Images of concrete and calzones are flashing across your television screen. In recent years, shows like Real Housewives Of New Jersey, The Sopranos, The Jersey Shore, and Jerseylicious are making New Jersey famous—but not in a good way.
If you’re not from New Jersey, you might be wondering about the accuracy of these programs. After all, quite a few local residents are complaining about the unflattering portrayal of their state. Since I’ve lived in New Jersey my whole life, I thought I’d settle the issue once and for all.
Is New Jersey an industrial wasteland full of greasy sleazeballs dumber than the average slab of eggplant parmagiana? Is New Jersey a state filled with jealous shopping-mall floozies who spend half the day down at the nail salon and the other half scratching each other’s eyes out with their full sets of French tips? Are we a bunch of fat, swaggering slobs in SUVs with no class and no etiquette, despite having the highest per capita income in the country?
Yeah, maybe.
VACATION'S OVER... VACATION'S OVER... VACATION'S OVER...
After a week in San Diego, I’m ready to return to New Jersey.
Wait—let me rephrase that statement, and make it more accurate. After a week in San Diego, I’m ready to stay in San Diego. Yeah, that’s better.
It’s also not true. I miss New Jersey. Why? Because I’m stupid. I mean, isn’t it obvious? Why else would anyone miss a place where shopping malls are laid out end-to-end along grungy highways filled with snarling people on a mad dash to Macy’s? It’s all about what you’re used to. And I am used to crap. If you’re born in crap, you learn to love it. Just ask your average housefly.
Airplanes are the worst. On the flight over here some lady was changing her baby’s diaper on the tray that folds down from the seat. The flight attendant told her twice to use the changing table in the bathroom, but the woman ignored her. Now maybe she didn’t understand english, but BABY EL STINKO, okay? I think that’s a pretty universal idea.
I have to go pack.
Flying over the desert we see miles and miles of wasteland. And I’m thinking, what happens if you’re driving along down there and your car breaks down? You might as well be stranded on Mars. Death is imminent, and there’s not a pizza place in sight.
If your car breaks down in New Jersey, you just slog your way across the asphalt to the nearest gas station, which will be about 20 yards away. Then you walk over to the nearest mall—another 20 yards, of course—and eat curly fries while you wait for them to fix your car.
We’re going to Coronado today. It’s some kind of beach.
my exciting life | joeythesquash | 
March 30, 2010 2:13 pm | 
Comments (3) 
Subscribe