be sure to check out my stylin nail art. i'm not allowed to have it anymore now that i have a real job.
i live in northside. there is a scooter and dance bar behind my house. my entire neighborhood is filled with people like this:
i'm not joking, they are everywhere. i drive a volkswagen hatchback. i like to drink pbr. i have been listening exclusively to the arcade fire for the past 2 weeks. and this. i'm friends with boys who wear girl's pants. jon has a beard, rides a '71 honda scooter, and wears tan suede loafers to work with his jeans. i own more that 3 pairs of sunglasses whose lenses are bigger than my fist. we have a collection of belt buckles and taxidermy. i like etsy and threadless and urban and cb2. i own and wear moccasins.
what i'm getting at, friends, is that as much as i hate hipsters... some signs seem to point to me actually being one. scary, i know.
but don't panic.
the good news is i can't ride a bike. especially not a fixed-gear bike. in fact i'm not even sure i know what that means. i refuse to shop at american apparel or own/wear anything that even resembles a leotard. i don't like plaid, or the 70's, or men with moustaches. i don't like thai food. i maintain proper hygiene. i have an actual job and i hate the art scene. i won't ever watch the movies kids or gummo. i don't smoke. and no matter how hard he tries, jon is not going to get me to listen to the grizzly bears. i think zines are stupid. i drink starbucks instead of local coffee shop coffee, and i'm not sorry because they are jerks over there.
it's a fine line we're walking here.