I would like to believe that fate has led me to stumble upon my old blog one day after turning 30. Sounds like a good reason to start blogging again. Stay tuned for updates (all three of you).
Like the rest of the country, I’ve caught the Obama fever. As with any of my political affiliations and aspirations, this has caused much dismay to my Mother, (although she’s probably happier that I’m not supporting Billary) who still believes that Obama is secretly a Muslim and a communist.
Check out Obama here in response to claims that his message is ‘just words.’
My roomie Breisen stumbled upon what is probably the most hilarious portrayal of the myth and legend that is the Williamsburg hipster.
For those of you that are not from around these parts, Williamsburg a neighborhood in Brooklyn notorious for it’s uber-hip wanna-be artists/musicians/actors residents, known in layman’s terms as the hipster.
A more adequate description would be:
The hipster listens to bands that you have never heard of and has a hairstyle that can only be described as “complicated” (most likely achieved by a minimum of one week not washing it). Probably tattooed. Definitely cooler than you. Reads Black Book, Nylon, and the Styles section of the New York Times. Drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon. Often. Complains. Always denies being a hipster. Probably living off parents money – and spends a great deal of it to look like they don’t have any. Has friends and/or self cut hair. Dyes it frequently (black, white-blonde, etc. and until scalp bleeds). Has a closet full of clothing but usually wears same three things OVER AND OVER (most likely very tight black pants, scarf, and ironic tee-shirt). Chips off nail polish artfully after $50 manicure. Sleeps with everyone and talks about it at great volume in crowded coffee shops. Addicted to coffee, cigarettes (Parliaments, Camel Reds, Lucky Strikes, etc.), and possibly cocaine. Claims to be in a band. Rehearsals consist of choosing outfits for next show and drinking PBR. Majors or majored in art, writing, or queer studies. Name-drops. May go by “Penny Lane,” “Eleanor Rigby,” etc. when drunk. On PBR. Which is usually.
So enjoy this hilarious tribute to hipsterdom, The Hipster Olympics.
Let it be said that after seeing Daft Punk in concert my life is officially complete.
Not only was the crowd completely blown away for a good hour and a half, but these guys know how to scorch your face with lights a little bit of ‘One More Time’.
Never mind the fact that the idiots at Keyspan Park stopped selling beer at 10 PM. Da Funk was enough to keep everyone going! Let the video speak for itself.