Actually, if you've ever watched The Sopranos, that's pretty much everything you need to know about how most of the country thinks of North/Central Jersey. That and pollution. (In the mid-eighties or so, some hypodermic needles started washing up on the Jersey shore.) I totally confused many of my friends in college by insisting that NJ corn and tomatoes were better than the ones from the rest of the country -- they had no idea anyone was growing anything there.

I love when the b.org comes round to our important recurring conversations like this. I was just thinking (on about hour eight of twenty-four on my drive) what a good band name Gerund would be. And their first album could be Gerund: the Running.

More fun NJ facts: our governor resigned several years ago, announcing "My truth is that I am a gay American." The real reason for the resignation, though, was that his Israeli boyfriend -- who he had put onto his port security counsel even though he had no real training beyond the standard few years of army experience, and couldn't even get security clearance because he wasn't an American citizen -- was about to file a sexual harassment suit.

His wife stood by him during that speech, but then it became a very ugly divorce. There was one memorable instance where his wife said she'd had no idea that he was gay, and he responded that she had known, because she had participated in threesomes with him and another man.

He's now studying to become an Episcopal priest.

Fay, I love you. I have marked your awesome post. I split a gut with your highly educated argument (shit happens).

Wow, I didn't intend to spark a debate on Jersey. Just wanted to put out there what I learned. As a NYer, we often looked down our noses at Jersey. My favorite joke being "even the Statue of Liberty has turned her back on Jersey" (she faces Europe to greet the immigrants sailing into the harbor). But in Jersey's defense, the needles on the shore was found to come from garbage barges coming from NY.

As a NYer, we often looked down our noses at Jersey. My favorite joke being "even the Statue of Liberty has turned her back on Jersey"

Heh. NJers tell the same joke. I don't think anyone's ever been all "Yay NJ! We're great!" More "Yay NJ! We're freaks and proud of it!"

I mean, most lists I've seen outside of school of NJ stuff to be proud of have included the Jersey Devil (mythical creature, supposedly a changeling from the thirteenth child of a family back in the 1700s, said the haunt the Pine Barrens), Traction Park (actually called Action Park, a water park that had horribly dangerous rides, was staffed mostly by 16- and 17-year-olds, and served alcohol), and Jimmy Hoffa's body (supposedly buried under Giants Stadium.)

(OK, fine. In school we learned about Molly Pitcher and Walt Whitman and Washington crossing the Delaware and a bunch of stuff like that. But who needs that when you've got the Lindberg baby?)

Don't forget Jersey stealing Ben Franklins son and making him Govenor, and a super Red Lobster Back breaking poor Bens heart.

Hey, I passed a parenting milestone today!

...dealing with an epic bout of toddler puking at the gas station all over her carseat, dress, jacket and Plex's head. So, instead of church, we ran to the gas station bathroom (Matilda sobbing all the way, mostly in a puke panic -- this was her first time -- but also because she was worried about Plex), then Target when the diaper bag gave up a clean pair of pants but only a small thin top and no socks, then Papou's house to strip the car seat down to its bones, wash everything fabricky, and Clorox/Febreze the living hell out of everything else.

While we were at it, the rest of the car got a good going over as well, so it's now about as ready to be sold to some hapless moron lucky Craigslister as it'll ever be.

Matilda seemed fine once she got over the shock of throwing up and once I'd caved and replaced her thin little shirt with the ass-ugly hoodie with which she'd inexplicably fallen in love. The two casualties were her naptime (in all the excitement, she didn't let herself conk out until we were in the car on the way home at 3) and Plex's face, which it turns out cannot go through even a gentle wash cycle. I fixed him with a Sharpie, though, and she seemed satisfied.

Is it too early to pour myself a drink? Or should I try to unwind by going back to re-read today's grammar loveliness, savoring all the spicy brains on display until it's 5 o'clock proper?

DRINK!

JZ, a drink to accompany the re-reading of today's posts is the best plan. Trust me on this. Not early at all. Almost dark where you are.

eta: or what my friend Perkins said so much more succinctly.

drink and read is the side I am on