Never Fall In Love On The Jersey Shore

So I got in the car the other day and before I could get my iPod playing, I heard a magical little promo on 99.3 KISS FM. Jersey Shore Party. West Shore Hardware Bar. I could scarcely contain my excitement. The muscled-up, liquored-up, tanned-up, fist-pumping traveling carnival that is the cast of MTV's "Jersey Shore" coming to our little corner of the world? Amazing. Unfortunately, when it comes to the Downtown After Dark Bars things aren't always as they seem, so there was a moment that I feared it was just going to be a lame theme party. As it turns out, it might as well be. There will be one cast member on hand. No, not Pauly D, not The Situation, not Snooki/Snickers/Snicks.

They booked Angelina. Ange-frickin-lina. Senorita trashbags herself. Of all of the disappointments, this is the disappointingest.

I wanted to beat up the beat to tunes spun by DJ Paulie Delvecchio. I wanted to be drunk under the table by J-Wowww and then watch her pummel someone who looked at her the wrong way. I wanted to give Vinny a bro hug, see Ronnie put someone to sleep in a sequined T-shirt and watch Sammi Sweetheart pout about something dumb. I wanted to see The Situation creep on some of Central PA’s finest. Hell, I just wanted to give Snooki a hug. Instead we get Angelina. The self-proclaimed Kim Kardashian of Staten Island only without a sex tape. I hope she doesn’t think Harrisburg is beneath her. Remember, she’s a bartender, she does, like, great things.

Calling this a Jersey Shore party is like hosting a party in 1965, telling people the Beatles will be on hand and then delivering Pete Best. It’s like showing up to see the Jackson 5 and getting a Tito solo show. It’s like promising the cast of Ocean’s 11 when you’ve only got the little dude that played Yen. Weak sauce. It makes me so angry I feel like eating ham and drinking water.