Steve The Hammer:
While I was off this weekend I decided to take a little road trip with Stewie down to the Jersey Shore. Let me tell you, the build up for this blog was intense, everything I saw I just kept getting reminded of the ammunition that I was getting at that point in time.
First, we get there and there are more dudes walking around with no shirts than at a fucking Chippendale’s. Like yeah I know it’s a beach town but its 5:30 at night, the strong sun is gone, put a fucking shirt on now. Then at my friend Tim’s house I was introduced to a bracket of every girl that gets slammed in the house. It was the first weekend and they had six girls up already, not too shabby so far. Also, the house practiced safe sex as they had a bowl of condoms sitting on a table in the living room. Nice job guys, way to always be thinking.
Then we walked to the establishment known as Djais, which was like down the block from the house. Our whole reason for going early was to get a stamp so we didn’t have to wait in line later. However, on the way there we got a bit caught up with some giant asshole who was passed out on the fucking lawn in the fetal position. Guy it’s 6:45 at night, how are you passed out already? Either take it easy on the drinking, or step your game up. You can’t be passing out early letting everyone know how much of a lightweight you are. If you can’t take the heat, stay the fuck out of the kitchen bro.
We finally get to the bar for the stamp and the line isn’t moving. These people are complete assholes because I caught on to what they were doing. They make you wait in line until you’re semi-sober that way you want to keep buying drinks when you come in. It’s smart, but it’s still a jerkoff move. Speaking of jerkoff’s, the sun was just about going down when we were waiting in line. I saw about twenty jerkoff’s wearing sunglasses like it was 12 in the fucking afternoon. Are you guys kidding with that? It’s pretty much nighttime, you’re going inside, there’s no need for sunglasses. Please get a fucking clue next time; everyone is making fun of you.
What went on between the stamping and going back to the house to drink I really couldn’t tell you because time kind of stood still. I just know I was doing haircuts in a kitchen and getting hammered. We then go back to the bar around 10 o’clock and for some odd reason I was wearing a fedora hat. It wasn’t planned; I was just drunk and kept it on because my friends all told me to keep it on. This turned out to be awesome advice because apparently women love fedora hats.
I had written something a while back about the secret of the hat and this was the same exact situation. Girl’s love taking the hat off your head and dancing with you, I don’t know what the reason is, but it’s great if you’re the guy wearing the hat. It was overly successful in getting a girl to dance with me and I’m not going into more detail. All I will tell you is that you need to rock a fedora hat out. That’s all the advice you get in that department, you’ll just have to trust me.
Sleeping on a rug that had empty water bottles and cheez-it bags all over the place wasn’t very pleasant so I moved to a recliner chair. I’m pretty sure they use the same recliner chair as a form of torture for prisoners of war over in Iraq. I would have been more comfortable sleeping on a bed of nails than that fucking chair. When all was said and done, I slept for a total of 2 hours before I got woken up by some asshole talking about how he was still legally drunk so he couldn’t drive to his baseball game. Let me tell you, you’re the fucking man bro. Go back to sleep.
The best part of the whole trip was what I saw going on across the street when I was leaving the house to go to the beach. Some fucking guido was shirtless and jumping rope in his driveway. As if that wasn’t enough he also had the Italian flag draped over his front porch. First of all, go to the gym asshole, no one wants to watch you jump rope in your fucking driveway. Secondly, get the fucking Italian flag off your front porch. We all know you’re Italian and we all know you’re a guido; jumping rope shirtless in your driveway tells us that so there is no need for you to try and drive the point home. Please grow up; you’re like 28 years old. It’s time to get a life.
Finally, we show up at Long Branch beach to avoid the guido’s and jerkoff’s over at Belmar. I have a bone to pick with you Long Branch motherfuckers. One, you charge fifteen fucking dollars to park and then seven dollars to get on the beach. That’s twenty-two dollars just to show up. Then you have expensive and fancy shit all around but your bathroom might as well be a fucking prison cell. Get some new bathrooms; if I’m paying twenty-two dollars just to get there, you should at least have a nice place for me to piss. No, I don’t pee in the water, that’s fucking gross.
All in all, the weekend was pretty successful. Stewie and I got housed, had an awesome time and we were even successful in the female department. You don’t get details on that because that’s not my style. But anyway, if you end up at the Jersey Shore you should have a good time. If not, you can easily make your own fun. Head down for a weekend, it won’t disappoint.
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