New Joisey

Not my high school yearbook photo

I have always been perfectly happy to be from New Jersey. It's everyone's favorite place to make fun of, but I have no embarrassment about the Garden State. The pollution, the accents, the mafia - none are as prevalent as people from lesser states (I'm talking to you, Massachusetts) would have you believe. I've always maintained that my home state is as nothing like the stereotypes you hear, and is as clean, classy, and intellectual as any other place.

Until now. Thanks to the Real Housewives of New Jersey and Jersey Shore, myths have been affirmed rather than dispelled. Tanning, Cadillac Escalades, and man-jewelry abound. Big hair is seemingly a prerequisite, and the ladies would not be caught dead without their acrylic nails. And the Jersey Girls like me – pale skinned, wearing cardigans and pearls, and owner of nothing leopard printed – are nowhere to be found. I fear that people may start to think that what they see on these shows is typical, when it's far from the Jersey norm.

To be truthful, I am an avid watcher of both of these shows. I try to not watch in protest of their state-ist profiling. But I cannot turn away. For me, these subjects are as foreign as they are to anyone else. Why didn't I have any friends growing up whose homes looked like casinos? Why don't I have any girlfriends who flip tables? And where oh where was The Situation when I was in high school?

P.S. While these shows are obvious webs of exaggeration and lies intended to destroy the reputation of the greatest state in the world, I am here to tell you that the upcoming Boston version of Jersey Shore – called WICKED SUMMAH! – will no doubt be an entirely accurate portrait of the people I see every day in Massachusetts.