I Went to the Jersey Shore, B**ch!
My first trip to the Jersey Shore happened three days after moving to New York from Texas. I was taken by two New Jersey natives to their friends’ summer share house in Belmar. We went to a dance club, where I was exposed to what the rest of the nation now knows as the typical Jersey Shore experience.
The guys were short and squatty with gelled hair and necks disproportionate to the size of their heads. They wore tight shirts with zippers on them, and they all seemed to have the same tribal tattoo that wrapped around their orange bicep like a viper. The music was loud and awful, and people were bouncing around in a wild, boisterous manner waving glow-sticks and cans of cheap beer.
Ten years later, they made a TV show that very closely resembled that experience.
They film it here, at this humble beachhouse in Seaside Heights, not even a block away from the boardwalk.
Have you heard of this program? I’d like to say that I’ve never seen it, but I like my nose the size it is. This is old news by now, but we just happened to cruise by Seaside Heights on our drive home from Cape May, NJ a few weekends ago, and we couldn’t resist checking it out. That’s right: we went to Jersey Shore, B**ch.
Underneath this coat, I’m wearing a skin-tight leopard-print bodysuit.
It can hardly contain my heaving, glittery cleavage.
Here’s me reenacting a scene from pretty much every episode.
And here’s Vin post
Gym- Tan-Laundry. Seriously, he smelled so Downey-fresh.
After checking out the house, we made our way to the boardwalk. It was empty save for a few joggers and families, but both of us understood why Snooki and her gang of dumb-bums enjoy spending their summers here. It’s a really nice beach.
We also got a better understanding for how damn lazy they all are for always showing up late for work. The store they work for is literally attached to the back of their house. Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son.
The store was just about the only thing open, so we took ourselves a peek.
What a surprise! Jersey Shore merch. I was thisclose to buying a pair of underwear that said “DTF” across the back. But really, who needs another pair of those?
Then, like many little meatballs before us, we went out for pizza and chicken rolls at a little shop on the boardwalk. Yes, they sold fried pickles.
This was the bathroom sign. Just…wow.
We capped off the trip with glowsticks and cheap beer at Karma. Vin got punched in the face and I flashed my underwear to a gang of drunken onlookers. Now that’s a situation.