Snooki. I'm Sorry.

Earlier today I made some snide remarks about Snooki's new book Shore Thing, and, now having read a brief excerpt, I must say that I owe the young Ms. Polizzi an apology. First and foremost, of course, for popping off about it before reading a single word of the book.

But then we glean her prose:

"Gia danced around a little, shaking her peaches for show. She shook it hard. Too hard. In the middle of a shimmy, her stomach cramped. A fart slipped out. A loud one. And stinky."

Previously to this, I foolishly had no idea that women referred to their primed, preening buttocks as "peaches." But thanks to young Ms. Snooki's words, I am reminded of a passage from Scott Turow's Presumed Innocent, during which the narrator mentions his impassioned lover turning over onto her stomach and offering her rear to him, which he called "the marble peach." Thinking of that passage, along with picturing the lovely young lady who would later portray the sensuous sodomite ("sodomite, sodomite, first wrinkled star I see tonight...") in the movie based on the book, I enflared as highly aroused, and pleasured myself to the strains of imagining myself indulging in a cherished young woman's "marble peach", perhaps with her mother (or aunt, let's keep it on Planet Earth) alighting upon our feverish ministrations and offering her own well-seasoned, and yet ambitious assistance. Not having encountered myself as of yet today, I was raptured with a furious climax that left me drained, panting, and, most of all, thankful for Ms. Polizzi's beautiful words that sent the dominos cascading to my own delights.

Also, the hopeful paramour Gia, "shaking her peaches for a show," letting loose some wind reminded me of something I had though about earlier today. Ever had to fart really bad, but you're in the company of others, so you hafta surpress it? But after a few minutes, by the time everyone else has left you kinda forget to let it loose? And then by the time you remember "oh my god, I have to fart" again, other people have since shown up, forcing you to have to surpress it AGAIN? And, of course, woe be unto he for whom wind must be kept thrice.

And Snooki gets this. Snooki understands this. Our heroine just lets the empty space of her entrails fly. It is loud. It is, in a particularly brilliant choice of words, "stinky." As Stormy Weathers claims in his epic court battle in 1987's From the Hip about the word "asshole" in describing another fellow, is there a more perfect word in this context than "stinky"? It's cute. It's feminine. What else is "stinky"? Rotten fruit. Like peaches. Rotten, stinky peaches. As in Gia's rotten, stinky ass. Snooki nailed this one.

Lovemaking on haunches into the oft-overlooked, less perfumed flower along with the pleasure of letting wind break upon the dance floor...all in one small, concise passage, which is just as the bantam Ms. Polizzi herself may be described?

She gets me.

I'm in.

Love,
Xmastime
Juicehead Wannabe