Out Before the 2nd Date

Doogie Howser's Theory of Awesome™ and All That It Entails

Tue, 04 Sep 2012 14:58:44 -0500

Former teen M.D. Neil Patrick Harris is the definition of awesome. From adolescent surgeon faced with acne and appendectomies to sleazy but super funny womanizer (ironic?). NPH embodies awesome on an awesome scale.

Sacrificing his former glory as Doogie Howser M.D. NPH is now known as Barney Stinson (HIMYM, Mondays CBS). For Barney, there are no bad days. To imply that THE Barney Stinson could have an even less than stellar day tells me that you haven’t witnessed the conniving yet enterprising maelstrom that is Barney Stinson. This is the same guy whose sole purpose for going to hardware stores is to pick up single, recently single and recently divorced women. The same guy who suited up in lipstick and a women’s blouse to ‘land that lesbian plane’ for the first time. Doubters and naysayers cast their bets following up with the obligatory “aint no snakes on that plane,” in an almost ‘That’s What She Said’ fashion. In the end Barney did indeed land that plane apparently with no questions about his parts being different (READ: he has smaller muscles than her regulars).

When faced with the task of bedding down his first lesbian, Barney rose to the occasion. His mantra is that to have an awesome day, ergo pulling off legendary feats of manliness and bro-dom you have to think awesome. While down with the flu and damn near on his death bed Barney once explained his Theory of Awesome™ to friend Robin -“Oh Robin, my simple friend from the untamed north*. Let me tell you about a little thing I like to call ‘mind over body’ … You see, whenever I start feeling sick, I just stop being sick and be awesome instead. True story.”- How great is that? Simply thinking happy thoughts makes you feel better. Just thinking about your Liberty Bell** imbibes you with a superhuman immunity purging your body of any and every ailment known to man excluding the common cold. Results do vary of course. For some, the Theory of Awesome can yield even greater results. Just look at Peter Pan and his Lost Boys. Don’t expect immortality and the ability to fly though; he was Scottish. KT Tunstall and the original James Bond, Sean Connery prove that Scots are just plain awesome.

These past two weeks have been pretty rough for me and I felt something that I rarely ever experience; pity. Well, not just any kind of pity but pity for myself. I know, I know. Something’s got to be wrong if I’m feeling sorry for me, right? However, with the skillful employment of NPH’s Theory of Awesome™ I was able to have a breezy Monday. I b*tch slapped that pity in the mouth and carried on like I was king of the world. Here is a list of steps to having an Awesome Day!™ I renamed it cause NPH trademarked AD!™

Steps to having a Breezy Day

1) DL ‘Smile Like You Mean It’ Not the crappy Killers version but David Gray’s.

2) Let Atlas take over and let go of that heavy burden. It’ll do wonders for the lower back.

3) Let the awesome flow through you. Feel it coursing through your veins. Feel good***

3) Smile, you’re gonna have an awesome day. CAUTION: Resulting confidence may drive you to accomplish such feats as landing the proverbial lesbian plane or finding your Liberty Bell.

********************************************************************

*Robin is from Canada. Feel free to insult and/or generally mock her Canuck roots.

**Monumental task set forth by a band of bros, homies, or friends with the intent of one day carrying out that task. Often acted upon in an act of spontaneity after which hilarity often ensues. Barney had hoped to and eventually did lick the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia with his BBF Ted.

***Dress accordingly though; none of your normal crappy attire. ‘Look good, feel good still applies.’

"It can be helpful simply to make a written or mental list of the things you do each day. Then give..."

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 10:01:01 -0500

““It can be helpful simply to make a written or mental list of the things you do each day. Then give yourself a mental credit for each of them, however small. This will help you focus on what you have done instead of what you haven’t gotten around to do. It may sound simplistic, but it works.””

- David Burns

Fuck yeah! New (sorta) Mumford & Sons. Skip ahead to the...

Wed, 13 Jun 2012 17:48:06 -0500

Fuck yeah! New (sorta) Mumford & Sons. Skip ahead to the 4:00 mark to hear “Where Are You Now”.

Where Did All The Sweet Girls Go?

Thu, 31 May 2012 11:47:37 -0500

Sometimes I find myself worrying about things over which I have no control. Usually it is something as insignificant as the weather. Or maybe it’s a new Lit professor who is obviously underpaid but took the job because his novel didn’t take off like he thought it would. Fortunately for me I have the attention span of a crack-addicted chimp with ADD and my worrying is over as quickly as it began. For the heavier things I usually grab a few drinks and rant to friends or sleep on it. Occasionally, there are moments where this isn’t enough. A few months ago I found myself vegging out in front of the TV with my current girl. We’d just finished off two huge gyros and a feta salad. Filled to the brim with greasy Greek food, we were both ready to fall asleep.

I looked down at her and noticed a grin slowly spread across her face as I stroked her hair. Moments like that were the best. No worries and no cares. Just me, a full stomach and the sweetest girl in the world. We both took classes full time and worked outside of class. That coupled with a few too many friends pulling us in opposite directions put a premium on the time we got to spend together. I’ll admit it; I enjoyed it a lot. Still, even in that moment I began to worry. It snuck up on me at first hiding beneath a full belly and an epic battle on Iron Chef. Or maybe it was because I was so lost in her golden-brown hair. “What if this is it? What if this is the last time I could enjoy a moment like this?” I’d like to blame my Christian background for those thoughts but that would be a lie. I hated casual dating with a passion and yet here I was doing it. The thought of giving someone up after such a short time never sat well with me. Taking the time to take in all of her interests, her dreams and aspirations and her as a woman was time consuming. To me dating was supposed to lead to something a bit more… permanent. I’d made an exception in her case though. I don’t know if it was my own foolish instinct fighting against years of testosterone-fueled training. Or maybe a lapse in judgment. Either way I decided to tell caution to go fuck itself and asked her out.

While what we had grew and chugged along wonderfully, I noticed that relationships around me were beginning to want. I had friends who would spend entire nights at bars or maybe over video games bitching about their girlfriends. They’d complain about how much time they had to spend together, or the nagging or the lack of sex.

One even had the nerve to try and pit her current boyfriend against an ex in a bid to make him jealous. Not only did this fail due to a well-timed intervention on my part, but he decided to end things that night. I saw guys in relationships go to the ends of the earth trying to please their partners and get almost nothing in return. Some would let days pass without trying to call. Others would prioritize friends over their boyfriends whenever the chance came up. “Where did all the sweet girls go?” I asked myself. Is fate itself bending over backwards to make sure I’m happy or am I just extremely lucky? My attention snapped back to her as she gave a slight yawn and turned to bury her face in my chest. “What are you mumbling about?” she asked half-aloud. “Just the econ homework for tomorrow,” I replied. “I haven’t started on it yet.” “Silly boy, you better get started on it.” With that, she yawned again and dozed off into sleep. I sure did enjoy moments like these. “God please let the sweet girls be here when I get old.”

Float On

Wed, 30 May 2012 11:56:24 -0500

I want to travel the world. I want to see all that Mother Earth has to offer me. I want to swim deep within her oceans and when near death, I will fear not one damn thing. She will comfort me and hold me like my own mother did once upon a time. “Commit my body to your own or let me go,” I’ll shout. I know this is mighty foolish of me to try and convince her but maybe she will. Then, I’ll move on to bigger and hopefully better things. Maybe I’ll climb a mountain. Or maybe I’ll have a bit of rum and float lazily in some shoddy kayak. I’d lay back and stare at the sky. Maybe at the moon. Maybe the stars. Who knows? Give me the chance sweet nature and I’ll devour it whole. “No more herb for me,” I’d lie again. Though it pains me to admit such a thing, it frightened me just a bit to sense the shift in my thoughts from the banality of my simple life to something bigger. Something surreal. Things that I wasn’t used to. “Free your mind and enjoy this gift,” she’d reply. “No, not today.” Once again I’d throw away what remained of the grass and float gently back down to the earth. No more traveling for now. No lakeside fires or lengthy tales of happiness and excess. Just the boredom that comes with such a simple life.

Eight? No, Make That Four Simple Rules to Performing Alchemy

Thu, 24 May 2012 10:55:56 -0500

—-Small disclaimer. You can’t actually do any of the shit I wrote about below. This story was written as an assignment in a Junior level writing class at Ole Miss. It highlights one of the reasons why I have so much trouble passing liberal arts classes. I can never take them seriously. We were supposed to write a short story about describing a process and this is what I came up with.—-

“Jo, get up. You’re going to love this.” My little brother looked up at me from his makeshift bed of hay. He yawned and stretched before sitting up. I could tell he’d been slacking off again, which our mom hated. She’d been on my case about getting him to be more active. I’d never know why she bothered me with this rather than him. “That boy is going to be a bum one day and it’s gonna be both of our faults. You’re in charge of getting him up and moving or you’re gonna be off with your father.” Dad worked as an officer in the state military and I wanted nothing to do with that. He had a reputation of being brutal in his methods. Long days split between physical training, nearly impossible marksmanship trials and military exams did not appeal to me. With the threat of being the state’s lapdog looming over my head and my mom’s notoriety for keeping her promises, I had no choice but to get Jo involved in something. That something would be alchemy.

“Jo, get up. I’m going to whip you into an ace alchemist.” My enthusiasm did little to excite him. He gave a slight yawn and lay back down on the hay. “This is gonna be hard,” I thought to myself. “Go into the house and grab everything on this list. It’s okay to get extra but make sure you get enough.” I handed him the list and reached out to help him up. “Salt, water, bowls and cups. This looks like a lot. What a drag.” My patience almost dropped to nil but I pushed on. If I could get him into this then I could spend my summers teaching and fishing instead of crawling through trenches. “Jo, just do it. I promise you’re going to love it.” He rolled his eyes and stood to leave. I hoped in anticipation of getting started but probably more because he wanted to get away from me and my eager beaver attitude.

mom always kept her promises so I decided to teach my brother how to perform alchemy. “Get up Jo. I’m going to whip you into an ace alchemist.” He sat up on the hay and yawned. It was just past midday and he already needed a nap. “Go into the house and grab some salt, two of the big measuring bowls, and bring out to jugs of water.” Jo looked down at the hay, “What a bother. I just want to relax and that sounds like a lot.” My patience began to drop almost to nil. “Jo, just do it. I promise you’re going to love it. I’ll admit it is hard work but it’s definitely worth the reward.” Jo stood up and left the barn. I knelt down and began to sweep a small area with my hands. To perform alchemy, you need a relatively clean work environment. If there was too much debris then the first lesson would be screwed. I finished sweeping the area and waited for Jo. After about five minutes he had not came back so I started to clear a bigger area. “Might as well go for broke,” I thought to myself. I finished up right as Jo came back into the barn. His face was sweaty and he cheek was bruised. Could he really be that lazy? Fetching water and salt shouldn’t tire him out. “You okay, Jo?” “He unstrapped the burlap sack filled with salt and dropped it to the ground. “She hit me again. I hate her. Why does she have to be such a bitch?” “It’s probably because you’re so lazy,” I said half-aloud. “Don’t worry about that Jo. You’ll forget all about her once we get started. I need you to focus because it’s going to require a lot of concentration. Jo sat the water jugs down outside of the swept area and then we got started with his first alchemy.

“Okay. The first thing you have to know about alchemy is to understand the basics. Alchemy is composed of three basic concepts: understanding, decomposition, and reassembling. Understanding is knowing what materials you are using down to the molecular level. You have to know what the chemical properties of the material you are using. The salt that you brought in is made of sodium chloride.” The look on his face told me that he hadn’t paid attention in class that year. “Don’t worry, Jo, this isn’t a chemistry primer. Water is made up of hydrogen and oxygen. I’ll assume that you don’t know the proportions of any of those elements so you’ll just have to see the result of ignorance later.” I let my words trail off so that if he did become interested in alchemy, he might start to study a bit more. “Now, we’ll draw a transmutation circle. A transmutation circle is the catalyst that jumpstarts the whole process. It begins the process and your body helps to complete. Try to think of it as two circuits. Both are intertwined yet separate. Try to gauge the size of the circle by how large you want your transmuted object to be. Go ahead, draw a circle.” Jo dropped to the ground and traced a circle in the dirt that was about the size of a paperback. I then knelt beside him and drew a circle that was perfectly six feet in diameter. He stared at my circle and then back at his. “Did I make it big enough?” “It looks good. We’ll make up for the size in a bit. Next up is decomposition.” I pulled a collapsible scale and quantifier from my pocket. “Your arms are about 710 millimeter’s long and I’m assuming that because you sleep so much that you can probably lift about 45 kilos.” The confused look began to creep back onto his face. “I forgot to tell you. We’ll be using metrics instead of the empirical system. It’s a bit easier to work with. Measure out seven liters of water while I get the water. These measurements go back to the concept of understanding. I can eyeball how much of each you’ll need since I’ve done this so many times. If you get to know your materials as well as you know the Sandman then alchemy will be cake for you.” He rolled his eyes dismissively and began to scoop out the salt. Once he’d finished I measured out my own salt. “That’s a lot of salt. Why do you have so much more than me?” I had to fight to keep the snarky comment fighting to come out. I lost that battle though. “I actually use my body for more than finding a better place to sleep during the day. Besides, it’s only 70 kilos. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be sure that we get all of the salt back to Mom.” I drew a rough sketch of the molecular makeup of the water and salt and told Jo to memorize the picture. “Once we start, you‘re going to picture those molecules breaking down.” I poured the water out onto the salt piles. “Now, the fun starts.”

I knelt down beside my pile and motioned for him to do the same. “Touch the circle and imagine a figure. It can be any figure though an ice sculpture tends to be a bit easier.” Jo closed his eyes and put his on the dirt floor. “Now picture those molecules I drew earlier combining. The hydrogen will bond with the oxygen and sodium like a hexagon. The ends of the hexagon should be the sodium and that funky looking chloride should float away.” I looked over at Jo and found that he was frowning. “He’s really getting into this,” I thought to myself. “No military for me. Not yet, anyway.” “Now picture the millions of the hexagon-shaped molecules attaching to each other on all sides. More and more should clump together until they form the figure that you want to create. Reassembly is basically willing your decomposed materials into a new form.” I looked down at my own circle and readied myself. I taught a few alchemy lessons on the side so that my mom wouldn’t nag me about not working on the farm. I’d always intentionally upstaged my students during their first few lessons to entice them into learning more. My brother’s lesson shouldn’t be any different. “Should I make a spear or a badass war hammer?” A flash of blue light shone through the room and nearly blinded me. “Wow! He’s actually doing it.” I started my transmutations and begin to imagine an eight-foot long spear. I stood and pulled the handle of the still forming spear from the circle and spun around in a dramatic fashion. “You better hurry up. I could kill you now and you couldn’t do a thing about it.” I turned to face Jo and was shocked at what I saw. A crystal war hammer rested casually across his shoulders. “You finished yet?” He asked. He let the hammer fall from his shoulders and laughed. “I forgot to mention this to you but Dad left his old alchemy books in the attic. I may have read a few chapters.” I was happy that he could perform alchemy but feigned anger. “You little shit! Mom threatened to send me off to the State Military because you’re so damn lazy.” I stepped back a few feet and swung the spear’s point in a wide arc over his head. I intended to miss but did not expect him to follow up with a tail end of the hammer bashing my ribs. The cracking sound my bones made was a bit sickening but that wasn’t what bothered me. “How’d you make that hammer so heavy? Even in its condensed state that should only weigh a little over 45 kilos.” He smiled and laid the hammer back across both shoulders. “Did you forget about the most important rule of alchemy? I’m guessing that you’re the ignorant one. From those cracked ribs I’d guess that this hammer probably weighs about 170 pounds. I don’t know what that is in kilos but I’m sure it’s a lot more than 45 kilos. It’s all a matter of equivalent exchange,” he said with a smile. “You know THE law of equivalent exchange. In order for something to be gained, something of equal value must be given up. I added a lot of that dirt from the floor.” I looked at the floor at noticed that this transmutation circle had been completely hollowed out and was several feet deep. I couldn’t help but to be proud of him. The lazy bum was actually good for something. “Good job. I didn’t know you had it in you, but you proved me wrong. I do have one question though. Was the jab to the ribs necessary? It feels like I got rammed by a bull.” “I’d like to think so. I couldn’t have my older brother thinking I was a lazy bum. So I decided to show you that I’m not. It was a bit excessive but you deserved it.” I pulled off my shirt and wrapped it around my torso. “Yeah, I guess I did. Tell me the steps to performing alchemy so that I’ll have something to report back to Mom.” Jo dropped his hammer to the ground and put my arm around his shoulder. “First, you have to know the three basic concepts alchemy: understanding, decomposition, and reassembly. Understanding is knowing your materials and all of their properties. That’s a load of bull though. I just made a perfectly good hammer and I’ve never transmuted dirt before. Next up is drawing a transmutation circle to channel energy through. You should try to make it as big as the finished product.” I walked with my arm around his shoulder and stepped out of the barn. The sun seemed to ease the pain of the cracked ribs though not much. “The transmutation circle acts as the starter, or catalyst as you so snottily put it, for the transmutation. You then put your hands to the transmutation circle to make a larger circuit with your body and the circle. After that you think about the decomposition and reassembly and you’re done. How’s that for your report?” “Not bad,” I said, “but I’m going to rip your head off with a war hammer the size of this barn once my ribs heal.”

I love how Parker gives her marks amphetamines before she takes...

Thu, 24 May 2012 01:48:09 -0500

I love how Parker gives her marks amphetamines before she takes them down. “One last hit before they lose it all.”

Goodbye Parrish's, Jim's An Asshole

Tue, 22 May 2012 09:57:01 -0500

So, a few weeks ago I came up with the not so great idea of hanging out with an old friend and former boss. Jim was in town for a few days helping his daughter get ready for graduation and decided to call me up. I was later perma-banned from one of the few places to grab a decent drink in this town and found out why I stopped drinking with Jim in the first place.

That night started out like any other Thursday night in Oxford. College students flooded the main Square that night in search of alcohol, sex and excess. I usually went with Jim because though he is fairly wealthy and intelligent, he hated to party alone. He had a few quirks but nothing a few shots couldn’t take care of. I met him at a bookstore just off the Square and we made our way to my favorite bar, Taylor’s Pub. This was my favorite because the drinks were strong and the music was decent. We walked in through the front door and waved to the owner and everyone we knew. Jim broke away from me and made a beeline toward some blonde that was half his age. “Oh god,” I thought to myself, “he’s already started.” I watched as he pulled out a stool and sat down beside the girl. She looked disinterested until Jim did what he always does when things aren’t going his way; he pulled out his Amex Black card and ‘accidentally’ dropped it on the counter. Like I said before, Jim’s fairly wealthy. However, he’s usually dressed in workout gear. No one would ever know that he owned four of the most successful businesses in the Jackson metro unless he told them. A spark flashed in her eyes and she leaned in with a big smile. “Yeah, she’s hooked,” I said to myself. “Guess I’ll get myself a gin.”

I left Jim and headed towards the back of the bar. There was a bartender in the back who had what looked like watermelons under her blouse. It was a great way to keep my attention and empty my wallet. I didn’t mind spending the money though since her conversation was great and her pour was heavy. I made my way through the sizeable crowd and flagged her down. “Hey Mandy. Let me get a gin and tonic. Make it a double and put some love in it please.” She winked and reached behind her to grab a bottle of gin. “Hold on, use the cheap stuff. Old Jimmy’s up front with some little sorority chick. You know how that goes. I’ll be here for a while. “I waited while Mandy mixed my drink and admired that figure of hers until I heard shouting from the front of the bar.”Fuck you pal. Do you know who I am? I’m Jimmy Stevens. I own your daddy and I can buy this little pissy bar of yours.” Mandy slid the drink towards me and nodded in Jim’s direction. “Thanks hon.” I dropped cash on the bar and ran towards the front of the bar. “Jim, what happened?” A pair of policemen restrained Jim and were taking him out of the front of the bar. “That little fuck tells me that I reached the limit and that I couldn’t have another drink. Then he ignores me when I asked him why. Then he accuses me of trying to steal his tip jar.” I turn to the burly barman and ask him what happened. “Pretty much what he said except he did try to steal my tip jar. Made me cut my hand on the broken glass too.” I let what the bartender told me sink in. Jim did have a reputation of drinking too much. He’d never caused a scene quite like this before though. I drop more cash onto the bar and apologize to the bartender. “Now, I need to bail Jimmy out.”

I pulled out my cell phone once I made it to my car and dialed the police station’s main line. “Chuck with the Oxford Police Department. What can I do you for?” “Yeah, I had a friend get hauled off about 10 minutes ago. It’s for disturbing the peace and possible assault. How much is his bail?” I heard Chuck laugh and say, “Oh him? Shit it’ll probably be about $700. They ain’t letting him out until the morning though. Seems that he didn’t know how to act in the patrol car. You can come on up here and pay the bail now though.” “That’s okay,” I said, “he needs to spend the night up there.” “Suit yourself. You have a good night then.” “You too. Also, can you do me a favor? don’t let him know I said that. He’s my boss and might be a little sore about it.” I hung up the phone and sat for a few minutes in the car. “Another great night with Jim,” I said. “Now, let’s get back to Mandy. That chest of hers isn’t gonna stare at itself.”

Come on skinny love what happened here…

Mon, 21 May 2012 05:05:00 -0500

Come on skinny love what happened here…

“Dear world, Step one: buy some glow sticks and bubbles. Step two: break the glow sticks in...

Sun, 11 Dec 2011 12:00:06 -0600

“Dear world, Step one: buy some glow sticks and bubbles. Step two: break the glow sticks in the bubble solution. Sincerely, glow in the dark bubbles. You’re welcome”

The first part of the video is the band practicing in French....

Thu, 10 Nov 2011 11:21:05 -0600

The first part of the video is the band practicing in French. About three minutes in is the Banjolin Song. Thanks Katherine for the link.

The Walk Home

Mon, 07 Nov 2011 01:39:00 -0600

Wow, I’ve definitely had too much to drink.” I stumbled forward and grabbed on to the railing. “Hey Adam, you okay?” I looked back to see who had asked me this question. “Ben, of course I’m alright. I’ve just too much drink okay.” Ben stooped down next time and asked, “Could you BE any drunker?” We both burst into laughter at what he had said. Drinking brought out the best and the worst in us and we’d both taken to watching the sitcom ‘Friends’ while heavily wasted. A couple of beers and suddenly the cast wasn’t so annoying. We sometimes caught ourselves quoting the cast and Ben’s impersonation of the ‘pseudo-in the closet basket case’ was dead on. Maybe I did drink too much. I didn’t care though. I had just been through the worst week of my life. Well, maybe not the worst week but it sure felt like it. I’d been dumped before, fired before and I’d also wrecked a car before. So maybe, just maybe I’d be okay.

Ben grabbed me by my shoulders and forced me upright. “Let’s go home buddy.” I knew Ben was just looking out for me but I didn’t want to leave yet. “You know Ben, I’d rather stay here.” I pushed him off and began dancing. An invisible waltz of sorts. I held an unseen partner by her waist and twirled her around. “Join me,” I asked. “I’d rather not. Let’s go Adam. It’s cold out here.” I turned to face him. I could from his voice that he was slightly peeved. I watched as he zipped up his jacket and proceed to walk away. “Okay man. Suit yourself.” “Ben, wait. You’re leaving me? I thought you said you would never leave me.” Ben turned around, stifling a laugh. “How many drinks HAVE you had?” He reached to pick my jacket up from the railing grabbed my arm. “Let’s get you home buddy.” If there was one thing that I could always count on, it would be Ben always being there. He’d been there for every break up, every bad day, and after every regretted hookup. “Okay Benny, let’s go home.”

jbuggington: leanettarobinson: muahahaha...

Wed, 14 Sep 2011 13:21:58 -0500

jbuggington:

leanettarobinson:

muahahaha lol

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Every. Fucking. Time.

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 09:13:08 -0500

DURING THE SEMESTER, STUDENTS ARE ENTITLED TO 5 EXCUSED OR UNEXCUSED ABSENCES. AFTER THE FIFTH ABSENCE, STUDENTS WILL AUTOMATICALLY FAIL THE COURSE.

Ok, I’ll admit it; the first time I heard this song was in...

Wed, 17 Aug 2011 08:57:51 -0500

Ok, I’ll admit it; the first time I heard this song was in Shrek. Still doesn’t beat the fact that it’s a damn good song. Oh yeah, this girl karaokes likes nobody’s business.

kadylynn:

Me singing Hallelujah…
New recording with some professional equipment (Thank you, friend).

"And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin’ to trade ALL the days, from this..."

Fri, 15 Jul 2011 12:09:05 -0500

“And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin’ to trade ALL the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they’ll never take… OUR BEER!!!”

- TaxGirl

In Defense of the Hipster

Thu, 14 Jul 2011 12:00:00 -0500

Hipster: Aged indie kids; Hipsters still maintain the air of snobbery, still shop at the salvation army and still have a completely astonishing array of knowledge when it comes to obscure music, pop-culture non-sequiturs and political sneers.

I picked that definition up from www.urbandictionary.com and a lot of people seem to think it’s true. It’s a shame that hipsters catch so much flack being that we owe them so much. Yes, we owe them. A LOT. You should be on your knees right now thanking every hipster from Sammy Davis Jr. and Buddy Holly on down to that weird guy in the skinny jeans and high-tops. You might not appreciate the novel he seems to be working on in Starbucks everyday but you do owe him. Maybe offer him a BJ? Hell, it could end up being great material for his story. But for now let’s get back to the topic at hand.

The difference between us regular folks and the so-called hipsters is that we (us regular folks) usually soak up whatever pop fluff is served up through Itunes while they (the hipsters) choose to seek out their own entertainment. It’s in the hipster’s blood to go against the grain. They’re about as counterculture as you could ever hope to be. The Beatniks of the 50’s, the hippies of the 60’s, the anti-establishment crowd of the 70’s and the Neo-soul/spoken word poets of the 90’s were all forerunners to the modern-day hipster. They’re constantly setting trends, meshing new art and spend countless hours cultivating their lifestyle to make them happy. Hipsters of today will happily support unknown indie artists by buying four-track EP’s and YouTubing live sets all the while recommending it to anyone within earshot. Take a second to think about a few of your favorite musicians. If some hipster somewhere hadn’t given them a chance you probably would’ve never heard of them. That guy you call a “trendy f***er” spent hours sifting through pop trash and found some obscure freestyle that lit his soul. The girl everyone thinks is a “music snob” was probably the first to sport those inch-thick glasses. Why? Because her grandma had the same pair in the 60’s and she thought they looked cool. Well, she did until EVERYFUCKINGBODY bought the exact same pair. I’ll admit that I’m guilty of this too.

This is part of the reason why most people think of hipsters as stuck-up, musical wonks. They’re pissed of that you (along with million other people) have caught on to their interests and that scares them. When the masses catch wind of something new there’s bound to be a change. Trends lose their appeal with pioneers. That band that you fell in love with because of their new, original sound? They’re trying something new on their sophomore album. Lead singers are usually quoted along the lines of, “We wanted to take our music in a new direction. Try to connect more with our fans.” This is usually code for, “F**k off, I got to sell albums, okay.” It’s our fault (regular folks) because they’ve realized that you can’t make money if your music is only being played in PacSun. TRL has to pick that shit up ASAP. And BET. And let’s get a remix going on with Justin Bieber or Lil Wayne.

And that is the moment when the hipster’s entire world comes crashing down. Something that was once special and significant to them is trendy now or has come full-circle to out of style. It’s definitely understandable when something you’ve put a lot of time into turns into a passing hobby or fad for others. Just because you took an “artsy” black and white photo of lawn furniture you’re not suddenly going to be an artist. So let’s try to understand these often misunderstood, seemingly apathetic but secretly angry hipsters. Mainstream crashed their party and now it won’t leave.

"This ain’t a scene, it’s a g*damn arms race."

Thu, 23 Jun 2011 10:07:23 -0500

“This ain’t a scene, it’s a g*damn arms race.”

- President John F. Kennedy (via historysaidwhat)

nevver: Satan is Always Happy

Tue, 21 Jun 2011 10:01:06 -0500

nevver:

Satan is Always Happy

I don't always buy my music. But when I do, it's on sale.

Wed, 15 Jun 2011 15:36:24 -0500

I don't always buy my music. But when I do, it's on sale. :