Ah, Regret.


Don’t call me Snooki: A REAL Jersey Girl sets the record (but not her hair… or sexuality) straight
Mon, 15 February 2010, 1:41 am
Filed under: Required Reading | Tags: ,

Snookin' for love--or herpes.

I know, dear readers–you are not happy with me!  I wrote a series of critically acclaimed blog  posts and then abruptly vanished from the public eye, publishing new material with ever decreasing frequency and, eventually, not at all.  But here’s what I don’t understand: when I do this, everyone complains; meanwhile J.D. Salinger does the exact same thing and suddenly everyone is rushing to update their Facebook status about how great they think he is.  (So he wrote a book about teen angst, big deal.  I blog about Miley Cyrus, doesn’t that count for anything?!)

Anyway.  You’re probably wondering what pop cultural event of earth-shattering importance has managed to lure my fingers back to the home row keys.  No, Lindsay and Sam didn’t get back together (although Lindsay recently tweeted that Sam never physically abused her, which is um… heartwarming).  And no, Lady Gaga didn’t wear pants (in fact, she continues to wear things that one hesitates to even classify as  “clothing” ).

The event in question, dear readers, is called “Jersey Shore”, which is a television show that none of you could have possibly escaped knowing about by now.  But for the blissfully unaware, allow me to summarize:  In its latest addition to that brave new post-post-“Real World” world of reality television from which none of us is safe (the internet does have its downfalls),  MTV carefully selected eight vacuous, heavily tanned, vaguely Italian-looking twenty-somethings (aka guidos/guidettes) and placed them all together in a house in Seaside Heights, New Jersey, along with a hot tub and a lifetime supply of Jagermeister.  In conclusion, let’s just say that if any of the cast members weren’t already living with herpes, they are now!

If you haven’t seen the show yet, you should strive to keep things that way.  I won’t subject you to a clip of it, but just to give you an idea of what sort of people we’re dealing with, here are cast members Snooki, DJ Pauly D, and Mike “The Situation” (yes, those are their names; you’ll get used to them) in action during a recent appearance on “The Ellen DeGeneres Show”:

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(Yeeah.  MTV pays these people thousands of dollars to sit around every day putting gel in their hair and giving each other STDs while you and I make considerably less money acting like “young professionals” for 40+ hours each week with barely enough time over the weekend to cram in the drinking/unprotected sex part–that is, if we have the energy, and any money left in our bank account after the rent gets deducted.  Try not to think about it.)

As you(s) guys know, I am a native of the great state of New Jersey–a “Jersey Girl”, if you will–and so you can imagine why this show might be of interest to me.  And while I could probably write an entire thesis on “Jersey Shore” (and, if anyone wants to offer me some sort of degree for it, I will!), I am going to focus my attention on one cast member in particular: Snooki (you know, the U.S. History buff).

But why Snooki?  She is neither a lesbo, nor someone who should be/secretly is a lesbo, nor a singer with alcohol and/or wardrobe issues, nor a tweeny bopper starlet.  Well, the reason is simple: she is ruining my f-ing life! That’s right.  You see, apparently you guys think that a) Snooki can be accurately categorized as a Jersey Girl; and that therefore b) you should compare me to her ALL THE TIME.  Especially those times when I have recently blow-dried my hair, or pronounced a vowel sound.

Now when it comes to Jersey pride, I’m not exactly the poster guidette.  Admittedly, when called upon to defend my home state, I am usually incapable of doing so without at least a hint of irony.  But something about the Snooki thing made the Jersey Girl in me–though thousands of literal and figurative miles away from her native malls–snap.  (A nail!  jk.)  I’m not saying Jersey Girls don’t have big hair, or that we know–or even have the desire to know–how to say the phrase, “What are you talking about?” without causing everyone within earshot to simultaneously laugh and cringe.  What I am saying is that Snooki is SO not Jersey, and I am going to give you guys a REAL Jersey Girl (no quotation marks!)’s perspective on why.

Her origins.  I probably would have been willing to let it slide that she’s not Italian (her family is, but she was adopted).  The fundamental problem, however, is that Snooki hails from Marlboro, New York.  Last I checked, that is not an exit on the Garden State Parkway!  Needless to say, REAL Jersey Girls are not from New York (or South Jersey, but that’s another story).  As far as I’m concerned, this reason alone is enough to end the Snooki comparisons.  But you guys are relentless, so let’s look at a few more.

Her hair.  Every Jersey Girl knows that big hair = big fun!  I have poofy hair.  Snooki, however, has “a poof”, and the difference is here is not purely grammatical.  Simply put, my hair rules, whereas Snooki’s hair sucks–I have no idea where she came up with it or how she gets it to look that way.  Unfortunately, this clip doesn’t really explain it either (“Tease the shit out of it” is a great rule of thumb, but it still doesn’t account for the whole bump thing):

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The poof isn’t a hairstyle; it’s a cautionary tale.  Parents, don’t just let your kids have whatever hairdo they want in second grade, because while they’ll probably wake up one morning when they’re 12 and finally realize how stupid it looks, this is what happens if they don’t.  (It still pains me to think about how long I had those ugly bangs without my mother intervening.  On the other hand, perhaps they could have helped catapult me to reality show fame if only I’d stuck with them a little longer.  Ah, regret.)

Her inability to win a bar fight.  In what was probably the show’s most infamous moment, Snooki got punched in the face by some dude at a bar.  This never would have happened to a real Jersey Girl.  When we get dressed for the club, we pack a deadly arsenal of weapons: heels spiky enough to stab with deadly precision, fake nails that could slice through a jugular, and a can of hairspray capable of blinding any guido within ten feet.  I mean, at the very least she could have used her hair to deflect the blow.

Her food issues.  In another episode, Snooki tearfully announces that she has struggled with an eating disorder.  Jersey Girls may encounter this danger as well, because let’s face it: New Jersey makes you fat.  Bagels and pizza–two staples of Garden State gastronomy –are carbo-nightmares, and I don’t even want to know how many calories are in a Jagerbomb.  So how do we keep the pounds off?  Exercise!  An afternoon at the mall is a great workout, especially if you take the stairs instead of the escalator and fill your shopping bags with shoes to work your arm muscles (well, if they’re not already too sore from fist-pumping).  Then again, real Jersey Girls don’t pay much attention to what the scale says anyway–we all know the hair adds extra weight.

So there you have it.  Snooki is a poser, I’m awesome, and Jersey is… um, still a punchline.  Fuckin’ a!  Anyway, although I both pity and resent Snooki for her wannabe-guidette ways, I have to admit that there may be one reason for me to be jealous of her sudden, undeserved, and (let’s hope) short-lived fame:

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5 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Val: epic post. If they had a blogger university, you’d teach the thesis seminar.

Comment by courtney

Somebody’s a little jealous they don’t have 95% humidity giving their hair extra volume

Comment by rbiguglyheadj

Val I’m glad to have you on my side; well said. NJ is like a mom; you can say all the shit you want about it but if someone else dares to agree with you….watch out.

Comment by Cat

I still hate jersey.

Can’t wait to read your next post in November!

Comment by Brendan

i love snooki

Comment by Angel




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