Monday, May 17, 2010

Psst - I'm from NJ

Yes, it has been a while since I posted but I have been busy. Let me first start with March and my ski trip to Whistler. Now I know skiing down the slopes that the Olympic ski teams rode just weeks before, drinking Coronas in the afternoon on the deck facing the gondola and have fabulous dinners every night in Whistler village and then Vancouver sounds tiring and tough work but the hard part was telling everyone I met there that I was from New Jersey. "Oh", they would say, "have you ever seen the Jersey Shore?" (no). Or "does Danielle from The Housewives from NJ really live in your town?" (she does). And the ultimate, "do you know Tony Soprano". Everywhere I went in Canada, it was like this. Who could blame them. The state of NJ use to be known for the swamp lands and smelly oil refineries along the Turnike. Now it is known as the state where,
  1. The mobsters live like a hedge fund trader making their living terrorizing mom and pop stores, running the waste hauling and construction industry killing whoever pisses them off while hanging out in strip joints every day.
  2. The Jersey Shore is a destination spot for guidos and guidettes whose family values mean they belong to a tribe of sex driven, well-tanned kids who grow to be in the Soprano family.
  3. The Housewives of New Jersey who wear bad hairdos, too much make up and throw tables when things are not going their way in the gossipy conversations.
People I met in Canada would ask if I knew these people. Sure, I always hang with the likes of Snooki, Paulie D, Big Pussy, or Paulie Walnuts. They even have "the Jersey accent". It is a deviation of the New York accent but instead of dropping the T (as in da not "the") you drop the R; i.e. it is squae not square.I can only imagine the stimulating conversation I would have about brands of hair gel, polyester pants and the latest reality star on the cover of People magazine. What is it about New Jersey that makes TV producers showing inhabitants of the state as Neanderthals with bad taste in hair and clothes and no brains. There's got to be some one that dreams up these episodes and then humiliates Italian Americans by featuring them on prime time. How would those from South Carolina feel if they had a show where residents of their state were depicted as hillbillies without shoes, killing snakes to eat for dinner. So finally, I gave up on telling people that I came from NJ. Last person who asked I said I was from New York. He asked, "really, are you from Da Bronx". Ugh, forgitaboutit!