Tag Archives: Jersey Shore

jersey shore’s angelina debuts a “song.”

I imagine that if a six year old with a dirty mouth wrote some lyrics for me, and I attempted to rap them, this is what it would sound like.

[Posted by Mallory]

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Filed under celebrities, humor, music, pop culture

thoughts that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

Remember how being home is simply lovely and wonderful? Well, I forgot that I get really bored when I don’t have 1,000 things to do. And that I don’t have, um, that many friends left in Denver (KELSEY COME HOME). And my parents just left me to go to a swanky cult-tastic party and have left me at home alone. I helped my mom get ready, like I’m 11 and waiting for the babysitter. I swear guys, I’m not usually this lame. Really.

In the meantime, I need to tell you some things. First, you should begin reading the following two blogs:

  • the way i wanted it to be. My friend’s brother writes this blog. His photos are transfixing and his stories are beautiful and sad. Read it.
  • Miss Doxie. An important lawyer friend of mine introduced me to Miss Doxie, swearing that the blog got her through law school. Miss Doxie (a lovely girl named Leigh) doesn’t post often — in fact, she took quite the hiatus for the past year or so — but the archives are worth reading. And there are plenty to keep you busy, whether you’re miserable at work wishing you were home, or home wishing you had the foresight to stay among friends in DC for another weekend.

Besides these blogs, the only thing that’s pulling me out of this fuck-I’m-lame funk is that Jersey Shore is on tonight. And I have never seen Jersey Shore. I’ve only read about it on 2birds1blog. Miss Meg McBlogger’s recraps have left me dying to watch, and the heavens smiled down upon me and noticed my boredom and offered up the golden gift of this horrible show! At least something is right in the world.

[Posted by Mallory]

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new jersey bars: a survival guide.


I’m pretty proud of my New Jersey roots and most of the time I’ll defend the Garden State to whoever chooses to take issue with it on any given day.  Really, what’s not to love?  We have Bruce Springsteen, excellent driving skills, the beach, gardens, cranberry bogs, the Giants . . . I could go on.  But I won’t because this weekend, Jersey betrayed me.  I decided to make a rare venture out into the Jersey Shore Nightlife and I barely survived.  But I’m a trooper (a Jersey Girl, really) and I’m going to turn my brush with death into a guide for all of you.  Just because you might find yourself in a Jersey Shore bar some day; you might not know what you’re doing there but at least now you’ll know how to make it out alive.

I should start by saying that it’s my own fault, I should have known better.  I’m a local (and a snob), after all.  In the summers I would never think about going anywhere near the bars.  But it’s November,  I thought I would be safe.  I thought I would be surrounded by other locals, and we would be a big happy family, happy to have the Bennys out of our normal-sized hair and back where they belong.  Rule number one of NJ Bar Survival: Never let your guard down. 

I’ve experienced culture-shock before but never within two miles of my childhood home.  As soon as my friend, Aly, and I entered the bar we were surrounded by one giant stereotype.  The stuff of Jersey Shore legend: enough hair product to re-pollute the Hudson River, enough scantily-clad-when-they-really-shouldn’t-have-been women to make me go to the gym, HUNGOVER, the next day.  Worse, it was like everyone was speaking a different language.  None of the words ended in “ing,” most had an extra “r,” quite a few just ended in a guttural “uh” sound.  It seemed that all of the adjectives in the English language were replaced with “fuckin'” which is just impossible on so many levels. 

We hadn’t been there long when, despite the fact that our chests were fully covered and neither of us were wearing pants that laced up the sides, an extremely muscular “gentleman” came over to “chat.”  Despite evidence to the contrary, we’re nice people so we “chatted” in the made-up language of super-muscular dude.  Apparently, he was out with his boyz ’cause turns out his wife is a (bunch of expletives that we don’t use on SWTCTW).  Actually, she’s a stripper and last week he caught her “performing” for a complete stranger in their house . . . while their five-month-old son was sleeping in the next room.  While this is terribly sad and I feel for the guy and more importantly the five-month-old baby caught in the middle of it, stories like that should NEVER be followed with “maybe we could meet up sometime, can I have your number?”  Um, maybe when you figure this situation out and after you stop calling the mother of your child disgusting names.  Not really, but maybe.  I don’t really know what the rule is here.  STAY ALERT.  Which is basically the same as rule number one.

The next scenario is one that I’ve lived fairly often in my bar-going days.  The bar is crowded, you get bumped by a passer-by and in turn bump into the person next to you, a stranger.  You apologize, maybe flash a half-smile, they nod, and everybody moves on with their lives understanding that this is just something that happens in the world.  Unless the part of the world you’re in happens to be a Jersey Shore Bar.  So, I get bumped and I apologize, half-smile and all, to the girl that I bumped into as a result.  She rolls her eyes and turns back to her friends.  Okay, whatever.  Until another passer-by bumps me and I bump the same scary eye-roll girl again.  This time, I know that more than a half-smile is in order so I apologize and try and laugh it off but OH NO.  We will be having none of that.  The girl slams down her glass and storms off yelling “YOU KNOW WHAT?! YOU SAID THAT TWICE AND YOU BUMPED INTO ME TWICE!” 

How exactly does one respond to that?  “YEAH AND I MEANT IT BOTH TIMES!”  No, don’t.  Don’t respond.  Just remember rule number three: Don’t touch anybody.  Consider it a nearly-impossible challenge where failure brings terrible repercussions, like walking to school without stepping on the cracks in the sidewalks.  Did you get kind of dizzy looking down the entire time?  YES, but if you looked up and missed one of the cracks then your mother’s back would be broken and it would be ALL YOUR FAULT.  This is practically the same.  If you touch anybody, even if you apologize, you will end up covered in hair gel and pretty beat up.  Just say no to touching strangers (and yes, that’s what she said). 

So let’s recap.  Never let your guard down, stay alert and don’t touch anybody.  I can tell you that following these rules doesn’t make for a particularly enjoyable night so replace them all with: Take NJ Transit into the city.  Sorry, NJ Economy, but it’s the only way. 

[Posted by Madeline]

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