Grandma and Grandpa

An 85-year-old couple had  been married for 60 years.  Though they were far from rich,  they managed to get by because they watched their  pennies.

Though not young,  they were both in very good health, largely due to the wife’s  insistence on healthy foods and exercise for the last  decade.
One day their good health didn’t help when they  went on a rare vacation and their plane crashed, sending them  off to Heaven. 
They reached the  Pearly Gates and Saint Peter escorted them inside.  He took  them to a beautiful mansion furnished in gold and fine silks  with a fully stocked kitchen and a waterfall in the master  bath.  A maid could be seen hanging their favorite clothes  in the closet.
       They gasped in  astonishment when he said, “Welcome to Heaven.  This will  be your home now.”

The old man asked  Peter how much all this was going to cost.  “Why, nothing,”  Peter replied, “Remember, this is your reward in  Heaven.”
  The old man looked out the  window and right there he saw a championship golf course, finer  and more beautiful than any ever built on  Earth.
  “What are the greens  fees?” grumbled the old man.
“This is heaven,” St.  Peter replied. “You play for free, every  day….” 
Next they went to the  clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch with every imaginable  cuisine laid out before them from seafood to steaks to exotic  deserts, free flowing  beverages.
  “Don’t even ask,” said St.  Peter to the man.  “This is Heaven, it is all free for you  to enjoy.”
  The old man looked around  and glanced nervously at his  wife.
  “Well, where are the low  fat and low cholesterol foods and the decaffeinated tea?” he  asked.
“That’s the best  part,” St. Peter replied. “You can eat and drink as much as  you like of whatever you like and you will never get fat or  sick.  This is Heaven!’

The old man pushed,  “No gym to work out at?”
“Not unless you want to,” was  the answer.
“No testing my sugar or blood pressure  or…”
“Never again.   All you do here is enjoy yourself.”
The old man glared at  his wife and said, “You and your f**king bran flakes.  We  could have been here 10 years ago!”


I have big hair and oversized sunglasses.
I drink Corona from the bottle, or Absolut straight up.
I spend my weekends at the mall, My summers down the shore,
And late nights in a diner, with a plate of cheese fries.
I know which exits are which, and that there’s no decent beaches north of 100.
I have Springsteen on my I-pod and, I think Bon Jovi still looks hot in leather pants.

I spent prom weekend in Seaside, and many a summer on LBI.

I know the mob isn’t just on the Sopranos.
I sure as hell don’t pump my own gas.

I think if you talk shit about our state, you should get the hell off our beaches.
I know better than to drive through Camden, and that there are nice areas of Elizabeth.

I know what good pizza & good bagels taste like,
I eat Boardwalk fries, zeppoles, & Taylor ham on a hard roll.  (yum!)
I’ve been on every coaster at 6 Flags.
I speak my mind and don’t care what people think.
I’ll try anything once, twice if I like it.
I know how to have a good time.

I know that sometimes a kiss is just a kiss, but sometimes it’s so much more.
When I fall, I fall hard. But I can bounce back just as quick.
I drive too fast, I drink too much. I play my stereo too loud,
I love to feel the wind in my hair, and the sand between my toes.

I know there’s no place on Earth quite like New Jersey.
And that no matter where life takes me, this will always be home.

You’ve been seriously injured at Action Park .
You know that the only people who call it “Joisey” are from New York
(usually The Bronx) or Texas .
You don’t think of citrus when people mention “The Oranges.”
You know that it’s called “Great Adventure,” not “Six Flags.”
You’ve ordered a hard roll with butter for breakfast.

You’ve known the way to Seaside Heights since you were seven.
You’ve eaten at a diner, when you were stoned or drunk, at 3 am.

Whenever you park, there’s a Camaro within three spots of you.
You remember that the “Two Guys” were from Harrison.
You know that the state isn’t one big oil refinery.

At least three people in your family still love Bruce Springsteen, and
you know what town Jon Bon Jovi is from.
You know what a “jug handle” is.

If you were born and raised in New Jersey, it was either North Jersey,
Central Jersey or South Jersey.

You say the words “water”, “coffee”, “dog” and “whatever”, like this
“wadder”, “cawfee”, “dawg” and “wadever”.

You know you’re from New Jersey, when you know that you’re better
than everyone else

You know that a WaWa is a convenience store.

You know that the state isn’t all farmland.
You know that there are no “beaches” in New Jersey – there’s “The Shore,”
and you know that the road to the shore is “The Parkway” not
“The Garden State Highway.”

You know that “Piney” isn’t referring to a tree.

Even your school cafeteria made good Italian subs, and, you call it a
“sub” not a “submarine sandwich” or worse yet, a “hoagy” or a “hero.”
You remember the song from the Palisades Park commercials..
You know how to properly negotiate a Circle.
You knew that the last question had to do with driving.

You know that “Acme” is an actual store, not just a Warner Bros creation.
You know that this is the only “New…” state that doesn’t require
 “New” to identify it (like, try …Mexico, ….York, …Hampshire (doesn’t work, does it?)

You know how to translate this conversation: “Jeet yet?” “No, Jew?”
You only go to New York City for day trips, and you only call it “The City..”

You know that a “White Castle” is the name of BOTH a fast food chain
AND a fast food sandwich.
 You consider a corned beef sandwich with lettuce and mayo a sacrilege.
In the 80’s you wore your hair REALLY high.
 You don’t think “What exit” (do you live near?) is very funny.

You know that the real first “strip shopping center” in the country is
Route 22.

You know that people from 609 area code are “a little different.”
You know that no respectable New Jerseyan goes to Princeton – that’s
for out-of-staters.

The Jets-Giants game has started fights at your school or local bar.
You live within 20 minutes of at least three different malls.
You can see the Manhattan skyline from some part of your town.
You refer to all highways and interstates by their numbers.

Every year, you had at least one kid in your class named Tony.
You know where every “clip” shown in the Sopranos opening credits is.
You’ve gotten on the wrong highway trying to get out of Willowbrook Mall.

You’ve eaten a Boardwalk cheesesteak with vinegar fries.
You have a favorite Atlantic City casino.

You start planning for Memorial Day weekend in February.
 And finally…

You’ve never pumped your own gas.

Meeting a Mate on Facebook

By DAN GOOD Press of AC, Staff Writer | Posted: Saturday, February 13, 2010 |

So, a friend offers to set you up on a blind date.

Ugh, you think. Mid-20s, and you’re relying on handouts to keep your fragile love life from turning to dust.

“She’s cute and single if you want to meet her,” your friend says.

The skeptic in you immediately, internally responds: If she’s cute and single, why doesn’t she have a boyfriend?

But then you imagine this mystery woman asking the same question about you, and you shift from skeptic to optimist, wanting to find out just how cute she really is.

So you log on to the social-networking site Facebook, type in a foreign name, and see how far privacy controls will allow you to advance on the information front. Her page features a picture, and she’s all bright eyes and brown hair. The page also includes comments written by her and some friends, and you skim through the comments to make sure she doesn’t seem like a mass murderer.

Cute? Yes.

Mass murderer? Doubtful.

You look at the “Add as Friend” tab at the top of the page and consider sending her a Facebook friend request. No, you hold back on the friend request. Friendship can wait.

Instead you send her a private note, just for her eyes, just to say hello. Chuckle about the mutual friend trying to set you up. Tell her it would be nice to meet in person.

And then you wait for a response, hoping the Web-snooping won’t curse your romantic fortune.

*   *   *

Welcome to the dating world of twentysomethings, 2010-style. The intended outcomes are the same, but the tools are different now.

Instead of asking your mutual friend how cute she is, you can find out for yourself. And instead of entering a relationship privately and quietly, you tell the Web world about it.

A January report on social media by digital marketing publisher Econsultancy said 99 percent of U.S. Web users ages 18 to 24 have a profile on social networking sites such as Facebook, Twitter and MySpace.

The Gen-Y crowd uses social networking sites to catch up with friends and family, sure. But users also rely on social networks to fuel their romantic endeavors. They click through pictures of that hottie at work, read about the best boyfriend ever and pry into things they shouldn’t know about — willing people to love their online selves, or the lives they want others to think they live.

*   *   *

If you want to find out about Corry Magrini’s relationship, read her Twitter page.

The Manahawkin, Ocean County, native and Richard Stockton College student presses the keys on her pink Blackberry cell phone, and those words appear for anyone to see — including that guy from class with a crush on her; or her boyfriend; or her boyfriend’s parents …

“I know that people look at my page, and I think it’s funny,” Magrini, 21, said.

Since making her first tweet in April, Magrini has posted to her page more than 200 times. Magrini’s relationship is one of her main posting topics. She writes on Twitter about dates and baking cookies and Mike, the “best boyfriend ever.”

And the male of the species being “annoying as hell.”

Feb. 1, she went out to dinner with Michael. She posted that info with a <3 next to it, expressing her love for her boyfriend in thumb taps and symbols.

 *   *   *

This social networking thing has helped some people find love.

The group “we met on facebook !!!!” has 112 members, with members posting romantic stories about chance online meet-ups and fairy tale moments. An Ontario, Canada, man named Steven Grant wrote on the group’s page, “I owe it all to facebook, cause with out facebook I would have never met my true love my best friend and my soul mate.”

Some of the “we met on facebook !!!!” crowd met their significant others using Facebook dating applications such as “Are You Interested?” which presents a slideshow of single users, along with the options Yes (anonymous), Yes (let them know) and Skip.

Skip …

Skip …

Skip …

When you try to apply for “Are You Interested?” and type in Atlantic City, Facebook tells you to enter a valid or larger city.

So you type in Philadelphia, and the program spits you results from Harrisburg and Lancaster and Pittsburgh, which doesn’t help shore dwellers much, given that some of these people live 10 hours away by car.

*   *   *

Alberto Salazar, 22, a senior criminal justice major at Stockton, has about 1,300 Facebook friends, and those friends know him as … Berto Cataztrophe. That’s his Facebook name. The alter-ego highlights Salazar’s fun-loving, club-going ways.

Facebook allows its users to publish their romantic aspirations, so the single Salazar — ahem, Berto Cataztrophe — lists that he’s looking for friendship from the ladies, as well as “whatever I can get,” which means, exactly … ?

Some users view “whatever I can get” as a sign of desperation. Or a declaration of diminishing standards.

Or maybe it’s a joke.

When Salazar is ready to enter a relationship, he says he won’t hesitate to publish his off-the-market moves.

“I would change the status, but I wouldn’t list who I was dating,” Salazar said. He thinks some things deserve to stay private.

When you ask Salazar if he uses Facebook to sift through pictures of the ladies, he recoils.

“I use Facebook to stay in touch with people, but not to stalk anybody,” he says.

Thirteen hundred friends and he didn’t once find himself wandering onto a strange, new page, wondering whatever he could get?

Nah, he says. And you move onto a new topic.

*   *   *

Facebook users have the option of announcing their relationship status, with the choices being: single, in a relationship, engaged, married, it’s complicated, in an open relationship and widowed.

But can Facebook change the way people approach romance?

Angelo D’Alessandro and Meaghan McGoldrick think so. The Vineland, Cumberland County, couple (he’s 26, she’s 24) started dating last year. At the time, they worried that online networking could muddle their feelings for each other.

“Facebook starts problems with relationships,” D’Alessandro said. “Ex-boyfriends and girlfriends can re-enter the mix, and other people can hit on you or try to break you up.”

Facebook offers exes an unfiltered view into the day-to-day menagerie — the “I love you” messages, the pictures of the lovebirds kissing on their three-month anniversary, the moody wall posts that hint at a fight.

So D’Alessandro and McGoldrick limited their activity. He mostly plays a video game application called Mafia Wars that allows the user to run a crime family. She posts about Bubba the dog and finding money in the washer.

And on Jan. 12, they had something beyond Bubba and loose change to write about.

Meaghan went from being “in a relationship” to “engaged.”

On a recent weekend, the couple held hands, walking through the mall, filling the gaps between each other’s fingers. Yeah, you can do that with fingers and thumbs, too.


By the time you read through this YOU WILL UNDERSTAND

“TANJOOBERRYMUTTS”…and be ready for China .


In order to continue getting-by in China , we need to learn English the

way it is spoken……………………


Practice by reading the following conversation until you are able to

understand the term “TANJOOBERRYMUTTS”.


With a little patience, you’ll be able to fit right in.


Now, here goes…

The following is a telephonic exchange between maybe you as a hotel

guest and room-service today…….


Room Service : “Morrin. Roon sirbees.”


Guest : “Sorry, I thought I dialed room-service.”


Room Service: ” Rye . Roon sirbees…morrin! Joowish to oddor sunteen???”


Guest: “Uh….. Yes, I’d like to order bacon and eggs.”


Room Service: “Ow ulai den?”


Guest: “…..What??”


Room Service: “Ow ulai den?!?…. Pryed, boyud, pochd?”


Guest: “Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry.. Scrambled, please.”


Room Service: “Ow ulai dee bayken ? Creepse?”


Guest: “Crisp will be fine.”


Room Service: “Hokay. An sahn toes?”


Guest: “What?”


Room Service: “An toes. ulai sahn toes?”


Guest: “I…. Don’t think so..”


RoomService: “No?  Udo wan sahn toes???”


Guest: “I feel really bad about this, but I don’t know what ‘udo wan

sahn toes’ means.”


RoomService: “Toes! Toes!…Why Uoo don wan toes? Ow bow Anglish

moppin we botter?”


Guest: “Oh, English muffin! !! I’ve got it! You were saying ‘toast’…

Fine…Yes, an English muffin will be fine.”


RoomService: “We botter?”


Guest: “No, just put the botter on the side.”


RoomService: “Wad?!?”


Guest: “I mean butter… Just put the butter on the side.”


RoomService: “Copy?”


Guest: “Excuse me?”


RoomService: “Copy…tea..meel?”


Guest: “Yes. Coffee, please… And that’s everything.”


RoomService: “One Minnie. Scramah egg, creepse bayken , Anglish moppin,

we botter on sigh and copy … Rye ??”


Guest: “Whatever you say.”


RoomService: “Tanjooberrymutts.”


Guest: “You’re welcome”



Remember I said “By the time you read through this YOU WILL UNDERSTAND

‘TANJOOBERRYMUTTS’ …….and you do, don’t you!  🙂  🙂

What is on the 13th Floor?