Who’s Da Mooch Now, Bay-beeeeee

I wanted to be fancy a couple weekends ago, so Bobby booked us a table at the fancy brunch at Gulfstream Park so we could watch the simulcast of the Kentucky Derby while stuffing our faces with brunch food, the likes of which left me so full that I had to be rolled out of the parking lot afterwards and shot.

Okay, maybe not shot.  I mean, I complained like I had been shot, my abdomen riddled with BBQ brisket and mashed potato buckshot.

We were seated next to a large party of three tables of people who were already drunk when we got there, which is fine, except that they were already drunk and conducting themselves as the entire cast of The Jersey Shore.

In that they were clearly from New Jersey.

In a bad way.

That’s an inside Florida joke, by the way.  If you live in Florida, then 97% of the people you encounter from New Jersey are considered to be from New Jersey “in a bad way”.  It’s probably all the screaming, demanding, snatching things off store shelves, ramming into you with their shopping carts, arguing with every cashier, server, valet parking attendant, making store clerks cry and then bragging about it.  It’s a thing they’re kind of known for here.

I had a neighbor from New Jersey for years who threatened to kill me on a weekly basis for any number of reasons he’d invented, and always included “You know I’m from Jersey, honey?!” as part of his threats.  He routinely yelled that he was going to come over to my house with a machine gun if I didn’t cut down literally every 200-year old pine tree in my yard to keep pine needles from getting onto his screened-in pool enclosure.  The pool and enclosure that he had only recently installed directly under my 200-year old pine trees.

So, to summarize, the people we were seated next to were not my type of crowd.  This is not the most remarkable thing about them, as I am a pissy little so-and-so, and most people are not my type of crowd.

We sat next to The Jersey Shore for several hours’ worth of horse races.  The truly remarkable thing about them was how they seemed to pick the winning horse in every single race.  It was bizarre.  Any time a horse would cross the finish line, they would come leaping out of their seats, banging on the windows overlooking the track, screaming at the top of their lungs like they had just won a million dollars.  Every race.  All day.

Nobody’s that lucky – especially with those haircuts.

I took particular notice of a younger gentleman I’ll call “Da Mooch” whose celebratory screaming included him repeatedly yelling across the entire restaurant, “WHO’S DA MOOCH NOW, BAY-BEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

Did I mention this fancy brunch was like $75 a head?  It wasn’t Shoney’s, is what I’m saying.

My personal favorite was when he jumped up from his table, pointed his crotch at the faces of the other men at his table, made a repeated chopping motion at his groin and yelled, “WHO’S DA MOOCH NOW, BAY-BEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

I was so intrigued by this, trying to figure out who Da Mooch currently was, who Da Mooch used to be, when the whole argument over the identity of Da Mooch got started, what Da Mooch’s favorite character is on Game of Thrones, that I nearly missed it when Da Mooch’s own mother said that his wife had “a golden twat” and that she should “sit on his tickets for good luck.”

Good lord I wish I were making that up.  Even I, a filthy-mouthed heathen demon woman, don’t use the “T” word.  If you want explicit content, apparently you have to go hang out with Da Mooch’s mother.

As it turned out, the reason Da Mooch and Company were winning every horse race was because they were betting on every single horse on the field to win.  In every single race.  So while they were actually winning one bet on a race, they were losing anywhere from 10-20 bets on that same race.  Huh???

After watching Da Mooch go completely hog-wild after winning one particular race, running table to table, red-faced yelling, veins practically bursting out of his forehead, and high-fiving his cohorts like he just won the Superbowl, when he cashed in his ticket, he quietly told one of his friends that he had placed $70 worth of bets on that race, to collect only $35 in winnings.  This ludicrous display of celebration was what him losing $35 looked like.

It was at that precise moment that I realized who Da Mooch was now, baby.

I’m just kidding. We’ll never know.  It could even be you for all I know.

Reasonable approximation of Da Mooch

24 thoughts on “Who’s Da Mooch Now, Bay-beeeeee

  1. Haha! What a Mooch! Losing more money than he made, but yep pretty accurate for the name though! So, peeps from New Jersey act that way in Florida huh? Its like people from New Mexico act here in Texas with their offensive driving, cutting you off on the freeway, always saying how much better New Mexico is, living here but never changing their licence plates for fear of the New Mexico plate police coming after them and forcing them to give up their membership to the New Mexican Society of Bad drivers and Rude Attitudes!

    Well at least you know who Da Mooch is, and maybe you will never have to encounter the Mooch and his outdated hairstyles, and overly tanned, coconut tan oil smelling, money losing crew again. lmao

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I think so long as I stay clear of the tanning salons and free clinics, I should hopefully be okay!

      That’s so funny that New Mexico is the New Jersey of Texas! I would have never known. I just assumed New Jersey was the New Jersey of everywhere. 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I grew up across the river from Joisey. All I can say is that it is still illegal to kill people for being disgusting and obnoxious, but after you reach a certain age a life sentence isn’t much of a deterrent. Fortunately, I live 1500 miles west of there now and even farther from where they occasionally migrate. Lucky me!

    Liked by 3 people

    1. I recently found out a younger coworker hangs out at a Jersey Shore type establishment on the weekends, where all Da Mooches flock with their gelled hair and spray tans, and shook her by the shoulders like she was the lady in “Airplane!” that started freaking out. “You CAN’T go there! Promise me you’ll stop going there!!!”

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Well, I’m originally from Jersey so I should be offended. But I’m not because yeah, I grew up with Da Mooch and his assorted kin. Jersey is loud, and brash and okay… not always at the top of the academic ladder. But you have to admit… we are blog worthy. That’s sumthin’!

    Liked by 2 people

      1. Embarrassed to admit I once dated a Jersey-ite when I was in high school who actually had a custom sweatshirt made that said “100% Italian” on the front and “Italians Do It Better” on the back.

        My friend, He did not do it better.

        Liked by 2 people

  4. I ran into The Jersey Shore contingent a few years ago in Mexico. One guy was floating in the pool with a pizza on his belly like a terrible otter and licking grease off his girlfriend’s face. If you can imagine, they were even worse at night.
    We once went to the Derby. Husband commented that the crowd at Talladega was much more polite.
    Another excellent one, lady.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. This…

    “pointed his crotch at the faces of the other men at his table, made a repeated chopping motion at his groin and yelled, “WHO’S DA MOOCH NOW, BAY-BEEEEEEEE!!!!!””

    I’m totally on the floor dead, your perfectly painted picture has me howling, lol!!!

    I really did not think people like that existed in real life, just literally on that show. What an interesting fancy/Jersey afternoon you had. Did you guys at least take home any winnings for your trouble?

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I had the misfortune of betting on the horse that initially won, and was then disqualified! First time that’s ever happened in the 145 years of the Kentucky Derby! I feel like I got my money’s worth at the brunch buffet, though. And of course, getting to share the same air as Da Mooch was a gift unto itself.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Uhg!!! You were a victim of that craziness!? I heard about that, it’s incredible! Thank goodness for the buffet though, lol, saved your whole damn day.

        Liked by 1 person

  6. I know these people – in England we call them chavs. Husband & I passed a bus full of race day goers last year, as they pulled over to make a wee on the side of the road in full view of everyone driving past, making obscene hand gestures at anyone who hooted or shouted, and that my friend, was the ladies!!!

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.