Why I love the Jersey Shore: Part Three


Me and Kristyn went down to Seaside this past summer.  It was before the Jersey Shore started filming and we had no clue they were gonna film there at all.  We just went to have fun and also to go down there one last time before we moved to LA since we didn’t know when we’d be back again in the summer.  I tried desperately to find a suitable Seaside Heights hoodie to bring with me to LA but we couldn’t find anything that wasn’t tacky/had leopard spots/splattered paint/the words “NJ all day”/the words “Yeah we’re from NJ, we don’t like you either”, etc, etc, etc on them.  I WISH I’d put a little more effort into it now.  Der.
So one of my favorite things to do at  Seaside is go on the Sky Ride.  Kristyn is terrified of heights and therefore HATES the Sky Ride.  I usually just fold under these circumstances as abject terror > one’s desire to do something silly, but I’d been on a “forcing streak” because Kristyn’s daily terrors were stopping us from doing ANYTHING, haha.  All plates and cups must be inspected thoroughly before eating.  Only certain forks and knives can be used.  If food is a minute old, it’s gone bad.  Can’t go on elevators.  All kinds of stuff, haha.  She’s like Howie Mandel with a side of a fear of heights.

At a recent book signing, germophobe Howie Mandel wore gloves and a face mask.

SO, I’d begun a “Force Campaign” and here it is in action.

Sky Ride

Here’s Kristyn nervously playing with her iphone as we wait to get on the ride.  We’d JUST gotten our iphones and still could NOT get over them.  (FYI we still can’t, haha.)

Kristyn on her cellie

My Dad is a daredevil so he used to like to bounce the Sky Ride around and play with the thing that keeps you in.  In retrospect that was a pretty knucklehead thing to do but he liked to live on the edge and we liked living there with him…

Having fun on the Sky Ride

Atlantic Ocean and Morey's Pier where the rides mostly are.

To counteract her abject terror,  Kristyn took some pictures until she got motion sick, haha.  Then I took over again.

Up close me enjoying the sky ride.

Here's Kristyn looking a little green around the gills.

Weirdly enough I took a picture of the “Shore Store” where the Jersey Shore kids worked.  You can see it on the right of the picture.

Taken from the Sky Ride. To the left you can see The Shore Store where the Jersey Shore kids worked.

Beach from the Sky Ride

Kristyn is glad to still be alive and hates me a little.

This is where Ronnie took Sammie Sweatheart on their first date. I STILL have yet to go mini-golfing up there and no one will go with me.

Ticket booth (you can see Kristyn reflected in it).

Weird giant man.

The Enterprise.

The Rock & Roll. Essentially this is the Himalaya.

The Boardwalk. You can actually see Guidos on it if you look hard enough.

Weird giant guy that stands on top of the stands. The mini golf is actually on the roof of the stands and food places and this is its mascot.

This used to be "Shoot Saddam" in the early 90's

One of many arcades.

The Bud Man and Kristyn

Guido'd out mannequins.

Guido'd out mannequins wearing my Grand-Grandma Nanny's Beach Hat

MJ'd out mannequin

Us eating seafood in the restaurant where JWoww and Snookie ate after Snookie got decked.

Fortune teller and Kristyn

Us in a weird mirror.


The reason why the above sign is hilarious (for those of you not from NJ) is because on the bottom of that sign it says, “Bennies R welcome”. 

Bennies are basically anyone from Northern NJ or NY.  For all intents and purposes, WE are Bennies.  The people who live in these towns do not like that they cannot enjoy their own home over the summer because of tourists.  Truthfully though, they really don’t care much about US.  We come, we play, we spend our money and go home.  Who it is that they are really bummed out about are GUIDOS and GUIDETTES which is why there is such an uprising against the show from locals.  Apart from like two of these people on the show, none of them are from NJ and all of them are from up North.  The show you see is exactly what makes these people’s blood boil, haha.

Being somewhat of a Benny meself, it just makes me kind of giggle.

Oh I have a quick story about this boardwalk too.  I can’t find any pictures from the weekend I’m going to tell you about but it happened probably in the summer of 98 or 99.

A bunch of us went down to Seaside and rented a room.  It was at least a hundred degrees outside.  It was miserable.  The room we rented did NOT have a working air conditioner.  At one point, I don’t remember how but we measured the temperature inside and found that it was like 109 degrees or some shit.  It was like brain-frying.   

WELL, we eventually moved rooms which was good and bad.  It was good because no one needed to pass away but it was bad because we were placed next to a raging drunk.  A coupla my friends decided that it was in their best interests to NEVER LEAVE THE ROOM EVER NOT FOR ANY REASON UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.  Haha.  Wanna know what they did all weekend?  They watched race car driving all weekend.  Bananas.

Back to the drunk guy.  One of my friends (and you know who you are you devil you) has a hankering to hang out with the craziest person she can find that is an absolute stranger.  She is forever saying shit like, “So I was hanging out with my friends, this gang of bikers, you know?  And…”  Haha…(I love you.)  So heart of gold that she has, she befriended this lonely fool.  Apparently he’d been with a gaggle of his own friends and they’d all left him because he was highly annoying.

SO she told him to swing by “any time”.  Homeslice RAPIDLY became the neighbor from hell.  He’d drop in at all hours of the day and night.  He drank us out of house and home.  One afternoon, he was so trashed that on his way to the fridge to GET another one of our beers, he passed out on the floor.  Another time, in the middle of a story, with a beer still in his HAND, he pitched down face-forward onto the floor OUT COLD.  I don’t remember how we got him out of there actually.

Eventually we learned our lesson and did not want to open our little home away from home to our tormentor any longer.  We just decided that we’d lock the door so he couldn’t just drop in.  This was kind of a hairy plan because a locked door didn’t automatically send a message to his brain not to come in.  Instead of opening the door and passing out on our floor immediately, he now had to go through a series of procedures (a twelve-step program if you will) to get inside and immediately pass out on our floor. 

Step one:  Knocking
Step two:  Banging
Step three: Bellowing
Step four:  Trying to catch us in a lie “I know you’re in there!”
Step five:  Empty threats “Fine I’ll leave and I WON’T COME BACK!”
Step six:  Coming back
Step seven: Pleading
Step eight:  Offering alcoholic beverages (which almost worked but didn’t)
Step nine: Sitting on a chair outside his door waiting for someone to emerge
Step ten:  Passing out cold in the chair
Step eleven: Coming to again and running through steps one through eleven again
Step twelve:  Cornering someone as they’re arriving home and demanding entry.

Before long, we were all in agreeance that if you left without a key, it was at your own discretion.  If you arrived home and knocked on the door when the man was conscious, you had better have something to do for a few hours because NO ONE was going to let you back in.  Although we were all agreed, naturally there came a couple of times where a wary party banged on the door saying things like, “Guys it’s JUST ME.  GUYS, it’s NOT FAIR.  I JUST forgot my key.  I didn’t do it ON PURPOSE.  This is BULLSHIT.  Oh shit, hi neighbor! Fancy meeting you here.  No I was just leaving actually.  Nope, no key!  See?  Empty hands!  Where’m I going?  Oh to church.  It’s a sober church, bummer right?”  And that was THAT.

Later on, I am pretty sure it was the same weekend, we got ourselves good and trashed and staggered onto the boardwalk for some fun.  (He didn’t drink ALL of our beers, we’d hidden some, we’re not stupid.)  I, in particular, had a pretty busy day of drinking and hiding and was ready to have some foolhardy good times.  I guess we went on a coupla rides, played some stands and generally horsed around.  Then I saw it…

It was a giant wall.  You strap yourself into a harness and you climb the fricking wall.  I’d ALWAYS wanted to do that and the man was beckoning me.  “Come on!  You!  The blonde!  Why don’t you let me strap you into a flimsy diaper on strings and try to drunkenly climb this 30 foot high wall!”  “What does it cost?”  “Eighteen dollars.”  “F THAT.  You let me do it for free and I’ll do it.”  “Alright.”

So I let him strap me into my death trap as my friends watch from below.  I suddenly realize that extreme drunkenness + lack of upper body strength x total lack of athletic prowess = what am I doing up here?

BUT, I’m a can-do sort of gal and I soldiered on.  I began climbing the wall and I was actually doing pretty good.  I hear my friends cheering me on from below.  “Go Coleen!  You can do it! Don’t fall!”

I’m climbing and climbing and climbing and climbing and I’m totally not paying attention anymore.  The chants are now softer and more distant.  Really, they were quite easy to ignore.  I’m in my own little world.  Me in my diaper, climbing a wall with beer goggles on.  What else does a rough and tumble gal need?

I get to the top and it’s decision time.  What now?  I don’t see a buzzer to ring.  I don’t see any other goals.  I vaguely hear my friends chanting below.  I look down at them in a haze and see them waving their hands feverishly.  “Hi!” I think to myself. 

Suddenly, I know just what to do.  Obviously I’m supposed to climb over the wall and onto the other side.  I’m wondering where I’m supposed to get a good foothold.  I was pretty into gymnastics and was therefore pretty flexible at the time so I just put my food into my current handhole and put my hand at the top of the wall.  I pulled myself on to the top of the wall and sat straddling it, looking for a foot hole on the other side.  I notice that the other side is not lit up and I’m confused.

I look down at my friends for advice and see that they are still, now even moreso, feverishly waving their arms at me and cupping their hands around their mouths to make their voices carry.  “What?” I yell.  I look to the right and the operator is waving his hands and cupping his mouth too. 

I’m thirty feet up in the air straddling a wall and I realize I should focus my hearing a little more and try to see what it is they’re saying.  “COME DOWN!  YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE UP THERE!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”



“Oh, my bad”, I think as I hoist my leg back over the wall.  I start meticulously climbing down the side of the wall and the guy just says, “NOOOO BOUNCE.  SIT BACK AND BOUNCE DOWN THE WALL.” 

So that’s what I did.  I bounced down the wall and finally made it down from the heavens back to the boardwalk.  My friends were like, “What in the world were you doing up there?!  We see you climbing and climbing and climbing and were waiting for you to stop because you don’t HAVE TO climb all the way to the top.  We figured you’d have your fun and come back down.  AND THEN, we see you turn back to us.  We tell you to come down and you smile and WAVE and then KEEP CLIMBING.  We see you swing your leg up and OVER the wall.  You were just sitting there smiling down at us, light on, no one’s home.”  Hahaha….

NOT one of my finer moments.  I think a little crowd formed too to see why the asshole is climbing over the other side of the wall.  *Sigh*  Guys, THIS is why I don’t drink anymore.  Some people get sleepy, some people get angry, some people get silly, some people get sad, I cause mayhem.

But back to our neighbor.  At the end of the weekend, my friend approached him and asked him if he was okay.  He was, because someone was coming to pick him up and take him to rehab.  Oy vey.

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