fuck yeah, fist pump, high five

“Did she just say she wants a juicehead gorilla?” the beau asked, in reference to Snooki.1

“Yes. Yes, she did,” I replied.

“Fucking Jersey. At least they have a place where they can congregate,” he muttered.

Two years after everyone else first furrowed their brows and uttered WTF? at their television screens, we finally watched Jersey Shore for the first time. I told you I’m slow to adapt to pop culture. I will say this: that show boasts a very high number of people I would be horrified to actually meet in real life. Like, as in all of them. Clearly, I’m going to have to start recording it.

In much more timely news, I AM ON THE COVER OF THE FEBRUARY ISSUE OF ESQUIRE MAGAZINE!


Oh, her? Ignore that chick. I am talking about MY NAME!

This is huge. You don’t see many Lyns out there, guys. As evinced by some of my coworkers’ steadfast refusal to learn how to spell my forename. Whatever. My parents couldn’t afford two Ns, okay?

TRUE STORY: I physically leapt in the air when I saw this cover. I may have even shrieked in glee. I mean, picture me opening the door to a camera crew, a bouquet of flowers, and a giant check from Publisher’s Clearing House. Picture me holding the Vince Lombardi trophy, tears streaming down my cheeks, as I yelp joyously into the microphone, “I’m going to Disney World!” It was like that, but with a magazine cover instead. I was elated. Me and Lyn Decker, whoever she was, we were finally making solid advances towards casting off the oppressive yoke of totalitarian Lynn rule! Together, we were going to make the world safe for all one-ENNed Lyns everywhere.

It wasn’t until half an hour later, when I went online to look for an image of this cover to use in this blog post, that I noticed the “BROO” hanging out on the other side of this lady’s naked bod. Turns out her name is actually “Brooklyn.” That doesn’t fucking count as “Lyn.” I’m sorry. NO DICE.

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1 Wikipedia tells me Snooki and I were born on the VERY SAME DAY in different years, which clearly means that we have some kind of soul connection. Insert unfunny joke about my burgeoning bronzer addiction here.

17 Responses to “fuck yeah, fist pump, high five”

  1. you are f*cking brilliant. congrats on the cover, if you can just get that “lady” to move over a bit to uncover the rest of the “L” it’s perfect…
    i have yet to watch jersey shore…is it great content to make fun of for the night or a show you actually want to watch kind of thing? hm…

    • For me? It’s content to make fun of. I understand there are others who take it much more seriously, though…

    • I have tried to watch it because it seemed funny at first. However, I’ve never made it through an entire episode without wanting to cry. I’ve only attempted two episodes.

      This show can’t really have been on the air for two years. Say it isn’t true!

  2. I don’t have anything remotely interesting to add to this post, but I’m throwing out a comment to let you know that you made me laugh out loud. I’m glad my door was closed.

  3. You just asked me to ignore Brooklyn Decker, which is impossible, since she is one of my girl-crushes. Though I can see why your eyes were immediately drawn to her bum/your name and you lost all sense of comprehension after that. It is one fine bum and one fine name, after all.

    • I had never even heard of Brooklyn Decker! This was my first time laying eyes on her. I told you I was “behind” the times. Haw!

  4. So, I have not gotten into Jersey Shore (I say with smug superiority)… because I am OBSESSED with Jerseylicious, which is basically Jersey Shore IN A HAIR SALON. It is AMAAAAAAAAAAZING. And I was pretty sure it was totally fake, because no one is like that, right?

    And THEN. Last weekend we took a random trip to Atlantic City (I’d never been) and when we drove up at midnight we were greeted by a GAGGLE of Jersey girls pouring out of the casino in crotch-length minis, big hair, and six inch leopard-print platform heels. THEY ARE REAL. And I will say that seeing them all at 4 am at fat burger was worth the entire trip.

    (Someday I will make a comment on your blog that makes me seem classy. Apparently today is not that day.)

  5. Hahaha, this is awesome. 1. Because you are now sucked in to the ridiculousness that is Jersey Shore, and 2. Because you spell your name with one “n”. My fiancé’s name is Scot.. one “t”.. and his reasoning is that his parents were too poor to afford the extra “t” 😉

  6. You never fail to make my day.

  7. sorry she does not have your name! I have to say my heart dropped when I read this because I knew her name was Brooklyn and was nervous the post would end with you being psyched and someone in the comments section breaking it to you. her and her stupid perfect naked body are lame anyways. you know whats awesome? sharing a birthday with snooki.

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. tripledecker « another damn life - March 15, 2011

    […] named Brooklyn Decker even existed! Fortunately, the intense kinship I felt with her during the brief half hour I thought her name was Lyn Decker has forever seared her name indelibly into my squishy grey matter. This has helped, […]

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