Cape May, Same Old Jersey

What a wonderful place New Jersey is, and I'm not being facetious. I really think it's a well-camouflaged paradise. There's cheap beer, shirtless guys, clean beaches and, my favorite, a nightly flag-lowering ceremony (replete with Bermuda shorts and Kate Smith). People warn me about the New Jersey water, but water tastes pretty much the same anywhere you go. Those who claim otherwise need to start drinking less boring stuff.

The only problem with this vacation (which I've taken with my family every year since I was at least 10) is that my beloved cousin Jess is in France. I'm not saying I'm jealous of her - France is great but requires me to be flexible about learning new things, which I just can't do - but she is my saving grace each year down the shore. What am I supposed to do with myself without a rigid cool-person schedule to follow? So far I've mooched off my family's beer supply and drove 15 minutes to the nearest Starbucks, located in a promising shopping center next to a Sonic. Most of my cousins (who are all over 30) are recovering alcoholics, so it's not like we can go out on the town one of these nights. One of them suggested an 8:00 showing of "Operation" tomorrow night, produced by the local Cape May theater company. I said I'd go, but I'm not sure I'll survive.

Is it too desperate to go to a bar by myself and pretend I came to watch the Phillies game? Knowing me, I'd go on a night when the Phillies aren't playing and would end up having to watch The Bachelorette.

REMINDER: IT'S SHARK WEEK! More on that later, I think.

Finally, I overheard one of the best things ever in the history of eavesdropping: I was walking along the boardwalk (read: elevated walkway) in search of postcards when a group of teenage ruffians walked by. One of them turned to his two friends and asked, "Hey guys, how do you get semen off your pants?" I didn't hear their answer, but now I'm making it my special mission to find out once and for all.