Sunday, February 14, 2010


Am I the last person on the planet to finally see Jersey Shore? Normally, I’d be all over a show like that, but not having cable has really shielded me from some of my guiltiest pleasures. Jersey Shore is quite literally the Real World on steroids. Now I know why there are so many hypodermic needles on Jersey beaches.
How could I not love this train wreck of a show? I’ll tell you how. The show is so obscenely ridiculous that it’s already a parody of itself, a spoof of the genre, and a satire of America all rolled into one alcohol and bodily-fluid soaked rental house. Here I am, all ready to sit down and write a humorous piece, and there is nothing I can say that is more ridiculous, funny, or absurd than what has happened on the show already.
Usually, I take great delight when someone finally punches one of these “reality” stars, but Jersey Shore somehow took the fun out of that, too. How the hell could that guy hit poor Hooky? I mean, who doesn’t love a big chested oompa-loompa alcoholic with low self esteem wearing aviator shades and a trucker hat?!? Did anyone else find it ironical that after the incident, all the juiceheads in the house were thumping their chests ranting about wanting to kill the guy and “Never hitting a woman” etc., and in the next episode one of them shoves his girlfriend? Or how about the irony of these weirdo and weirdettes doing laundry everyday, constantly showering, and putting $30-$40 worth of hygiene products and hair gel on, and then hopping into that tepid, bubbling, frothy Petri dish, filth incubator of an STDcuzzi that they have on the roof? They probably had to take a few months off to send everyone to the clinic before they could start shooting the next season (look out Miami). That’s why my name for the show is Jersey Sore.
To amuse myself, I picture the show as a warped Sesame Street for aspiring blockheads. The Situation would be the Count, standing over his metal framed twin bed: “One…. bar slut passing through, Two ….skanks with issues, Three…. Mtv groupies clinging, Ah-Ha-ha-hah-ah.” Narcissistic diva Sammi would be Miss Piggy, making badgered but affable Ronnie, Kermit I guess. Snooki is definitely cookie monster, but it’s not cookies she’s gobbling up. I guess Pauly D would be Animal, simply because their hairdos are similar, etc, etc. “Today’s show has been brought to you by the letter P for penicillin and the number threesome.”
Since the show has already quite effectively mocked itself, I figured I would close by simply sharing a few poems for Valentine’s Day that were written by the cast:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Where the fuck is my blue Ed Hardy shirt?!!? I gotta be at the gym in ten minutes, and I’m getting’ really fuckin twisted here!! Seriously, WTF??
-Happy Valentine’s from Pauly D

Shall I compare thee to my abs?
Please believe I didn’t give you crabs,
Thou art not as cut as me, or ripped too,
I swear that wasn’t a roofy I slipped you.
-Be Mine? by The Situation

A rose by any other name would be just as pretty,
Without makeup though, I do look really shitty.
I’ll love you no matter what, through all the lows and highs,
Now I’m gonna go get drunk and make out with random guys.
-My Guy by J BowWow

I’m a little teapot, short and stout,
Buy me a jello shot or get the hell out!
The rest of the house seems to think I’m a suck up,
Please stick a pickle in my mouth so I’ll shut the fuck up!
-With love, from Snookers

Happy Anna Howard Shaw Day everybody!

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