I thought I missed home. Obviously, I miss my family. But I actually thought I missed little things about New Jersey, like the aggressive driving and the no-holds-barred attitudes. One of the things I missed the most was the night clubs.
That is, until I drove the 16 hours home and went to one.
Everything you see on “Jersey Shore” is real. The fist pumping, the spray tans, the insane amount of high poofs and Ed Hardy clothing is not just to pump up that show’s image, it’s life.
I went home and went out. I wore the sun dresses and flip-flops I have become accustomed to wearing when I visit Fat Moe’s or The Star. My hair was down and curly. It’s the beginning of June, so my tan isn’t rocking just yet. I couldn’t have been more out of place.
Apparently, I had forgotten my four-inch stilettos and another four inches of face makeup in Kentucky. I forgot to GTL, obviously. I forgot to dress like I was going to a movie premiere before I went out to a local bar.
I got compliments on my “new style” and my whiskey-flavored drink choice. Maybe, just maybe, I have adjusted to Kentucky more than I thought.
If you are out on a Saturday night, and you see the girl fist-pumping and begging for more Lil’ Wayne or Bon Jovi, pay no mind. You can take the girl out of New Jersey, but you can’t take the New Jersey out of the girl.
Contact Corianne Egan, a Paducah Sun staff writer, at 270-575-8652.
