Knock it the Heck Off, Connecticut

An unfortunate yet inherent fact of hailing form the great Garden State is that the rest of the country thoroughly enjoys crapping all over us. Granted, we have some exports and landscapes that may provoke this (the cast of shows like JerseyLiscious and the Turnpike north of exit 7). However, most of us and our allies know that these attacks and laments are unwarranted.

By far, the most abuse we take comes from people from Connecticut. Which is patently ridiculous. They seem to coast on an air of superiority that’s fueled by the fact that the rest of the country mistakenly believes that their entire state consists of country clubs and regattas. Most of the people who try to tell me that CT is far superior to NJ because of their fancy-pants reputation don’t really come from the fancy-pants stock but are regular people from regular families who would fit in just fine with us (perceived) Jersey hoodrats. Apparently they seem to forget that the parts of our state they love to hate on have mirror images in their own state. Continue reading

I Hate ‘Girls’ But…

As a functional member of society with no desire ever to live anywhere near Brooklyn and nothing in my wardrobe from American Apparel, the party line is that I hate Girls. Like, despise it. I don’t find Lena Dunham particularly charming for many reasons, some of which I can’t explain.

However, I find the following line from an episode of the second season to be hilarious:

“Let’s have the kind of night where it’s 5 a.m. and one of us has definitely punched someone who used to be on the Disney channel.”

And except for the fact that she says things like “This place looks amaze,” Shoshanna is the only tolerable character on it.

Skank or Treat: Why Halloween is Every Creepster’s Favorite Holiday

Miss Lohan, for once, actually said it best:

In case you can’t read size 6 font, that’s In girl world, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it. It’s quite possible that truer words were never spoken. In the Catholic school bubble, I didn’t realize the scantily-clad Halloween phenomenon existed until college, but I made up for lost time by actually wearing my real Catholic school skirt, a white button-down about 3 sizes too small and Victoria’s Secret knee socks. I really hope my parents have never seen pictures from this because it was basically an unspoken version of me saying “Oh hey, you know that skirt I wore every day for four years because you decided to drop five figures a year on high school? Yeah, here’s what I think about that” and spat on the ground. (I like to think I brought this full circle by wearing my VWA uniform to a high school theme party senior year of college complete with white chapel sweater, sneakers and mesh shorts under an unrolled skirt exactly the way I wore it from 13 to 17. A little sloppier, but much more respectable.)

Any lady with an active social life during her years in higher education will tell you that those four (five if you’re me) years are rife with opportunities to wear dismal amounts of clothing. Most embrace this. Some crash diet leading up to All Hallow’s Eve. These girls are crazy. On any given college campus or in any bar from Oct. 26-31, you will see any of the following: Sexy Nurse, Sexy Cop, Sexy Firefighter, Sexy Commercial Fisherman, Sexy Cat, Sexy Schoolgirl, Sexy Teacher, Sexy Librarian, Sexy Trash Collector, Sexy Girl Scout, Sexy Soccer Referee and Sexy Pirate.

Because America is the greatest nation on Earth, this year, my friends, this year you can also run into SEXY ROOSTER.

And, frankly, I hope you do. Poultry’s sluttiness has long gone underestimated. Those fine folks over at Yandy.com have actually come up with nine different variations of the Sexy Chef and 27 different Sexy Beer Girl costumes. This weird Sexy Fox get-up is actually their second-best seller but it looks more like Star Fox than a tarty woodland creature. After we collectively reignited our affections for Big Bird, the Skimpy Halloween Costume Gods (for whom apparently nothing is holy) have even decided desecrate Sesame Street. Expect Slutty Snuffaluffagus to follow. With any luck, this will be the only semi-lasting impact Mitt Romney has on society.

I’m not trying to sound like a pearl-clutching prude here. Hey, if you’ve got the figure and don’t mind tramping about town in something skimpy, more power to you, but you should realize that most of us with more than half a brain think you look ridiculous.  Senior year of college, the Hunt coincided with Halloweekend and I chose equine carousing over collegiate tramping. Post-Hunt, we moved the party to the Office in Morristown (day- and night-drinking: something I can no longer accomplish in my old age) where some ladies who were closer to 40 than 30 were knocking back cocktails dressed as sexy nurses and schoolgirls. The bar was empty; what few people were there hadn’t dressed in costume. I’m pretty sure the term douche-chills was invented for this very moment. This very evening inspired me never to dress like a tramp in public after graduating from college. (The length of the skirt I wore yesterday to a sorority alumnae event leaves this up for debate, but I wore tights.) Henceforth, I decided I’d much rather be comfortable on Halloween, which led to the following:

Yep, ZELDA. Long sleeves, weird Forever 21 green dress, brown leggings and brown Uggs. Like being at a bar in your pajamas and the only thing I had to spend extra money on was the shield. (And doesn’t Deb make a fantastic Lucy?) Also, I got hit on by a few nerds. Maybe I can rewear this and be Sexy Sky Fox’s wingwoman?

Scary Beautiful…or, you know, just plain scary

Probably not the best attitude to have about invention and design, but this pretty much proves that just because you can doesn’t mean you should. I get the whole “fashion is art that you wear” thing (and I really only get that from watching The Devil Wears Prada a thousand times), but for Pete’s sake, it shouldn’t look like some sort of torture apparatus. Seriously, this chick staggers around like a newborn giraffe.

Is the world any better for having these “shoes” in it? Not really – but I had an excuse to rant, which I always appreciate.

How to Behave at a Bruce Springsteen Concert

What time is it, Steve? Boss time.

On Saturday, several loved ones and I will partake in New Jersey’s closest attempt at a communal religious experience: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band at Giants Stadium. Or MetLife. Whatever it’s called. While I haven’t seen nearly as many Bruce shows as some of my countrymen, it’s not my first rodeo.

Typically, in the Garden State, everyone gets along; tailgates are very friendly. We’re all there for the same reason: to see the Boss and the heart-stopping, pants-dropping, house-rocking, earth-quaking, booty-shaking, Viagra-taking, love-making legendary E Street Band. However, in the 11 shows I’ve had the good fortune (and made the financial sacrifice) to attend, I’ve noticed some unbecoming behavior both in the Jerz and abroad. We’d all do well to follow some ground rules. Continue reading

Ode to Tommy Cheeseballs

Before Snooki entered the national parlance, before people beyond their 200 regular customers had heard of Karma, before T-shirt time, before the CABS WERE HEEEEEAHH, there was Tommy. Oh, Tommy, I miss you. Things were simpler back then. MTV had only grossly misrepresented the Jersey Shore to a smattering of True Life viewers with Tommy’s buffoonish 40 minutes of fame, rather than the pop-garbage (I refuse to call it “culture”) franchise through which we currently suffer. Continue reading

Some People Don’t Get Technology

 

Team Sender all the way.

Every new wave of technological advancements created deeply confused people who couldn’t grasp the fundamentals of each new medium. Just as there were people talking back to their radios in the 1930s and people who thought television sets actually contained tiny people in the 1950s, some 2012 humans are just bewildered by the complicated workings of today’s technological tools and platforms.

To lament to all four readers of this blog, I compiled the following list during a break in class last week of various offenses to social media and telecommunication that happen too frequently. Some are valid and some represent me doing what I do best: acting like a crank. Continue reading

New Jersey “Survivor”: Who Would You Vote off the Island?

Ugly stereotypes just keep getting uglier.

My inner news nerd latched onto UniversalHub soon after moving to Boston last year out of a gnawing need to know all the ins and outs of superlocal news. (Post-journalism Stockholm syndrome? Maybe.) Before his arrest and awesome sentence, Sob Story Guy, a creative panhandler who tricked unsuspecting commuters with a tale of woe in exchange for cash, popped up quite a bit with readers’ accounts of his incessant bilking. The law eventually caught up with him and Sob Story Guy got three years in prison and had to agree to leave the state within 60 days of his release. Seriously. Exiled from Massachusetts. Major points to the judge on that one.

This got me thinking…what if we could kick people out of New Jersey? The longer I live out of state, the more I see that outsiders really think we live in a hellhole overrun by unintelligent buffoons with attitude problems. Unfortunately, there’s a few people in the public eye who confirm this to the world and potentially deserve banishment. Let’s start at the very top, shall we? Continue reading

Marketing Research Textbooks: the Greatest Affront to the English Language of Our Time

For the first time in three years, I’ve found myself in the middle of finals week again. The last time around, I was pretty much buried under piles and piles of papers that I was researching with user-friendly journalism books and/or historical accounts. People who knew how to write penned these books largely with the intent of teaching other people how to write. In hindsight, it had generally been a not-so-bad experience (although I’m sure at the time all I wanted to do was pound out the requisite pages so I could join my cohorts in pounding pitchers at Chuck’s.) Continue reading

Could Be Worse

 

Good reading back in 1987

 

So, over the course of the past year, I’ve become far less tolerant of other people’s complaining. I also think I’ve made a concerted effort to complain less, but I’m sure there are a few people who would dispute that. And, this is nothing new, but I’ve always had a distaste for people who broadcast all of their emotions on the Interwebs. Lately, it seems as though a major case of the grumpies is making its way around Facebook and I’ve exercised a great deal of restraint in not reminding my virtual friends of the mantra of this fantastic and ridiculous children’s book still in my bookcase: “Could be worse!” It tells the outlandish tale of some kids who were abducted by a giant bird and had all these other things happen to them. As they regale their grandfather with tales of their ordeal, all he can say at every step of the way is “Could be worse!” Continue reading