Aug 252011

The strangest thing happened as soon as the sun set on the fair: the grounds became overpopulated with blowouts and Affliction shirts.

“I had no idea Westmoreland County was so close to the Jersey shore,” I said to Henry loud enough for hopefully some of them to hear, provided their ear drums weren’t perforated from too many nights of “beating the beat” at the club.

I guess faux-guidos are the new scene kids.

However, scene kids don’t often roam in packs of entire scene families, like these Jersey-knock offs were doing. I mean, I saw three generations of ridiculous mushroom-cloud mocking hair do’s! It was unbelievable. I realize that MTV didn’t invent this stereotype, but I have never seen such a fine flock of them in person.

In Pennsylvania.

Besides, it’s the COUNTY FAIR. I don’t go to these things to be blinded by bedazzled Ed Hardy t-shirts and assaulted by rigatoni-breath. I want to see red necks! Red necks fighting over chicken bones! I want to see broads with Loony Toon tattoos on their saggy tits! I want to see broads with Loony Toon tattoos on their saggy tits playing tug-of-war with their co-opted baby-daddy!

Grandpa Ronnie. You’re not pulling this off very well, bro.

And the little kids all had blow-outs, too. Jerseylicious parents, this is just wrong. Your son looks less like Pauly D, more like Eddie Munster. Get a fucking stylist, my god. I wanted Chooch to start a fight with that bastard.

There were DROVES of these people. I couldn’t stand it. Yes, I watch Jersey Shore, not going to lie about that. And yes, perhaps they have grown on me (but never Sammi Sweetheart; I keep hoping she dies in a tanning bed). This does not mean I’m OK with being engulfed by a veritable drove of hair gel- and bronzer-hosts while trying to enjoy an evening at the motherfucking fair. This does not mean I’m OK with being bombarded on all sides by their nasally Jersey dialect, husky cacchination and rowdy “Yeah buddy!”s as I try to buy a fucking ice cream cone.

Here, our own Henry wonders if this Sammi-wannabe is DTF.

And this CERTAINLY does not mean I’m OK with them line-jumping in front of me for a ride I have waited all the livelong day to stuff my ass onto. Perhaps one day I’ll tell you that story….

So this one time, I was in line for the Cobra, which I really wanted to ride and it was almost time to leave. The line was pretty long to begin with, but I remained steadfast and vigilant even though I found myself right smack behind a kid trying way too hard to emulate Ronnie, thankfully sans-steroids. He was pretty quiet for the most part until he turned to his left and saw one of his hoochie friends.

“LISA! COME RIDE THIS RIDE WITH ME! LISA!” he shouted in douche-drizzled cadence. And before I knew it, Lisa and her dual-compartment backside luggage of cannoli and fettucine alfredo were planted right in front of me. I let this go, even though she reeked of the cheap hair product scrunched into her black mane, because it had no impact on me not getting on the ride since she’d be sitting with Ronnie’s juvenile doppelganger.

However, the rest of the shore house joined her moments later, spilling out of the line like Atlantic Ocean garbage, and it happened without me even realizing it. (How, I have no clue because everything about these people screams LOUD VOLUME, from their club voices to their stupid clanging bangle bracelets.)

At some point, though, I did realize that two stuck-up broads with Sammi-straight hair had planted themselves between me and Lisa’s carb-lovin’ caboose. That was when I noticed their extended shore house posse commingling nearby.

I was pretty certain these were just kids and I had Henry’s voice reverberating through my head like some paternally obnoxious surround sound reminding me of the Golden Rule: Keep your hands to yourself. HOWEVER, I wanted to ride this fucking ride and I had paid my dues by wasting unlimited minutes absorbing the banality of these strange Italian offshoots. So I opened my big mouth and used my best condescending sneer to say, “Um, excuse me, but I have been standing in this line for fucking ever and where the hell did you people come from?”

I know I looked pathetic as a shit to these girls, too, probably more nerdy librarian than hotheaded scene mom, but I didn’t care. Here I was, some old broad, standing in line ALONE (they didn’t know that I actually did have a friend there with me at one point!), getting all Hall Monitor about line-jumping.

“Uh, I was standing here the whole time. I’m with her,” the Jersey Prom Queen replied in the most grating, punch-worthy lilt of all time, sidling up closer to her friend. She was totally not standing there the whole time, but there was really not much I could do short of putting my hands on her and getting thrown in jail. Over a CARNIVAL RIDE. (You can’t tell me I don’t have some semblance of maturity—look how I rationalized right there!) But I was definitely not allowing the other TEN FUCKERS put me back further in line.

“And these people?” I said with attitude bigger than my flesh innertube, Vanna White’ing my hand over to their posse, who were now staring at me with nervous anticipation (one of them was one of those fucking Eddie Munster-looking things and approximately 8 years old).

“Um, they’re not in line. They’re just standing there, ” she said all self-righteously, which is totally my schtick.

OMG I WANTED TO RIP OFF HER FIVE-INCH-WIDE RHINESTONE BELT & WHIP THE SHIT-EATING GRIN RIGHT OFF HER SPRAY-TANNED FACE.  It’s times like these that I should not be left alone because my hot-headedness tends to skew things. I need sane, mild-tempered people around me to describe to me what the situation really looks like. Janna used to always tell me, “You’re going to get your face shot off one day.”

Then of course I wound up with the seat in front of them so they got to snicker about the old lady who NARC’d on the line jumpers and then rode alone because she has no friends except for the alley cats she shares food with. (I didn’t actually hear them talking about me, but wouldn’t you?)

After the ride, I met back up with Henry and Chooch and told them about my mild confrontation, which I was still irrationally fired up about. Henry, his tone having an undercurrent of “Listen to how this sounds,” asked me, “You started a fight with kids?”

Oh well; at least I didn’t witness any Jersey Turnpiking.

  12 Responses to “Westmoreland County Fair 2011, Part 3: The Jersey Shore Invasion”

  1. I am a hardcore addict of Jersey Shore. It’s one of the five shows in my DVR. It’s freaking ridiculous and I’d kill myself if I was like any of them, but I can’t help myself. The streets in Utah are plastered in Affliction shirts but thankfully, I haven’t seen any blow-outs. Yet.

  2. ok so listen…I would have done the same…One time I was at kings island in ohio with some derby friends, and these shitty ass abercrombie and fitch tweens made it a point to look at me and my friends, then whisper really loudly about how “weird” we were. I then proceeded to give them a piece of my mind that ended in “youre like…12 ….youre not even on my radar(I have no clue where this came from but it made sense at the time).

    • Fucking kids! And fucking laws, too. It’s so hard to refrain from snatching them by the hair.

      And really, I think some of the kids in the crew might (MIGHT) have been 18. So there was a slight chance I could have possibly let my temper guide me and gotten away with it.

      The last fair I went to, Janna was standing in line for ice cream. It was her turn next and these 2 young kids cut right in front of her and she let them. I don’t have much patience. I have too much entitlement.

  3. I am freaking out over these pictures. I can’t get over that little kid with the blow out. We were at a wedding recently and some of the guys were drunk and I talked them all into “hittin that beat” on the dance floor. They did it. I have pics to prove it. I should post them soon.

    Also, I can’t believe you didn’t deck that bitch right in the face!

    • I wanted to! But then who would be the bigger asshole, this snotty kid or the 32-year-old lady standing in line alone? Even I’m sensible enough to realize that I can’t go around punching teenagers no matter how badly I want to. (Honestly I wanted to fuck up her hair more than anything!)
      Yes, post those pics!

  4. Oh, that’s definitely me! I hate, hate, hate line jumpers! Or movie seat savers. You know, those people who when you go to sit down at the movie theater, obnoxiously say, “Sorry, these seats are saved. The entire row.” Right, sure, cause one single person saving an entire row of seats for people who may or may not show up, for all I know, is totally legit.

    I always say something. I rarely get anywhere, but I at least have the satisfaction of saying something. Keeping my mouth shut when people are rude has never been my strong point. :)

    Loved this post!

    Stopping by from The Mom Loop Friday follow.

    • Thanks, Tiffany!

      I rarely get anywhere either, although one time some teenager walked by my house and threw an empty pack of cigarettes in my front yard. I made her come back and pick it up, which went over REAL WELL (she did do it though in the end). I was only 21 at the time so at least I wasn’t “Some Mom” yelling at the whippersnappers, lol.

  5. Those people are Romi Gypsies. They are not trying to imitate anyone. They pretty much keep to themselves, so they dress and act a lot alike. I promise you they are not trying to look like the people on Jersey Shore. That was real disappointing you had post such malicious crap because you assumed you thought you knew.

    • I posted “malicious crap” because they treated me horribly and we acting like general assholes. Faaaaaaar from “not bothering anybody.”

      But THANKS FOR THE INFORMATION. They must be related to you. But there I go “assuming” again. ;)

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