1-976 HIPSTER

Subcultures fascinate me and nothing fascinates me more than Hipsters.  They are fucking everywhere, literally and figuratively and I enjoy poking fun at them.  (probably a poor word choice there)

There is a fetish out there for everyone so I’m sure there is a Hipster Phone Sex Line and here’s how I think it would go down:

Caller: (after dialing 1-976-HIPSTER and giving her his credit card number) Hi there, I’m a little nervous, I’ve never done this before.

     Hipster: Don’t be nervous, I’m here to ease your stress and a ease a few other things….if you know what I mean.

Caller:  Oh well, that sounds nice.  Can you call me Clementine?

Hipster: Sure thing, but how about Clemmy?

Caller:  (giggling) Oh yeah, that’s nice.  I’m already getting wet, tell me about your vintage records.

Hipster: Glad you asked, I have quite the vinyl collection.  Original Sgt. Peppers, Hendrix Isle of Wight,  Johnny Cash, Salt N Peppa………

Caller: (gently moaning) I was so close until Salt N Peppa.  Let me hear about your ironic beard and wardrobe  (hands in panties) Continue reading

In San Fran

First trip to San Fran, first trip to Cali, first trip to the Left Coast

Too scared to stay outside the financial district,

my pussy wasn’t ready for that cherry pop

I like to hang around the less smelly creatures when I travel to big cities,

That whole piss, patchouli dread-locked stink doesn’t appeal to my golden spoon upbringing.

San Fran is a different breed;

More Asians than you could throw a noodle at

More homeless than New York

More trendy than Miami

Oddly polite, like how white people treat other white people in the deep south

Did the good society thing and went to the SFMOMA and stared at some cool artwork with meanings I will never understand

After that, Wifey and I started drinking at the Hyde Out, a local bar with plenty of flavor;

Russian bar tender, hipsters playing dominoes while drinking local, craft beer, surprisingly friendly, oddly friendly, I could be a good drunk in San Fran, the locals make it so easy

Had our fill, then off to the Tonga Room in pursuit of Anthony Bourdain’s footsteps, got lost inside a cocktail that I think I saw on that one episode of the Brady Bunch when they were in Hawaii

It was called a Zombie, and yes, it fucking worked

Stumbled out and saw Frasier’s wife Lilith leaving the Fairmont getting into a BMW SUV,

Damn, she even looks like a bitch in person; sad because she’s probably a saint and does a lot of charity shit, but I will always remember how bad she fucked with Frasier, remember how she drove him to that bar stool every fucking day

Chinese New Year Parade blocked us in to a small section of restaurants, damn the Asians are everywhere; firecrackers, weird-ass dragon costumes, like a terrible acid dream, at least I was taller than most of them

San Fran gets a giant, opposable thumbs up from me, I will go back.

Bradentucky Seafood Festival; the land of white trash

“Deprived of meaningful work, men and women lose their reason for existence; they go stark, raving mad.” Fyodor Dostoevsky

A man wearing only one flip flop, sits slumped over on a bench resting the side of his head on a oak tree about 20 feet from the main stage.  He is wearing a black shirt with a red confederate flag on the front that says, “You’ve got your X, we’ve got ours.”

There are other men in only slightly better condition standing behind him drinking Budweiser from cans and  smoking pot from a one-hitter that slides into a belt buckle.  Behind them, a normal looking mom and dad with three young sons eat fried foods on extra-large toothpicks.

The weather is beautiful.  It’s about 80 degrees, sunny with no clouds and very little humidity.  The kind of weather that keeps the tourists around until the snow melts in their northern hometowns.  The kind of weather that keeps the tourists clogging my streets while I try not to succumb to massive road rage.

“If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me,” is the Lynyrd Skynrd song being played by the band.  About 25 to 30 people attempt to dance to the country anthem, but really just sway back and forth spilling beer on their feet without a care.  A rough, biker looking couple wades through the crowd with a pet python wrapped around both of their necks.  Little children run up to pet it, while others run away and grab their mother’s legs. Continue reading

Jude the Hipster Buys Condoms

Well, I enjoy poking fun at hipsters so I decided to start a series of hipster posts about Jude the Hipster and his adventures in every day life.

In this episode, Jude the Hipster buys some condoms.

Characters:

Jude– the Hipster, no description necessary

Sara– the Drug Store Clerk, about 22 years old and very, very average looking.

Fade In:  A typical Walgreens drug store in a slightly urban, but not too urban area.  Jude, wearing corduroys, a super tight shirt that says OBAMA ROCKS and a sporty purple fedora, walks into the store and heads directly to the pharmacy in the back to buy some condoms, but he has several questions for Sara the clerk.

Jude- (with confidence) Hi there.  I was wondering if could answer a couple questions for me about your prophylactic products.

Sara- (a little embarrassed) Sure, I guess.  I will do the best I can.

Jude- (stroking his ironic mustache) Great.  Well, I like to hang out downtown and I drink a lot of craft beer.

Just last night I tried a wonderful Belgian IPA that tasted like hops that only Bavarian Monks could produce.  Anyway, I digress.

Drinking a lot, coupled with my fancy mustache, I always tend to, you know, attract the ladies.  Do you get my drift???

Sara- (feeling uncomfortable)  I guess, what exactly is your question? Continue reading

Eclectic; a hipster conversation

From the Merriam Webster online dictionary- ECLECTIC: (n) one who uses a method or approach that is composed of elements drawn from various sources; one who uses an eclectic method or approach

For the most part, people who use the term “eclectic” really piss me off.  Generally, people who throw this term aimlessly into the air from their PBR stained lips are Hipsters or anyone else attempting to be ironically cool.

They are always trying to sound cooler than the current year they live in.  Let me explain a bit here.  Hipsters never live in the present.

They are either dressing, talking, smelling like they live in a previous era or they are attempting to create a new, futuristic beard/side-burn concoction.

But when the day is over, they are exactly like every other douche bag that is trying overly hard to be cooler than the person across from them drinking an obscure craft beer.

Here’s a small example of how the conversation may go down: (a normal, secure person sparking up a conversation with a Hipster)

     Normal Secure Person: Hi there, what kind of music do you like?

       Hipster: Well, I have a very eclectic taste in music.  I listen to a wide variety of artists, except Top 40 of course.  I don’t like to categorize anything or pigeon hole any artists, that would be unfair to their process. Continue reading

Hey Baptist

(Author’s note; I’m rather enjoying writing in this style, kind of like a letter to people who piss me off.  It makes me feel like someone is actually listening.  I graduated from a small, private Baptist college in Rome, Georgia, hence the inspiration.  It was the most racist, backwoods, redneck filled city I’ve ever lived in.)

Hey Baptist– Stop telling me not to drink beer while you fill your obese face with only deep-fried foods while washing it down with gallons of sweet tea and Mountain Dew.

A vegetable is no longer a vegetable once you bread it with flour, deep fry it and dip it in Ranch Dressing.

Hey Baptist– Stop telling me that I’m going to hell for having premarital sex while you secretly Google search “Filipino Lady-Boys Ball-Gag Naked Twister”.

I know that your wife is constantly busy folding your laundry, buttering your toast, ironing your suspenders and picking up your Twinkie wrappers and probably is too tired to let you go balls deep inside her each night. Continue reading