Jersey shore trashiness somehow is more endearing when it’s 15 years old, and when everyone and everything in it basically looks like MY CHILDHOOD. Sort of. 

Also: that girl with the shoulders cut out of her button down shirt talking about how she beat up some bitches and then screaming for someone when the public phone rings since, like, calling the boardwalk phones was apparently a way to reach people who might be hanging out there in pre-cellphone days? I know she’s probably, like, painting nails in Bayonne or Nutley or something these days, but seriously, I need that shirt.  [Thanks Heidi for the link.]