Posts Tagged ‘Italian American’

On Behalf of All Jersey Girls*

August 18, 2011 10 comments

Because of a certain horrific show about the Jersey shore (yes, we say ‘shore’ not ‘beach’), there seems to be some confusion over what it means to be a Jersey Girl. On behalf of all the non-trashy, non-Oompa Loompa tanned chicas, let me clarify a few things.

  •  No one I know wears, owns, or would let her friends wear a Bump-it.
  •  No one fist-pumps.
  •  Every Jersey Girl knows how to navigate a traffic circle, which no one ever calls a roundabout.
  •  Jersey Girls are actually from NJ.
  •  Some Jersey Girls are Italian-American (like moi). However, if you ever call me a Guido, I will hit you. But I will not be dumb enough to do it in a bar and get arrested for ratings.
  •  If a guy uses more hair gel than I do, I will not date him. Unless your name is Gaston or Ken (of Ken and Barbie fame), that’s unacceptable.
  •  We don’t all dress like hooker extras from Pretty Woman. And our clothing isn’t three sizes too small.
  •  No self-respecting Jersey Girl wears her baseball cap sideways, unless it is Halloween.
  •  If you dress like Bret Michaels, no one will date you. Unless you ARE Bret Michaels. Because he is still kind of awesome – barring the fact that he let Miley butcher his song. *shudders*
  •  Pursing your lips isn’t sexy, unless you are Angelina Jolie. If your lips are super-thin, it just makes you look like you ate something really sour. In short, you’re a tool.
  •  Elvira shouldn’t be an inspiration for a hairstyle.
  •  Trashy isn’t trendy.
  •  No one nicknames herself.
  •  At various points in her life, a Jersey Girl has done the following: fished, crabbed, picked blueberries, gotten lost on the way to Atlantic City, known someone who stalked Bon Jovi, and recognized every single landmark in the opening of The Sopranos.
  •  Diner food is awesome. You can get pancakes at three in the morning and have a milkshake with breakfast.
  •  A Jersey Girl knows how to fish – and I don’t mean for men. She might not like baiting a hook, but she knows how to do it.
  •  A Jersey Girl knows that Seaside is where your old, trashy high school friends go. She avoids it at all costs.
  •  If her friend was nicknamed something ridiculous (like JWookie or Sham-Wow), a Jersey Girl wouldn’t actually call her friend by that name. She would mock her mercilessly pretty much forever.
  •  Applying makeup like a crazed raccoon doesn’t fly. Unless you plan on eating out of the garbage can, NO. A world of no.
  • Speaking of garbage cans, a Jersey girl would never pass out in one of them. In fact, unless your name is Oscar the Grouch, it’s acceptable.
  • A Jersey girl knows that no one will ever offer to PAY you NOT to wear their clothing.

Jersey Girls are often tough and sweet (probably because we’ve been digging ourselves out of the SNOW for years). We know where to get the best Philly Cheesesteak (not actually in Philly) and the importance of the local fairs (jewelry! Funnel cake! Stupid games that are rigged!). And, when all else fails, there are always the tales about the Jersey Devil. And no, I don’t mean the hockey team.

So, if you really want to be a Jersey Girl, put down the bronzer. Stop guzzling beer for breakfast. And start listening to Bon Jovi. Sure, he might’ve come off like a bit of an asshat in that documentary, but he’s still OUR homegrown asshat.

*reposted from an old blog, with a few additions