Here's the Situation (6 page)

Whether you're working long hours behind a desk or fighting for your very survival in the unholy wild of the New Jersey wilderness, there's no excuse for letting your color fade. Your passenger-side mirror makes an ideal reflector to even out your tone under your chiseled jawline. As far as defacing your sweet ride, hey, if you want to make a protein-rich egg-white omelet, you've got to break a few organic eggs. Fortunately, New Jersey is a no-fault state, so when you get to The Shore, write down the number of the first license plate you see and report to your insurance carrier that their vehicle sideswiped you.

In the wild, it's unlikely that your mom will be there to do your laundry. Possible, but unlikely. To get your L did right while flying solo, wade into the nearest stream and scrub your wifebeater back and forth along your anatomical washboard. When you see the spectacular results, you'll wonder why you haven't been washing your threads this way all along.

If you need to repair a loose sequin on one of your fitted tees, have no fear. If you've gelled properly, you can remove a single hair from your dome and fold it over to create an emergency field needle. For thread, repurpose some from any garment you've worn more than once in the past year. You'll be back up and sparkle-fresh in no time.

With some string and a pair of fashion denims, you can MacGyver a respectable hair dryer from your Escalade's exhaust to get your blowout done right. As mentioned above, if you squeeze out the last drop of gel, hit the surplus pinesap for a hold that will stay firm through even the most hard-core partying.

A lot has been made about the fact that I wasn't born in New Jersey. Blah-blah-friggin-blah. By now, most people realize that Sitch pays no mind to the haters. Their noise rolls right off my muscular deltoids like water off a duck phone's back. Like I always say, if hating is your occupation, I got a full-time job for you. Yes, I was born in Staten Island and moved to The Jerz as a kid. The way I see it, that's just more of a good thing, cementing my dual citizenship in two of the major guido capitals of the world. Salud!

The Jersey Shore is located at the heart of what's known as The Guido Belt. This is a region that stretches from Northern New Jersey (extending south along its coastline), through select boroughs of Metropolitan New York, to all of western Long Island. It also includes South Philly, parts of Baltimore, and Pauly D's Providence, Rhode Island.

Fellow warriors, your share house is your castle. That's where we prep for our battles at the club and that's where all our hot tubbing, pounding, and, for those special ladies, smooshing will happen after hours. Before hitting the scene, you're going to want to get in some pregame. Whether your drink of choice is Ron-Ron Juice or simple vodka tonics, you want to be well-lubricated by the time you leave the share. Think of pregaming as putting gas into a Ferrari before tearing off down the Parkway.

As you're getting your drink on, hit up some last-minute biceps curls so your guns are at maximum vascularity. Make sure your fade is tight and every hair on your head has been put into the perfect position and held there forevermore with Ice Spiker. And, of course, save the shaving for last. Your share house should have copious mirrors so that you can secure views of yourself from all conceivable angles. You need be sure you look mint and feel fresh to death for what glorious adventures await.

A rookie mistake when pregaming is to wear your club shirt while doing so. While you're sitting on the couch, you're putting creases in your freshly pressed tee, and you're running the risk of spilling a beverage on yourself. That's not fresh. So veterans know that there's The Shirt, and there's The Shirt Before the Shirt. This is a wifebeater you wear while pregaming. When it's time to hit the club, you put your fresh to death T-shirt on over your wifebeater, and then you roll. Simple as that, dawg.

 

S
o why is it so important to get in your GTL? Because GTL puts you in your best possible position to creep. And what is creeping? It's presenting yourself to females in such a way that smooshing follows soon thereafter. Simply put, to live is to creep. And vice versa.

Now, chicks may object that bros simply look at them as creeping targets. But chicks like being crept on. Sure, they'll tell you that they go to clubs simply to dance and have fun with friends. But take it from The Sitch, single people are at the club for one reason and one reason only: to not be single anymore. Even if it's just for that night.

So I creep.

The primary environment for creeping is a club—preferably down the Jersey Shore. Below are all the secrets you need for a successful night. The key is to not rush it. You need to pick a strategic spot in the club, display moves on the dance floor, and imbibe heavily. Then and only then are you ready to crush it.

Once through the door, scan for chicks who are clearly checking out your group and vibing on your collective style. That's where you'll be best served when focusing your initial efforts. But be careful when scanning
only
for hotness. Do this at your own peril. You may be severely limiting your selection in the long run. You want to look not just for hot girls but also for a large number of girls relative to the amount of gorilla juiceheads. I love sausage, but only when served with a side of my mom's peppers and onions. A sausage fest in a club is a no-go.

I typically like to set up a base of operations in the corner of a club—optimally with a table to hold me and my team members' Red Bull and vodkas—so that I can get the lay of the land. In my crew, I'm both Team Leader and in charge of advanced reconnaissance. I usually walk a few laps around the club on scouting missions, checking out the available females, and lay the groundwork for developing situations. Then, in conference with my team, we decide whether we're headed east, west, or straight up the gut. When the attack plan is set, we launch a calculated assault on the club zone where the hot chick-to-dude ratio is clearly in our favor.

We shall creep in the gym and at the tanning salon. We shall creep with growing
confidence and a growing vibe. We shall avoid grenades, whatever the cost may be.
We shall creep on the beaches and the boardwalk. We shall creep in da club, at the
bar, on the dance floor, and in the general area of the DJ. We shall never surrender.