Jersey Shore . . . Canadian Style

Latest Session, taken in parts from a long-time annoyance and recent conversation with my BFF Kristy. All of her infinate wisdom has not yet landed her on Blogspot, so I will bring her along for this one as co-author and fellow woman in need of getting something off her chest.

I have yet to relate this topic to my writing, but there is something I need to divulge...something that has wrenched itself into my mind and I cannot help but write a post to save me and all of woman-kind out there who may suffer from a similar blinding sight.

Let me take you on a journey into the wilderness of a big city and introduce you to the species of man we like to call, Jersey Shore Canadian Style. Let's watch shall we, as he gets out of his vehicle at the local grocery store...

A young man in his early twenties (sometimes older and under the assumption that we didn't notice he aged in the last 10 to 20 years) has just stepped into the parking lot. What is he wearing you ask? Let's take a closer look ladies...

Low riding track pants with a special glimpse of the love-handles, and flip flops (which are a must in summer or on those warmer winter days for that beer store run when shoes don't matter and only cooooool counts). His hat is turned backward, or on a feelin' spunky sort of day, turned ever so slightly to the left. And that's right, ladies. That is a "wife-beater" shirt he is wearing. You know the one...arms cut off to show those not-so-ripped muscles and celtic knot armband tattoo that the rest of us got over a year or so after they were "the thing". And if our specimen is feeling spunky (lucky for us, today he is!) he'll be wearing a pair of white sunglasses, even on cloudy days. These will soon be turned to sit on the back of the neck, under the swiftly styled "messy look" hair, for a dose of extra-cool later at the checkout.

Note: This look is meant to appear thrown together, but we all know it took 1.468 hours in front of the mirror to get that hat just right.

This species of (and I use the term loosely) man is typically found driving one of two vehicles. A black Dodge truck, raised with extra large kick-ass, look-at-me-coming wheels (penis extention) or a Jeep. The Jeep, with the same sort of wheels, top down in all kinds of weather, is the perfect choice for the less beefy sort of man who chooses a more "way cool surfer appeal".

Either vehicle must meet two criteria in decor.

1. That annoying decal of Calvin in sunglasses taking a wiz on a [insert the name of any other brand of truck but his] logo.

2. A bumper sticker that reads: I Love Blowjobs.

Do you? Do you really? Thanks for sharing.

Still in our eyesight, he walzes into the store and yes, ladies, we do a double-take in his direction because we just aren't sure if yet another one has managed to fit his ego through the sliding door--but look. Yes. Yes he has. Astounding isn't it?

If the above description fits anyone who may be reading this blog, I apologize. But please keep reading, even if only to learn that women are not checking you out, hotstuff, when looking twice as you walk past. We are laughing inside at how shit hot you think you are. That smirk you shine at my second glance only makes me laugh harder, out loud now, because I know you are thinking, "Oh, yeeeaaaahhhh. I am so f***in' awesome."

No.

No you are not.

It all would be tolerable but they really do think they are "All that and a bag of chips". Maybe it's just my age (I will admit to being in my thirties, nothing more, and yes, styles have changed since my day in the 80s. Good lord, we thought we were cool then, too, in our lace gloves with the fingers cut out and lifesaver colored leg warmers.) But I am certain some woman in her "thirties" would have written about us losers, too, if there was such a thing as blogging.

There wasn't.

How fortunate for me.

Another sure sign it is in fact the JSCS is the female counter-part almost always at his side. Ain't she pretty? Let's take a closer look...

Boob job (not so much a problem except that do we really need to show off the girls with push up bras three sizes too small? We all have them. Boobs, I mean. All sizes, all shapes, all lovely, so there is no need to push 'em up in all our faces.) Yes, we are looking and that's why you're advertising, so keep the hissy fit to yourself when men (and women) stare a little too long at the pumpkins.

We can't discount those low cut t-shirts either (size XXS no matter what really fits) with bold letters across the front reading, I Love Blowjobs.

Match made in heaven? I think so.

She also wears a matching pair of white sunglasses (though hers are three sizes bigger), jewelled nails, jeans that either ride too low, snug too tight and always drag a good three inches on the ground (or used to but all of that walking on the backs with her flip-flops or extra tall thick soles clear f*** me pumps has torn the frayed edges right off). Or she may be wearing a spare pair of her boyfriend's track pants rolled to just below her knee. This, of course, is a sure sign she is thinking, "look at me! I slept over at my wicked-awesome boyfriend's house and got pumped!"

Insert sexy tramp stamp [here]

I hate to judge. I am sure these two are nice people. And I know we all have our faux pas and we've all had our moments. But it would help if the two of them didn't eye everyone else with that I-am-like-so-much-cooler-than-you attitude.


Yep. You probably are. Way cooler.

But then, I don't spend 120 dollars on a pair of Lulu pants, the rest of my paycheck going to hair gel.

Glad to get that off my chest. And not to worry if you shop at Lulu or have the white sunglasses or even wear flip flops in winter. It's putting it all together with the attitude that seals the deal. We all like big trucks. We've all had that "shit-hot moment" in a sassy pair of designer jeans. I hold no illusions of how awesome I am not in my Mommy capri pants and Converse runners that I should have put in the back of the closet after grade nine.

Well, JSCS's...Thanks for the laugh.

Disclaimers:

I do not trash you, Lulu Lemon. Nothing personal. My husband thinks your brand of clothing is phenominal and would stand in front of any number of your stores and "people watch" if it didn't mean he'd look like a freak show stalker. As he says, Lulu makes women's asses look hot. Best clothing designed. Ever.

Dodge and Jeep. I have a personal weakness for both. Black ones in particular. But let's face it. You thrive on those JSCS men in need of a flashy penis extension. I applaud you for your ability to schmooze them, pump their egos and put them on the road. Somebody has to.

Calvin & Hobbes, I love you. You are still adorning my bulletin board and the bottom of emails everywhere. I will not hold it against you for peeing on that Ford symbol, just the JSCS boys who still think it's funny.

Converse Runners, I will wear you until I am eighty-three. I Promise.

 

A quote from K8:
"I totally love Jeeps. I'd get a pink one."