Avoid the Southern New Jersey Beaches at All Costs: A Time for Bitchin' continues...
I'm gonna warn ya, right here right now. This post is fairly weak. I'm tired. I just can't seem to get it up. So, if you're not completely satisfied, I'm sure you can figure out what to do with yourself...
Forgot about lookin’ for a savior. Your light in all this darkness can be found here. Don’t be all disappointed. It’s not the answer to life’s questions. It’s just a means of catchin’ up.
Like a Jedi master, I can sense your frustration with my Jersey Shore bashin’. The dark side frustration is. Crank one off, you must. Or, just hang in there. It’s almost all out of my system. One more post after this one, and we’ll be done. We can move onto greener pastures. Ok? Tonight, though, the bile WILL run free.
As in many things in life, a little history lesson is needed. I hear you moanin’. And not in that “I can’t wait for you to put it in my ass” sexy kinda way, either. You won’t need your 8th grade text books for this one. ‘Cause I know how much you folks hate history, bein’s the country’s in the same situation it was 35 years ago. Unwinable “war”, fuel issues, great leadership, you know the beef. Actually you don’t know the beef, or we won’t be in the situation we are. But hey, keep on watchin’ The Apprentice. Helpin’ Trump make even more money sure is helpin’ the country out. However, I digress…
Growin’ up, and into my teenage the Juice years, I was a fan of the carnival. Big fan. Big fan. Nothing like the carny. The dirtiness. The folkels. The funnel cake. To the Juice, it was a lil slice of hillbilly heaven right here on earth. But, as the Juice got older, my love of carnivals dissipated. Probably from the Disney factor. The more the Juice visited Disney World, the less I liked anything else. Disney is so…Disney compared to the carny. Ya just can’t compare one to the other. So, like a teenager not gettin’ beyond first base, my love for the carny slowly disappeared.
What the hell does this have to do with Wastaway Cove? If you can keep your panties out of your ass for 8 bloody seconds, I’ll tell ya. The place is a glorified carny. A pseudo carny, if you will. Without all the charmin' experiences of the carny, either. And by callin’ the Wastaway Cove a carny, I totally disrespect the folks who run the travelin spectacles. My apologies to those nobel folks.
First of all, the idiots runnin' the Cove cramped as many crappy rides into the place as they could. It’s nearly impossible to walk. There's no marked walkways, either. When it’s crowded, there’s no tellin’ where the crowds begin and the lines end. And what do you do if you have an amusement park for the tots? You put rides right at the entrance, so no one can navigate. Oh, and lets have misc carts and such, shut down, further blockin’ the walk ways. Who cares, right? As long as there’s a kid, there’ll be a stupid parent payin’ for the kids rides. So fuck’em! Lets jam the place up like a dime store hooker. You paid for 'er, right?
And would it kill Wastaway Cove to have somethin' for the adults to do? I mean, c’mon!!! If you ever want to know what purgatory is, take a ride to Wastaway Cove. Bleary eyed parent millin’ about. Throwin’ money here, there and everywhere. Each one wonderin’ when eternity is gonna end. That’s the Wastaway Cove experience. How about somethin’ for the adults? A bar or somethin’ for the love of the Christ. Oh, I forgot. Ocean City is a dry town. So much for the bar idea. Ah, fuck it. Who needs adult entertainment, right? Our lives are fuckin’ sweet as it is. Workin’ for the man day in day out. Havin’ the best years of our lives whittled down so some fuckface CEO can have yet another house for the 54th whore he’s keepin' shacked up. That sure as shit brings meanin’ to life, don’t it? And the family, whew! Thank the Christ I signed up for that! Family makes it all bearable. You know the way they scream bloody murder the second you get into the door. That's the best! And the constant mind fuckin’! Dang, I wish marriage last TWO lifetimes!
But, the stupidest part of Wastaway Cove is the train. They’ve got this slow movin' train that runs around the place. What self-respectin’ pseudo carny wouldn’t have a train, right? Well, the god damn thing cuts through major walkways. Uhhhh….duh?!?!? That some sweet plannin’ go on there. The train cuts the main entrance off and the back entrance. Granted, the train isn’t like a road construction crew where they block off lanes at a time for miles and do nothing. The train moves. Just slow. And when the place is packed, it just makes things worse. I almost forgot the best part. They’ve got to have some dumb fuck teenager walk in front of the train to ward off the people, just like a crossin' guard. Only not paid as much, and not nearly as bright. My guess is that Wastaway Cove must’ve had a lawsuit thrown at them. Why else take such a precaution? You ain't gonna spend a dime unless you have to, right? Right? Right?
I won’t even get into the pricin' situation. What’s the use? You know you’re gonna get raped the second you step foot one into the place, so why waste my breath. Just know when you go to that place, much like buyin' an engagement ring, you better bring 2 months salary with you. Cause aren't they worth it?
Well, that’s it. I’m tired and bored. I may come back with the final post. I don’t know. It’s a bit weak. I think that maybe we should cum already so the bitch can go see her other “Johns”. We’ll see how the Juice feels. Now, don’t go hangin’ yourself if I decide this is it. There’s plenty of other obnoxious shit comin’ up. Alright?
Forgot about lookin’ for a savior. Your light in all this darkness can be found here. Don’t be all disappointed. It’s not the answer to life’s questions. It’s just a means of catchin’ up.
Like a Jedi master, I can sense your frustration with my Jersey Shore bashin’. The dark side frustration is. Crank one off, you must. Or, just hang in there. It’s almost all out of my system. One more post after this one, and we’ll be done. We can move onto greener pastures. Ok? Tonight, though, the bile WILL run free.
As in many things in life, a little history lesson is needed. I hear you moanin’. And not in that “I can’t wait for you to put it in my ass” sexy kinda way, either. You won’t need your 8th grade text books for this one. ‘Cause I know how much you folks hate history, bein’s the country’s in the same situation it was 35 years ago. Unwinable “war”, fuel issues, great leadership, you know the beef. Actually you don’t know the beef, or we won’t be in the situation we are. But hey, keep on watchin’ The Apprentice. Helpin’ Trump make even more money sure is helpin’ the country out. However, I digress…
Growin’ up, and into my teenage the Juice years, I was a fan of the carnival. Big fan. Big fan. Nothing like the carny. The dirtiness. The folkels. The funnel cake. To the Juice, it was a lil slice of hillbilly heaven right here on earth. But, as the Juice got older, my love of carnivals dissipated. Probably from the Disney factor. The more the Juice visited Disney World, the less I liked anything else. Disney is so…Disney compared to the carny. Ya just can’t compare one to the other. So, like a teenager not gettin’ beyond first base, my love for the carny slowly disappeared.
What the hell does this have to do with Wastaway Cove? If you can keep your panties out of your ass for 8 bloody seconds, I’ll tell ya. The place is a glorified carny. A pseudo carny, if you will. Without all the charmin' experiences of the carny, either. And by callin’ the Wastaway Cove a carny, I totally disrespect the folks who run the travelin spectacles. My apologies to those nobel folks.
First of all, the idiots runnin' the Cove cramped as many crappy rides into the place as they could. It’s nearly impossible to walk. There's no marked walkways, either. When it’s crowded, there’s no tellin’ where the crowds begin and the lines end. And what do you do if you have an amusement park for the tots? You put rides right at the entrance, so no one can navigate. Oh, and lets have misc carts and such, shut down, further blockin’ the walk ways. Who cares, right? As long as there’s a kid, there’ll be a stupid parent payin’ for the kids rides. So fuck’em! Lets jam the place up like a dime store hooker. You paid for 'er, right?
And would it kill Wastaway Cove to have somethin' for the adults to do? I mean, c’mon!!! If you ever want to know what purgatory is, take a ride to Wastaway Cove. Bleary eyed parent millin’ about. Throwin’ money here, there and everywhere. Each one wonderin’ when eternity is gonna end. That’s the Wastaway Cove experience. How about somethin’ for the adults? A bar or somethin’ for the love of the Christ. Oh, I forgot. Ocean City is a dry town. So much for the bar idea. Ah, fuck it. Who needs adult entertainment, right? Our lives are fuckin’ sweet as it is. Workin’ for the man day in day out. Havin’ the best years of our lives whittled down so some fuckface CEO can have yet another house for the 54th whore he’s keepin' shacked up. That sure as shit brings meanin’ to life, don’t it? And the family, whew! Thank the Christ I signed up for that! Family makes it all bearable. You know the way they scream bloody murder the second you get into the door. That's the best! And the constant mind fuckin’! Dang, I wish marriage last TWO lifetimes!
But, the stupidest part of Wastaway Cove is the train. They’ve got this slow movin' train that runs around the place. What self-respectin’ pseudo carny wouldn’t have a train, right? Well, the god damn thing cuts through major walkways. Uhhhh….duh?!?!? That some sweet plannin’ go on there. The train cuts the main entrance off and the back entrance. Granted, the train isn’t like a road construction crew where they block off lanes at a time for miles and do nothing. The train moves. Just slow. And when the place is packed, it just makes things worse. I almost forgot the best part. They’ve got to have some dumb fuck teenager walk in front of the train to ward off the people, just like a crossin' guard. Only not paid as much, and not nearly as bright. My guess is that Wastaway Cove must’ve had a lawsuit thrown at them. Why else take such a precaution? You ain't gonna spend a dime unless you have to, right? Right? Right?
I won’t even get into the pricin' situation. What’s the use? You know you’re gonna get raped the second you step foot one into the place, so why waste my breath. Just know when you go to that place, much like buyin' an engagement ring, you better bring 2 months salary with you. Cause aren't they worth it?
Well, that’s it. I’m tired and bored. I may come back with the final post. I don’t know. It’s a bit weak. I think that maybe we should cum already so the bitch can go see her other “Johns”. We’ll see how the Juice feels. Now, don’t go hangin’ yourself if I decide this is it. There’s plenty of other obnoxious shit comin’ up. Alright?
Damn, what a fucking baby…
posted by the Juice at 10:26 PM
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