Things started out easy enough – I did the border first, just as they teach you in puzzle class.  But when it came to putting the cast together, I ran into some serious problems.  Why, you ask?  Well, it’s pretty difficult trying to figure out which piece belongs to which person when they all have shiny orange skin, manicured nails, and way too much jewelry:

So, I had to continue working from the outside in; it was easier to follow the grain in the wall and the pattern of the carpet than to determine whose orange leg or greasy hair belonged to whom. The clothes helped a bit in putting these idiots together – purple dress for Sammi, leopard print for Deena, overly stretched out black pleather for Snooki.

Eventually everything came together and I was almost done with my masterpiece. I just had a few more pieces to fit in before I could call this puzzle finished.

After figuring out where to put Snooki’s wonky eye:

Pauly D’s scalp:

J-WOWW’s tits:

and Deena’s sexy cankle:

I have a finished puzzle!

Even I’ll admit that joking about our governor’s weight is not only getting tired, it can be mean – and Kimmel’s first joke was a tad too much. For those interested, he said something about how inside each governor is a president waiting to get out – in Christie’s case you can still hear him screaming.  But after that cheap shot, he said something genius.

He suggested that Christie was confused and thought New Jersey’s nickname was the Olive Garden State.  Okay, maybe it’s not the best joke ever, but I think it works on so many levels, beyond just making fun of our governor’s girth. Drive past any of the many strip malls on the many highways in the Armpit of America and you’re bound to see an Olive Garden or three.  Aside from that, Olive Garden serves its patrons faux-Italian food, just like the many faux-Italian people calling this state home. And just like olives have a nasty stench, so does this state.

You can check out the whole Chris Christie thing below – starts at about 1:45:

I know we’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but I’m totally judging this bottle of wine by the label.  With the fricken Jersey Devil AND bees, how could it not be bad?

So how did does it taste?  Well, it’s thick as syrup and cloyingly sweet….which is exactly how this connoisseur of fine wine likes it.  Just like Manischewitz wine I grew up with.

So if you like wine that tastes like extra sweet grape juice with a touch of honey, give Valenzano Jersey Devil Honey Wine a try.  They also make a bunch of other wines, inspired by the fruits of the Pine Barrens, like blueberry wine, cranberry wine, and even “cranpagne.”

As stated three seconds ago, I got a new job. It’s in Middletown, Armpit of America, only 10 minutes from the town I grew up in, in a building I’ve driven past hundreds of times.  Around the time I was being considered for thsi job, I was also interviewing for a position in Pennsylvania. Though I was kinda of excited about the prospect of leaving this state once and for all, I got an offer from the place in Middletown and never heard back from the Pennsylvania job.  Apparently, there really is no escape from New Jersey.

After a brief stint back home, with an enjoyable 10 minute commute, I moved back to Belmar.  Rather than another beachfront apartment, I’m now in a quaint little cottage in a quieter part of town.  It’s definitely more conducive to writing, so I hope to blog more frequently.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s catch up with some of my favorite New Jersey personalities.

Chris Christie has his highest approval ratings yet, despite being proven to be a liar.  While this might seem to be a paradox, it just proves that New Jersey has a love affair with corrupt politicians.

Snooki is pregnant.  While she claims her boyfriend Gianni is the father, I wouldn’t be surprised if the baby comes out with a receding hairline and a smug, undeserved sense of accomplishment.

Bruce Springsteen is touring again. I tried to get tickets but – surprise! – Ticketmaster screwed me over.  On the bright side, since I couldn’t see Bruce last week, I went to Video Games Live instead!  It was amazing!  They have an orchestra performing music from video games – it’s actually a lot cooler than it sounds.  Maybe.

During the show, they played the music from Castlevania and brought out the woman who composed the original soundtrack for the game. Who looked like she was 20, despite the fact that the game came out in 1986. She must be undead just like the characters in the game.  Anyway, it turns out that this women recently moved from Japan to New Jersey. Why anyone would do that is beyond me.

One more update – I’m actually going to Japan! While I wish I could say it’s to investigate why Kinuyo Yamashita left her home country for the Armpit of America, it’s more of a vacation.  But maybe it will inspire to bring back my old State Vs. State (or country) feature. Maybe.

I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but I just think the whole thing is a bit excessive.  Though she grew up in the Armpit of America, she hasn’t lived here since she became famous.  So why is Christie calling her such an icon and giving her this rare distinction?  Especially for someone who spent the last decade of her life addicted to Bobby Brown and crack. Sure, she was a talented singer, but does that automatically pardon her poor life choices?

What worries me is the precedent this action sets up – if we have to fly the flags at half-mast for every dead crackhead from Newark, the American flag may never fly at full mast in New Jersey ever again.

In other sad news from North Jersey, the city of Hoboken decided not to allow MTV to film Snooki and J-WOWW in a spinoff of “Jersey Shore.”  Instead, the show will be filmed in Jersey City.  I could care less.  Yes, that’s right.  I’m over “Jersey Shore.”  Five seasons in, the show has completely lost the luster of its first season.  Gone is the fun and goofy group we came to know.  Instead, we have a bunch of millionaires trying to outdo each other to get more screen time and more endorsements.

1) The Most Surprising Thing I’ve Ever Seen in New Jersey – Come along as I uncover a little known event in New Jersey – a farm animal auction.  You’ll see a cardboard box full of roosters, miniature horses, and an Amish auctioneer.

2) My Latest Obsession: Teresa Guidice – This past year, I got hooked on Real Housewives of New Jersey.  And what was it that drew me in?  The crazy-eyed train wreck that is Teresa Guidice.

3) ArmpitNJ.com Exclusive: Snooki’s First Draft! – Snooki became a best-selling author this year, but all the credit should go to her ghost writer.  I managed to get my hands on Snooki’s original draft for A Shore Thing.

4) Killer Klowns from Outer Space: A Review – Sure, the movie doesn’t really have anything to do with New Jersey.  But it was so krazy I couldn’t resist writing about it.

5) No Escape from “Escape from New Jersey” – What better way to spend a night than playing a drinking board game?  This simple game just proves that there really is no escape from the Armpit of America.

It tastes like burning...and Snooki

Due to a certain show on MTV, the Jersey Shore is more popular than ever.  To appease a public hungry for all things Jersey Shore and to capitalize on it, companies are selling anything related to the shore in one way or another.  So, this holiday season, you can buy the guido-wannabes in your life all sorts of Jersey Shore merchandise, like ornaments and perfume.  Just put the words “Jersey Shore” on something, and you’ll have a bunch of idiots willing to by it.

I am one of those idiots.

While at the liquor store the other night looking for something to bring to a Chanukah party, I saw a bumper-sticker-like Jersey Shore label stuck on a bottle of vodka.  Being the fanboy that I am, I snatched it up and brought it to the register without giving a second thought.  After taking it home, I realized that some things are worth deliberating.  Jersey Shore branded vodka is one of those things.

This Jersey Shore vodka has nothing to do with the MTV show of the same name.  It doesn’t really have much to do with the real Jersey Shore either.  Though the perimeter of the label is lined with the names of various party towns on the Jersey Shore, there is one glaring mistake.  Among all the locations known for their bars and crazy nightlife, like Seaside, Pt. Pleasant, Wildwood, and Belmar, appears Spring Lake, a town known for rich old people and little else.  Why Spring Lake would be included on a bottle of vodka is beyond me.

Turning around the bottle, it started to make sense.  The company that produces it is located in Philadelphia, which, last time I checked, was in Pennsylvania.  And though the front of the bottle proclaims it to be “Extra Premium,” the only details we’re provided with is that this Jersey Shore vodka was “Distilled from grain.”  And that’s really all the details you get.  There’s no other text on the bottle.  No story about how Jersey Shore Vodka came to be.  No suggestions for partying it up Jersey Shore style.  No recipes or anything else.  Just a label with the words “Jersey Shore” and an ill-advised list of shore party towns.

But enough about the bottle.  How does Jersey Shore vodka taste?  I’d have to wait for the Chanukah party to find out.  The day soon came and after getting drunk on latkes and brisket, it was time to get drunk on something else.  A few of us decided to take a shot.  Now you’d think Jersey Shore vodka would taste like the Jersey Shore – a distinct mix of saltwater, latex, stale beer, cold pizza, tanning oil, and sweat.  And how did Jersey Shore vodka taste?  Like vodka.  Cheap vodka to be precise.

And then it struck me.  I finally understood the connection.  Jersey Shore vodka left me with a stinging feeling in my throat and the rest of my body, and I had immediately regretted taking the shot.  And if a night at the Jersey Shore doesn’t leave you with a burning sensation and an overwhelming sense of regret, then you haven’t been to the Jersey Shore.

Last week, the day finally came for me to earn my own Pete & Elda’s shirt.  Though my friends who have completed the challenge told me it really isn’t that hard, I still expected it to be difficult.  Eating a whole pizza definitely isn’t something I do every day.  When the pizza came, I realized I had nothing to be worried about.  The crust was paper thin, crispy, and slightly charred.  Just like matzo!  I knew I had this in the bag.  Check out the video below to see how I fared.

The challenge was a lot easier than I ever expected.  Despite the name “Double Extra Large” the pizza wasn’t big at all.  Now for a real pizza eating challenge at the Jersey Shore, I suggest eating a whole large pie at Three Brothers in Belmar.

Like the slideshow above?  I have more!

Celebrate an either late or really early Halloween by watching as I create a scale replica of Snooki out of pumpkins.

The New Jersey Turnpike isn’t a total waste – it has an IKEA!

As you can see above, Escape from New Jersey isn’t technically a board game.  It’s more of a laminated piece of paper that comes in a cardboard tube, so you’ll need to weigh down the corners to keep it from rolling back up.  And rather than having real game pieces, you just get cheap plastic cowboys and Indians that can’t even stand up on their own.  Yeah, the whole thing is pretty flimsy.  Flimsy, but fun.

Escape from New Jersey is a lot like any typical drinking game; you’re expected to take drinks, force other people to drink, and make up dumb rules that if not obeyed cause you to drink even more.  But what makes the game special is all of the Jersey-centric items on the game board.  For instance, land on the Governor square and, just like Chris Christie, you get to make up your own rules.  Get stuck at the DMV and lose three turns.  Enter a traffic circle and go back two spaces.  Encounter a toxic spill and everyone loses a turn.

As the game progresses, though, it gets kind of annoying with all of the different rules.  And the drunker you get, the harder it is to follow all those stupid rules.  You get to the point where you just want someone to win so the game will end.  However, you soon realize that winning is pretty much impossible.  The last stretch of the game ensures that no one will ever reach the final square.

All in all, the lesson learned here is that, whether a game or real life, there is no escape from New Jersey.  Ever.

I was wrong.

So what’s with all the dramatics?  Well, I recently visited a part of the Armpit of America that I thought existed only in my nightmares.  No, not a Jersey City whorehouse.  Not a crack den in Camden either.  Not even Chris Christie’s private bathroom.  The place of horror was a farm auction.  In New Jersey.  About 20 minutes from cosmopolitan Princeton and at the confluence of three major highways.

The place is called the Camelot Horse auction, located in Cranbury, New Jersey.  Despite being surrounded by the Jersey Turnpike, Route 130, and Route 33, one arrives at the auction by traveling over a deteriorating road through a dark cornfield to get to a gravelly parking lot.  It’s still hard for me to believe that such a place could exist so close to the typical Jersey landscape of highways and strip malls.

I was invited to such a place by some friends who are just a tad more country than I am and certainly fit in better than I do.  After meeting up, we went inside an old barn to see the animals up for auction.  The barn was full of little stables, each holding a variety of horses, ponies, donkeys, sheep, and goats.  In another room were a bunch of cardboard boxes containing various smaller animals, like guinea pigs, rabbits, and pigeons.

Something tells me this guy ended up as someone's dinner that night.

But the main attraction of the farm auction was, appropriately enough, the auction room.  This section of the barn had bleachers along the walls, a big, rusty truck full of farm equipment, and a podium in the middle of the room for an Amish-looking auctioneer.  Adorned with a straw hat and a big, bushy beard, he presided over the bidding on items like shovels and feed buckets with the typical auctioneer gibberish.

When everything on the truck was sold off, the auctioneer led everyone outside to bid on some larger items, like trailers and animal crates.  And hay.  Yes, there were three giant piles of bales of hay.  As exciting as it was to watch a bunch of rednecks bid on hay, this was nothing compared to what happened next.

Everyone piled back inside to the auction room, as they were about to start auctioning off the livestock.  The rusty old truck was removed, and the animal auction was underway.  They began with the little animals; guinea pigs were going for a dollar each and a box of roosters (yes, a box of roosters) for as little as $10.  Then the goats and sheep were paraded in.  As these animals made their way to the auction floor, there was a burley guy in a John Deere hat cracking a bullwhip behind them, muttering to himself about how dumb the sheep were.  Again, this was all happening in New Jersey.

Justin Timberlake could write a song about this pic...I'll let you figure out the title.

After the smaller ungulates, it was time for the stars of the show, the horses and ponies.  One by one, the animals were ridden into the room and made to run and jump around as the auctioneer rattled off the bids.  It was just so surreal…sitting in a tiny barn watching a horse prance around to the tune of an Amish-looking guy speaking in tongues.  But don’t take my word for it, take a look for yourself:

I hope you all appreciate these pictures and video; I pretty much risked my life to take them.  You see, the people at the auction were real farm people who take their farm auctions seriously.  Along comes along this nerdy-looking, skinny-jeans-wearing, quasi-hipster desperately trying to hide his goofy smile caused by the utter ridiculousness of the whole scene.  So, yeah; each time I took out my camera, I scored quite a few dirty looks.

Though it wasn’t exactly my cup of fine herbal tea, it was a fun, and eye-opening, way to spend the evening.  On top of that, admission to the place was free.  Of course, if I wanted to spend a couple hundred dollars, I could be the proud owner of a shiny new pony.  Maybe next time.  But what I appreciated most about this adventure was that it was something I never would have expected to find in New Jersey.  While it wouldn’t shock anyone to see such a scene in Oklahoma or Kansas, you just don’t see stuff like this in the Armpit of America.  And the fact that I can still be surprised in the state that I’ve lived in for 28 years just makes me love New Jersey so much more.

Are there any odd places in New Jersey you think I should check out?  Let me know with a comment below.