Avoid the Southern New Jersey Beaches at All Costs: A Time for Bitchin' Finally Ends

Seagulls suck!

If you’re askin’ yourself: “What the fuck is goin on?” Then, click your fine ass on overhere. Otherwise grab your bottle of Zima and read on…

Well, it’s time to celebrate. We’ve finally reached the end of this series. Thank the Christ for that, is all I can say. It’s a long road you and I’ve been on. You’ve really hung in there. But, you’re holdin’ me back now. It’s time for me to move on. Don’t cry. We can still be “friends”.

If you remember from here and here I told you about my run ins with seagulls. Dang, I hate seagulls. The Juice is more than a bit biased when it comes to birds, though. There’s just somethin’ about them. Something evil. If you seen that Alfred Hitchcock picture, you know what I mean. Birds ain’t right. And havin’ them for pets is a lot more not right. The Juice had a friend growin’ up who had a gaggle of birds as “pets”. And those birds ruled the place. They flew free. They tore up everything, the furniture, the carpet everything. Not to mention the crap. I don’t want to say the crap was everywhere, but the birds would shit any ol’place. You never knew when you were goin’ to get a Sunday surprise. Man, I hated going over his house.

Not that I gotta tell ya, but one of the worst things in life is bein’ shit on (And you thought the Juice was gonna say bein’ married for 10 years. Fooled ya!). And the Juice ain’t speakin’ metaphorically, here. The Juice is bein’ literal. Although, it does kinda suck in the metaphorical sense, but more so in the literal sense. The Juice has had his share of direct hits by those winged vermin. Luckily never in the hair or the mouth. Cause as bad as it is bein’ shit on, it’s that much worse in the hair of the mouth. Talk about a day killer. If something like that happens, you should be given a free pass of societal laws. Kinda like this:

You’re walkin’ along outside one mornin’tired as can be. You had a rough night. You didn’t get much sleep from fuckin’ some hot broad the night prior. Anyway, you let out a huge yawn, and against all odds (and to your misfortune) a bird craps in your mouth. We agree that sucks, right? Well, here’s what the Juice proposes. As soon as that birds crap hits the back of your throat, some secret agent appears out of no where and hands you a little card. About the size of a business card. You’re about to haul off on this punk’s ass, cause you’re pissed about the shit in the mouth thing, when this super secret agent informs you that you’re exempt from all societal law for the next 24 hours. Boss gettin’ on your nerves? Kick his ass. Red lights? Forget about it. Pants? Fuck ‘em. No lawsuits, no repercussions, all forgiveness. Nice, right? You then proceed to kick the super secret agent’s ass, cause you can. Even though he knows 75 ways to snap your neck, he has to let you kick his ass. Get it? It rocks! Hell, I’m gonna go sit out side with my mouth wide open, and hope for a bullseye. I can’t wait to get that free pass. I’ve got an elementary school teacher who gave me a detention that could use a lil straightenin’ out. But…uhh, I digress…

Seagulls are a blight to the world. Winged vermin, if you will. And you will. I’d take a pigeon every day of the week, including Arbor Day, over seagulls. And if you know me, and really you don’t, then you know how much I hate pigeons. Now, I ain’t no Bert here. What’s the deal with that muppet, anyway? I know. I’ve heard the rumors that Bert and Ernie are gay. But that’s just stupid. They’re puppets for the love of the Christ! They’ve got no genitalia! People who go on about Bert and Ernie bein’ gay ought get their heads examined. No, my problem with Bert is his attitude. What’s up his ass? He’s a total dick. If I was Ernie, I’d tell that miserable bastard to go fuck hisself. Then, if I’m still Ernie, I’d be movin’ in with Prairie Dawn. Now, that’s a muppet piece of ass. Either her or Gina. Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t gonna be doing a “The Glory of…” about Gina, but she ain’t bad. I’d say that she was a bit out of Ernie’s league though. But, if he left Bert at home, changed his shirt, I’d be willin’ to bet that Ernie could at least score some hand from Gina. And Prairie Dawn? Shit, Ernie owns the store on that sexy muppet. But, it seems as if the Juice as gotten off track again. All apologies. Pigeons are just nasty. But, seagulls? They’re mean, nasty and aggressive.

I suppose the problem isn’t really with the gulls. It’s with the stupid fuck tourist who feed them. Listen people. Stop feedin’ the birds. Just stop! I know at this point, it ain’t gonna do a dang thing. Those birds have been seriously humanized. Even so, if I ever go back to the Jersey shore, and if I ever catch a one of ya feedin’ those birds, I will put a serious, SERIOUS hurtin’ on you. Whether I’ve got one of those “special” cards I talked about early or not.

As for the rest of my beefs with the Jersey shore…What else can I say? I’ve already bitched about the beach tags. I could go on about how dirty the ocean appears. All that seaweed, and needles and fish and all the crap living in the ocean. Ugggghhhh. It just sceeves me out. I’ll take a chlorinated pool over the ocean every day of the week, including Boxin' Day. I’m sure at this point, though, you get how bad the Jersey shore sucks. If nothing else, I hope I’ve convinced you to never go to the southern Jersey beaches again. If I still haven’t convinced you, then at least don’t go to Ocean City. If not that, then…ahhh fuck it. I don’t give shit one what you do. Suffer the misery yourself. I can’t wait to read about it on your blog.

So, I guess this is the end. Hard to believe it’s takin’ the Juice almost 2 months to get it all out. Talk about stretchin’…sheesh. I know some of you might be worried about the future. Where do we go from here? Now that all the vacation stories have be told. That’s a good question. Believe you me, there’s plenty of other stories to tell. The Juice has plenty of other vacations to write about. Like the time I contracted the super flu while vacationin’ in Florida and nearly died. Or the time I was suppose to met some friends at Disney World and it was so packed that it took hours to find them. You know, sucky stuff like that. And hey, if I can’t come up with anything good, then we say our “Go Fuck Yourselves” and close up shop.