The Shore

Orange and I took a min-break to NJ last weekend, and what a trip it was!

It was planned on a whim after finding a favourite band was touring again for the first time in, oh, I don't know...  forever? Not able to pass up the opportunity for shenanigans we pulled out our credit cards and purchased two tickets for the closest venue: NJ. Thank the sweet baby Shiloh for Orange's quadruple platinum hotel points and Air Miles on which the remainder of the trip was funded.

But you can't just go to Jersey for the night, right? Pfft. So we left Friday with plans of hauling our fabulous @sses to the Shore for the day, back in town (well, Hoboken) for the concert Saturday.

Let's begin by saying if I never have to drive in Jersey again, I will be a happy Library Lady. When an address can be as complicated as "US Route 1&9 78 local" (different from US Route 1&9 78), you know it's not a place you want to navigate. It's like a bad math joke... You can't even punch that sh*t into a GPS! Trust me, I tried (with Orange breathing down my neck.) And for those who might think I'm exaggerating and/or a bad driver, feast your eyes on the all-star road engineering pictured left. How many turnpikes does it take to drive one couple to fisticuffs? Ask the New Jersey city planners...

Once we actually arrived at the Jersey Shore, we opted to leave the car at the hotel and taxi to the boardwalk. Orange wanted to enjoy the weekend, and his fun was being stifled by my nails digging into the side of his face. The nice hotel lady hailed our taxi, and when "Linda" arrived she handed us her "business card" which read "I'll drive you to drink." Heck yes! Bet your butters that card is now proudly displayed on our fridge.


And Linda was serious... Without prompting she dropped us off at the front door of a place called EJs, home of the $2 pints, which naturally became our second, third, and fourth stop (*blush*). The boardwalk is exactly what you want it to be: deep fried mozzarella balls, Snookie hair, Guidos, old ladies picking up young men, "beat that beat up" house music pouring out of every arcade at ear-piercing decibles, and the best people watching I've had in a long time. And let's not forget more Rastafarian bananas than I could count!

Orange (ironically) got angry trying to win an angry bird. We took a ride on the iconic Shore roller coaster. I bought salt water taffy. Jim debated purchasing an "I heart puggles" garden stone (they were fresh out of "I heart truffle pigs"), and I got a back tattoo (I considered the Jesus piece, but opted my boyfriend's name instead...) And no, it's not permanent.

After buying Poomobile a pair of underpants with the words "Team Meatball" printed on the seat at the legendary Shore Store (note the Jersey Shore roof top patio in the photo), we stumbled over to Karma where we were told--in not so many words--that we were too unattractive to join in their reindeer games. Eight hours at EJs will do that to a person... So we took our fabulousness home and raided the vending machine in the lobby instead. I love me some Cheezits.

The concert on Saturday blew my mind. They are hands down the best group I've seen live. The talent is amazing, none of them actually playing one instrument, per se, but rather rotating duties throughout the night. At one point Brad was playing the bongos, the harmonica, and singing... WTF? The clip I've given you is crap, but gives you an idea of the crowd at Red Bull (which is the biggest venue I've ever been in...) If you don't know Dispatch, for a better look at the kind of music they're capable of check out the video of them at Madison Square Gardens:

Aside from the irrationally enraged mother and her seriously annoying infant sitting in front of us on the plane ride home (who consequently picked a fight with the both the flight attendants, sticking around to yell at the pilot after disembarking), this was a top notch mini vacay. Next time I'll bring my Bumpit.