There are few states in which I hate in their entirety. (1) Montana, which I refer to as the Shawn Bradley of all states due to the fact that it is big for no real reason and has nothing to contribute to the others, (2) Rhode Island, the dangling turd of the United States, (3 & 4) The Dakotas, which are the Siamese twins of the nation joined in ass to forehead manner, and of course (5) New Jersey, the typical bitch ass middle child influenced and consumed by all types of peer pressure...
BITCH ASS NEW JERSEY...
The fact that it is called the "Garden State" when there are clearly no real gardens around is asinine. In actuality, this ho ass state has more landfills than gardens, thus I vote we change the name to the "Smells like Giraffe Ass State." Every time that I am forced to enter this wretched state there is always some kind of construction going on where trees are being demolished and mini malls are being put up. I see no flowers. Just weeds. Daffodils. What type of struggle-garden is this? You know we could just call Jersey the Turnpike State. Because that's all people really need to use it for. New Jersey is just a state that needs to be passed through while on a road trip to your REAL destination. And what's worse is that you always have to pay a toll to get OUT of New Jersey...never to get in. It's like they're trying to trap you. Fury ensues every time I pay three cash plus the cost of gas just to get across the bridge to get to Philadelphia. I wonder if anyone has ended up stranded in New Jersey because they didn't have the three singles to cross the bridge. I've decided that I need to build an arc. Yes, I said it...AN ARC: to rescue all that are stuck in bitch ass New Jersey and are sick and tired of paying the toll for the bridge. Another thing: people from Jersey are not tough. I'm sick of people from Jersey bragging that they harbor the most dangerous city in America. Yes, Camden may have been ranked the most dangerous city in America in both 2004 and 2005. However in 2005, Money magazine ranked Moorestown (a city located only 10 miles away from Camden) as the number one place to live in America. HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT WORK? The best place to live in America is a 19 minute drive from the worst place to live in America. Unbelievable. It's like Mr. Rogers living next door to Oscar the Grouch and he doesn't give two steaming shits that Oscar lives in a trashcan. He just continues to sing as he laces up his Chucks so he can take the trash out and pour last nights leftovers upon Oscar's face. "Eh...you live in a trash can. You tryna tell me you're not hungry?" Damn you Rogers...keep pouring.
Some say that Jersey should be divided into North and South Jersey. For what? Because they can't make up their mind on which sports team to like? No, we will not divide New Jersey in half because it's bitch ass cannot make up it's mind. They have the New Jersey Nets, why are they not satisfied? Why must they become fans of other state's teams? OWN YOUR BITCH ASS STATE. If it's that serious we could simply cut it in half and add South Jersey to Pennsylvania and North Jersey to New York. Then the residents of North Jersey will actually have a legitimate reason to be happy the Giants won the Super Bowl and the residents of South Jersey can fully experience the agitation caused by the 76ers' lack of talent and horrendous management...
STORY TIME:
I have a friend who lives in this state of bitch-ass-ness. Chaulky. On one random night while on summer vacation, I receive a phone call from Chalky who asks me why I never come home to visit. There are numerous reasons: (1) Dash does not drive a hybrid vehicle and having a man tell me that I owe $43 to fill up my tank may force me to wrap my arm around his neck and quickly peel off at 62 mph. (2) There is absolutely nothing to do in New Jersey besides go to Atlantic City or "go down the shore" (PS...grammatically, it should be "go down to the shore"), and (3) There are absolutely no competitive pick-up basketball games due to the fact that old sweaty men storm the local gyms immediately after work just to yank off their button down sweatpants revealing every support brace one can possibly have on his body, and rub their old wrinkly, slimy bodies against you as they attempt to play effective defense (no homo).
Well, on this night I happen to have nothing to do with my life and Chaulky suggested that I come down to this party that his friend is throwing. So I figure I might as well go down there, chill for a little bit, throw back some beers, knock down a female, and pass out for a little bit before I return to Philadelphia. So I make this trip down to Chaulky's humble suburban abode.
I get there around 10 o'clock and Chaulky answers the door fully dressed with keys in hand, and states, "Let's go, we're late". Red flag numeral uno... It's 10 o'clock; this would be the time where I'm usually just rolling out of bed to get ready for a party (unless of course I have already arrived at the party early to consume all of the alcohol in the building). But apparently this party started at 8 o' clock (...smh...) and it should be "popping" by now. I say whatever and we drive to the party. Upon arrival there is a group of about 15 dudes standing outside. Red flag number 2... It's 10:30 and there is a group of 15 males standing outside of a supposedly "popping" party. This would only mean that there must be a very small amount of females in attendance. Despite this red flag, I enter the house and instantly hear a Baltimore Club track flowing out of speakers in the basement. This deems one of two things: (1) There are females actually getting it in and working out downstairs, or (2) there's a circle with niggas Wu-Tang battling in the center. I go to investigate...
I enter the hottest basement in the nation and observe the party scene. Red flag number 3. Females are standing around and there is a circle of niggas (males, boys, etc) in the center of the basement. Needless to say, I have become the Incredible Hulk. I came all the way to New Jersey to witness these retards jump around like orangutans as the DJ puts on a sped up Spongebob track? I'm sick of it. I COULDN'T CARE LESS HOW FAST A SINGLE NIGGA'S FEET CAN MOVE. A thousand other children crowd him with their cell phones out giving him a sense that he's in the spotlight. FAGS... boys chanting "Get your light feet goin'..." Tragic. I'm coming out with a track called "Get your slave feet going" and making a video of Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth doing the toe-wop and the chicken noodle soup dance then putting it on YouTube. 6 million views in the first 12 hours. And if I get Samuel L. Jackson to two step and then pop and lock in a full Adidas sweatsuit with a fur hat and push a broom like Turbo in the background, it will be featured as the "new joint" on BET's 106 & Park and then instantly move to the number one spot; consequently, Soulja Boy will later announce this to be named "Best Video" at the BET Awards.
FUCK YOU NEW JERSEY!! (Except for you Joe Budden... You, my friend, have my stamp of approval.) I really am ashamed of my home state some times...
BITCH ASS NEW JERSEY...
The fact that it is called the "Garden State" when there are clearly no real gardens around is asinine. In actuality, this ho ass state has more landfills than gardens, thus I vote we change the name to the "Smells like Giraffe Ass State." Every time that I am forced to enter this wretched state there is always some kind of construction going on where trees are being demolished and mini malls are being put up. I see no flowers. Just weeds. Daffodils. What type of struggle-garden is this? You know we could just call Jersey the Turnpike State. Because that's all people really need to use it for. New Jersey is just a state that needs to be passed through while on a road trip to your REAL destination. And what's worse is that you always have to pay a toll to get OUT of New Jersey...never to get in. It's like they're trying to trap you. Fury ensues every time I pay three cash plus the cost of gas just to get across the bridge to get to Philadelphia. I wonder if anyone has ended up stranded in New Jersey because they didn't have the three singles to cross the bridge. I've decided that I need to build an arc. Yes, I said it...AN ARC: to rescue all that are stuck in bitch ass New Jersey and are sick and tired of paying the toll for the bridge. Another thing: people from Jersey are not tough. I'm sick of people from Jersey bragging that they harbor the most dangerous city in America. Yes, Camden may have been ranked the most dangerous city in America in both 2004 and 2005. However in 2005, Money magazine ranked Moorestown (a city located only 10 miles away from Camden) as the number one place to live in America. HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT WORK? The best place to live in America is a 19 minute drive from the worst place to live in America. Unbelievable. It's like Mr. Rogers living next door to Oscar the Grouch and he doesn't give two steaming shits that Oscar lives in a trashcan. He just continues to sing as he laces up his Chucks so he can take the trash out and pour last nights leftovers upon Oscar's face. "Eh...you live in a trash can. You tryna tell me you're not hungry?" Damn you Rogers...keep pouring.
Some say that Jersey should be divided into North and South Jersey. For what? Because they can't make up their mind on which sports team to like? No, we will not divide New Jersey in half because it's bitch ass cannot make up it's mind. They have the New Jersey Nets, why are they not satisfied? Why must they become fans of other state's teams? OWN YOUR BITCH ASS STATE. If it's that serious we could simply cut it in half and add South Jersey to Pennsylvania and North Jersey to New York. Then the residents of North Jersey will actually have a legitimate reason to be happy the Giants won the Super Bowl and the residents of South Jersey can fully experience the agitation caused by the 76ers' lack of talent and horrendous management...
STORY TIME:
I have a friend who lives in this state of bitch-ass-ness. Chaulky. On one random night while on summer vacation, I receive a phone call from Chalky who asks me why I never come home to visit. There are numerous reasons: (1) Dash does not drive a hybrid vehicle and having a man tell me that I owe $43 to fill up my tank may force me to wrap my arm around his neck and quickly peel off at 62 mph. (2) There is absolutely nothing to do in New Jersey besides go to Atlantic City or "go down the shore" (PS...grammatically, it should be "go down to the shore"), and (3) There are absolutely no competitive pick-up basketball games due to the fact that old sweaty men storm the local gyms immediately after work just to yank off their button down sweatpants revealing every support brace one can possibly have on his body, and rub their old wrinkly, slimy bodies against you as they attempt to play effective defense (no homo).
Well, on this night I happen to have nothing to do with my life and Chaulky suggested that I come down to this party that his friend is throwing. So I figure I might as well go down there, chill for a little bit, throw back some beers, knock down a female, and pass out for a little bit before I return to Philadelphia. So I make this trip down to Chaulky's humble suburban abode.
I get there around 10 o'clock and Chaulky answers the door fully dressed with keys in hand, and states, "Let's go, we're late". Red flag numeral uno... It's 10 o'clock; this would be the time where I'm usually just rolling out of bed to get ready for a party (unless of course I have already arrived at the party early to consume all of the alcohol in the building). But apparently this party started at 8 o' clock (...smh...) and it should be "popping" by now. I say whatever and we drive to the party. Upon arrival there is a group of about 15 dudes standing outside. Red flag number 2... It's 10:30 and there is a group of 15 males standing outside of a supposedly "popping" party. This would only mean that there must be a very small amount of females in attendance. Despite this red flag, I enter the house and instantly hear a Baltimore Club track flowing out of speakers in the basement. This deems one of two things: (1) There are females actually getting it in and working out downstairs, or (2) there's a circle with niggas Wu-Tang battling in the center. I go to investigate...
I enter the hottest basement in the nation and observe the party scene. Red flag number 3. Females are standing around and there is a circle of niggas (males, boys, etc) in the center of the basement. Needless to say, I have become the Incredible Hulk. I came all the way to New Jersey to witness these retards jump around like orangutans as the DJ puts on a sped up Spongebob track? I'm sick of it. I COULDN'T CARE LESS HOW FAST A SINGLE NIGGA'S FEET CAN MOVE. A thousand other children crowd him with their cell phones out giving him a sense that he's in the spotlight. FAGS... boys chanting "Get your light feet goin'..." Tragic. I'm coming out with a track called "Get your slave feet going" and making a video of Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth doing the toe-wop and the chicken noodle soup dance then putting it on YouTube. 6 million views in the first 12 hours. And if I get Samuel L. Jackson to two step and then pop and lock in a full Adidas sweatsuit with a fur hat and push a broom like Turbo in the background, it will be featured as the "new joint" on BET's 106 & Park and then instantly move to the number one spot; consequently, Soulja Boy will later announce this to be named "Best Video" at the BET Awards.
FUCK YOU NEW JERSEY!! (Except for you Joe Budden... You, my friend, have my stamp of approval.) I really am ashamed of my home state some times...
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3 comments:
I agree with you. "NEW" JERSEY! There is nothing NEW in New Jersey! You should call it the land that rose above sea level due to the level of trash underneath its surface. "America's Dumpster Pool!" aka New Jersey! LOLOL!
Maybe an earthquake will hit the East coast like the San Andres Fault in California, and New Jersey wuill float off from the United States. Shyt! NewJersians need to be secluded from normality which is the United States.
For thefirst time i actually agree with you,but this does not change ya status as a belgin butt smugler. Jersy is the seaspool of the U.S. I suggest we tie all the new born jersy babies to trees and beat them with 2 pound smoked turkey breast. But just so you know i still hate you I want to shoot you in ya femoral artery andwatch you bleed all over ya polo flip flops (oh im sorry beverly hills polo club)
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