It’s important to make sure that you mute the volume on your computer before picking up the phone, else you lose what little geek cred you have as your friends realize that you’re watching Keyboard Cat videos weeks after the meme has lost it’s relevancy, although it would be kind of ‘cool’ (in the Hipster-Runoff-single-quotation-marks-way) to make a meta-Keyboard Cat/Yo Dawg mashup video in which I were being played off while being played off.1
So I’ll agree with all the super-defensive hipsters who declare that making fun of hipsters is played out when hipsters, you know, stop being so ridiculous and easily-made-fun-of, but in the meantime I think it’s an okay rule of thumb to accept that if the words “Urban Outfitters,” “PBR,” or “tofu” appear in your ostensibly hilarious critique of The American Hipster (see how those were all in the same post? That’s what the internet calls a “fail.”), you are probably covering ground not only well-trodden, but well-stomped-on, well-screwed-on-top-of, and well-shat-on–which means, sure, it’s fertile ground, but dude, it’s been shat on so maybe you should trod elsewhere…but anyway the point I really wanted to make is that I miss Blue States Lose and I’m not ashamed to say so.
TAGGED: vexation
Apparently it only takes four years, the euphoria of the unto-then nicest day of the year, the joy of artisanal gelato, a strong whiskey cocktail, and the confidence in one’s looks that comes only from a poorly lit room in order to have a strained conversation with someone you’ve stalked obsessively in the past…and that, my friends, is growth.
TAGGED: rejection • ridiculosity • whiskey • whiteboys
Living life ironically can be a real bitch, like, for example, when you meet up with some dude from Craigslist as a joke and lend him your SECOND copy of V for Vendetta and you realize afterward that he’s a bit of a sociopath and then you have to weigh emailing him to get your book back with going to the Video Library to buy more Alan Moore, which would prompt a forty-five minute conversation with a couple of nerds who don’t even want to fuck you…like I said: a real bitch.
Having had my soon-to-be-perverted-by-Keanu-Reeves favorite anime on the mind for a few days now, my farewell to Sir Bush and Friends takes a familiarly capitalized, italicized form: SEE YOU NEOCON…COWBOY.
What’s better than two little Black boys taking it upon themselves to gleefully rough-house in your backyard on a warm fall afternoon while you read laughably elitist media (my currently open tabs? An article each in the New York Times, Harper’s, and The New Yorker. YES I AM ASHAMED.) on the back steps?
Within the past three days, both M. Night Shamalan and Michael Cera have both come to dine at my place of work, a happenstance I am choosing to take as a curiously fortuitous couplet which should clearly form the basis of a Hodgman-esque omen/portent prediction.
Every time I read an article by stale (but darling!) old-media technocrat John C. Dvorak, I think about the time several years ago when I was sure that I saw him in an Italian restaurant; I stared him down, silently considering the propriety of approaching someone who may have just been an mildy-doughy, middle-aged, bespectacled, white nobody for an autograph, and finally decided to leave him be as I realized that he looked incredibly frightened of the wide-eyed, less-doughy, young-aged, bespectacled, black nobody who wouldn’t look away.
TAGGED: geekery
It is tomato season and the farmer’s market is twice a week but a few blocks away and I know I have a five dollar coupon lurking around here somewhere and I am reminded of how Ramona liked to call them “tommy-toes” (and am totes nostalgic for Beverly Cleary) and there are are peppercorns just waiting to be cracked over thick slices of red and orange joy and I’m starting to salivate with anticipation just a little bit andZOMGNOMNOMNOMINSEASONTOMATOES!!!!1
TAGGED: nomnomnom
Serendipitously enough–well, serendipitous to me and me alone because over the past week (and owing the fact that I have only the most intermittant access to the internet these days) I have been re-watching various STELLA goodies and listening to Me Talk Pretty One Day on CD–Michael Ian Black is attempting a literary feud of sorts with David Sedaris, which means that my dreams tonight will be pleasantly replete with tandem bicycles and Intro French vocab.
TAGGED: glee • popculture • whiteboys