I refuse to concede my Jersey Shore to those fuck faces on MTV. I’m used to being mocked because I’m from Jerz. But this show. This show. Ugh. That’s not actually the Jersey Shore. Or at least not mine. Mine is tame. Mine involves sunning on the beach and not in a capsule. Mine is full of bitchy, jewelry-encrusted old Jewish women and not tatted up frat boys.
But fine. The show is totally addicting. And while I may tune in to an episode or two when season two airs–in just one month—on July 29th, I will not, however, indulge in their celebrity status. So you could imagine my terror when I spied these drink specials at Commissary in DC.
My mouth is too ajar to form hateful words. You can, though.