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Friday, August 6, 2010



Every year I like to go to the Jersey Shore by myself, to recharge my batteries. I suppose I could get a battery charger here at home, but I wanted to see if I could find the dangerous and highly ubiquitous cast of “Jersey Shore,” and maybe get into their crowd. I wasn’t sure what Snookie looks like; when I think of a Snookie, I picture something a plumber might use, for what I don’t know. I didn’t know how to find “The Situation” either. I have run into many different situations in my time, some with my car. It could look like anything. So I figured I would rummage around, look for a little trouble, and let them find me.

The beach seemed like a great place to start. I love the Jersey shore. We have been to some beautiful places in the world: Ibiza is gorgeous but the beaches there are rocky. The Caribbean has lovely warm, water but usually no waves. In Cape Cod and Maine the frigging water is so cold your nipples freeze and break off. We went to the visually stunning volcanic black beach in Santorini, but no one there factored in the reality that the color black does not reflect heat, it absorbs it- it is like running over the coals in a motivational seminar only without the increase in confidence. The New Jersey parks have nice, clean sandy beaches with good waves, boardwalks and let’s not forget the girls with big hair and nails, and a lot of bad ink.

My wife hates going to the beach with me because I insist that we pack EVERYTHING. I take two knapsacks, since I take two naps. We take two coolers, because we are 2 cool. A Milwaukee Sawzall seems extraneous at first glance, but you’d be surprised how often it comes in handy. Cooking supplies are a must- people are stranded at deserted beaches all the time with no food. Speaking of which I think I sprayed myself with Pam instead of sunscreen.

I actually saw fewer bad tattoos than usual. One girl had pictures of two bluebirds on her lower back, flying south. Maybe they had a nest down there. The lower back is a very popular tattoo destination- a girl had one that said “dance,” her way of furthering the arts (she furthered the arts farther down than usual). I guess the idea is to put your message right near your ass, where people are looking anyway, in order to get the most saturation. How long before girls start selling corporate sponsorships?

At one section of the sand people were surfcasting, and I have to tell you the difference between surfcasting and doing nothing at all is not much. I resisted the urge to tell them that if they want to liven things up try broadcasting.
I overheard one guy say, “Dude those waves are SICK!” I thought the surf seemed well-behaved, and I can’t imagine what that wave must have done to that guy other than pull his shorts down.

There was a sign that said, “SWIM BETWEEN GREEN FLAGS ONLY.” Between the green flags was nothing but sand, so unless I’m a complete idiot that sign was totally unnecessary.

I heard a lot of parents yelling at their kids- don’t stick your finger in there, don’t put such-and-such up your nose, don’t get sand all over this or that. The kids were generally allowed to play whist or read the Times, and not much else.
Many girls had gone out of their way to find suits that showed the maximum amount of skin legally allowed at the beach, and then spent most of their time stretching the material to cover the exposed skin.

It got late and I was getting cold- thank god I brought a turtleneck sweater and my slippers. I hadn’t seen Snookie or The Situation, so I figured I might try the local drinking establishments. At Bar Anticipation the band was good, although they played the exact same 28 songs that every other band plays, and someday I will write a separate blog on that sore subject. Luckily I was entertained by a great tennis match on ESPN2. And by great, I mean the two hottest tennis chicks in the world, both over 5’10”, and since they are both Russian neither one speaks a word of English- there is nothing sexier than a girl you have no way to communicate with.

There was one gal there more or less my age, and I considered talking to her, but as I ran the dialogue ahead in my mind I realized how difficult it is to have a normal conversation with me without years of experience. Then I noticed that her looks were striking, and for safety’s sake I got the hell out of there.

Sunday it was time to go home. Usually, using reverse psychology, I plan my exit to hit the most amount of traffic possible. Normally I would theorize that most idiots will leave in the afternoon to squeeze every ounce of vacation possible. The dullwits that leave at night don’t worry me. The morning schmucks will have already left, so I usually leave late morning to avoid the rush. But since it was raining, I had to switch things up 180 degrees. I figured that the evening dickheads will think that everyone has left, and leave early. The afternoon morons will jump the gun and leave in the morning. Knowing that the morning knuckleheads will wait until the afternoon to let the evening asswipes cycle through, I left in the late morning. I still got slammed with traffic, but at least I avoided the morning ass-faces and the numbskulls that leave at night.

The one place I didn’t look for Snookie is the one place I should have looked first: she was detained in the Seaside Heights municipal jail in a town right next door.

Incidentally, while I was relaxing at the beach, the legislature of Bridgewater Township in New Jersey was hard at work. They passed a new ordinance that made relieving oneself in public a misdemeanor crime. It seems to me there are several different ways that one could be considered to relieve oneself. I guess you could try all of them in front of the police station, see which one you get arrested for and rule the others out; that’s probably what Snookie did. I’m not sure if you’re actually relieving yourself if someone else holds it for you, but it’s something to think about while you’re waiting for arraignment.


  1. i saw snookie at the breakers in newport.
    she sends her regards
    paul k.