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It’s all come down to this, my friends. An episode MTV has chosen to call the “Summer Finale” of Floribama Shore – a term that seems more than a bit optimistic considering the fact that my tan has long since faded – is upon us, and we all know full well that there’s no way this group would ever enter a mini hiatus without experiencing and inflicting a heap of carnage first.

Based on what has transpired this season, some very important questions should already be swimming through our minds. Will Gus and Nilsa ever move beyond drunken hookups and become the perfect couple that currently only exists inside of Nilsa’s very “extra” mind? Will Kortni ever stop pissing in streets – and just how many tampons has this girl removed curbside since the onset of puberty? Can Jeremiah’s burgeoning attraction to Kortni be based on literally anything besides his always-at-the-ready savior complex? How long will it take for Candace to realize that a man grabbing a … Continue reading →

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Photo Credit: MTV

So here’s what’s been happening:

Nilsa and Gus are hooking up, but she swears she’s only looking for fun, that not even a dash of her prototypical brand of jealousy will rear its heavily-contoured head the very next time she spots Gus feeling up some girl at a bar.

(The only person on the planet who believes Nilsa about any of this is Nilsa.)

Kortni has a legitimate crush on Jeremiah, incest comparisons be damned.

(The only people who think such a pairing would actually be a wise idea are the always-hammered people who live in that filthy house. Perhaps the fumes of kitchen mold have driven them clinically mad.)

Logan now creeps around the streets of Panama City Beach in the dead of night to drop bouquets of cheap flowers and close-up photographs of Kortni’s face onto her doorstep.

(The only people pleased about Logan’s nocturnal strolls are the producers of Dateline.)

Candace publicly dates a man who made the conscious choice to randomly insert a set … Continue reading →

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Photo Credit: MTV

I’m a big fan of horror movies. I’ve seen ‘em all. In some perverse sort of way, the stages of my life can almost be catalogued by which movie was scaring the living shit out of me at that particular moment in time. April Fool’s Day, with its Muffy/Buffy twins (trust me; they were terrifying) and that old rickety well filled with dark water and dead bodies tormented me during my elementary-school-sleepover days. Friday the 13th used to slip into my mind constantly back when I was a sleepaway camp counselor and I’d find myself creeping through the woods to my bunk in the dead of night after having sex with my boyfriend on the kickball field. I think about Rosemary’s Baby during every single gynecologist appointment I’ve had since I was seventeen and Goodnight, Mommy – with those creepy little boys who share a penchant for gluing together body parts – entered my life recently, meaning that even my adulthood is defined by having the bejeezus scared … Continue reading →