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Jersey Girl

The guys and I are enjoying our annual summer trip to the Jersey shore.

Let me tell you.

I could so be a Jersey girl.

For starters, they don't pump gas. It's against the law. ( I just heard a collective "say whaa" from my Southern girlfriends). That's right,. Illegal. Men can't do either. The Garden State only allows full service gas stations with pleasant attendants who come to your car window, process your payment, and top your ride off with your go-go juice of choice: regular, unleaded, super. No more dribbling gas on your patent leathers. No more gassy fumes fouling up your rosy eau du toillette. And, praise the Lord, no more hair-tastrophies from high wind and humidity. You drive off looking as good as when you drove in. Sweeeeet.

And one more thing: The Texas temp was 102 when I left home. The high in Ocean Grove, New Jersey today was 82.

So yeah, I could roll with that.

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