When in Joyzee…

Once upon a time I visited a foreign land far, far away…

In this land existed an alien life form; a kind of which I’ve never before seen. Words couldn’t describe my confusion. These things…these creatures—I just didn’t understand. They were tan, they were buff, they wore dog tags, they claimed to be distant cousins with Al Pacino, they talked about the Yankees and Gold’s Gym, they gelled their hair, they took their shirts off a staggering number of times, they rubbed oil all over themselves at the beach, they acted like they were from New York, they bragged about how their Uncle Tonys were asked to audition for The Sopranos, they flexed more than they breathed, they talked funny, they were a new type of species all on their own; they were the guidos of New Jersey. They had crawled out from their Italian flag patterned bedspreads and headed 400 miles south where I was, in the Outerbanks of North Carolina.

Now for all of you less informed readers, according to the Urban Dictionary, a guido is this: A sad pathetic excuse for a male; not necessarily of Italian descent, but most likely; usually native to the New York/New Jersey Tri-State area.

WARDROBE: tight zipper shirts, tracksuits, designer jeans, fuzzy kangol hats, tiny hoop earrings, fake gold chains, and related Euro-trash garb and tacky cheese-wear.

NATURAL HABITAT: Known to frequent Tri-State area malls looking for club gear to waste their week’s pay on (most likely spotted shopping at “Bang Bang” in Staten Island). During the day when not at their food delivery, telemarketting, or construction job, can be located at their local gym tanning or lifting weights. Can be found nightly at mainstream danceclubs they read about online (SF, Webster Hall, Etc.). Most notable for cruising the Jersey shore in an old car (Honda, Mustang, etc.) which has been tinted, painted and sports $1,000-$3,000 rims in a feeble attempt to look like new. Guido cars usually have a boomin’ system through which cheesy music like freestyle, commercial club/trance and hip-hop is loudly blasted.

GENETIC LINKS: Directly related to modern day urban-guidos. Urban-guidos are white males who once exhibited the traits referenced above, but have now instead opted to keep it unreal, with wardrobes consisting of clothes from labels like FUBU and Rocawear which they bought on sale at Macy’s. These individuals still listen to the same music and drive the same type of car as their predecessor; it is usually just their choice of attire and use of slang and poor speech skills that differentiate them from the classic guido. Most guidos are distrusting of non-whites despite the fact some of their attire and music can be traced to non-white origins.

PASSTIMES/RECREATIONAL ACTIVITIES: Guidos enjoy beating up others of the male species, assisted by a group of 5-10 guido friends backing them up. Additionally, they enjoy displaying their lack of rhythm by dancing poorly in the middle of a club’s dance floor while non-guidos look on in disbelief as they fist pump.

While a guidette is this: The female counterpart to the “Guido” specimen. Exclusive to North America, these creatures are usually of Italian-American decsent. A Guidette can be recognized by her orange skin color, similar to that of the common tangerine, and their either very light or very dark hair. Guidettes have an overly sexual demeanor, and will often emit high pitch shrieks to attract mates. A creature of habit, the Guidette will spend an excessive amount of time on her appearance, and will usually prefer to don very light lipstick by brands such as Ed Hardy, BeBe and Juicy Couture. Scientists believe they are very tolerant to chemical exposure, as Guidettes will use 3-4 cannisters of hairspray in one day alone.

I’ve visited North Carolina the past couple of summers for weeks at a time with a friend who has a beach house (holla at cha’ girl Chansen). We were endlessly bombarded by a variety Jersey characters. Don’t believe me? See for yourself:

**NOTE: THESE PHOTOS HAVE NOT BEEN ALTERED OR RETOUCHED

This is Dave in the Alpha Male pose. He resided across the street from our humble beach abode and we became vacation friends over time. We discovered he was a personal trainer, his grandma gave him those dog tags, and he likes meatball sandwiches. His number still sits in my cell phone contacts as “Joyzee Boy Dave.”  He would want me to remind you that he is Italian as well.

And that’s just a sneak-shot of a Joyzee grandma at her finest.

Anyway, my days basking along the Outerbanks were long before the days of MTV’s Jersey Shore, but thanks to Jersey Shore the guido-culture is officially a phenomenon and I don’t have to feel bad about hanging out with Joyzee kids last summer. If you’ve been living under a rock all winter, this is what Jersey Shore is (and if you just want to laugh your face off, you should watch as well):

I’m addicted to tasteless, poor quality, reality television. I’ll be the first to admit it. But Jersey Shore just touched me on a whole new level. When I saw the commercials for it back in November, I knew that my life would forever be changed. The show premiered to a lackluster 1.4 million viewers, but after a season of fist-pumping, hair gel, techno music, hittin’ the bar (or in Joyzee, “the ba”), Escalades, and boardwalk assaults, the season finale worked its way up to 4.8 million, setting an all-time series record. Just take a look at these tacky ballas:

Speaking of the finale, I legitimately got teary eyed. I can’t believe it’s over. Jersey Shore was my better half. And now its reruns are only half of my better half.

I fantasize about season 2.

Despite the fact that all the guido roommates realize they’re currently MTV’s gold mine and are trying to gouge the network for some major pay raises. Whatever. I don’t really care. As long as they keep The Hills from invading my TiVo its all good.

Anyway, I love you Jersey Shore. Emmys anyone?

Peace, love, and Snookie

P.S. I don’t know who has the New Jersey license plates on the Honda Pilot in the parking lot, but I consider swooping them every time I walk by your car. I think they would look nice on my car. People would be jealous of me.

Advertisement