Thursday, January 23, 2014

Hipster Kids

I can't handle being friends with hipsters.

First of all, the facial hair. Who decided it would be considered 'hip' (or whatever the hipster word for 'hip' is) to have sprouts of pubes growing out of your faces?

Then, there are the clothes. The men dress like skinny girls, even if they're neither skinny nor girl, and the women shop in the teenage girls' department. Listen, hipsters: if I wanted to look like I hang out with men whose balls haven't dropped and prepubescent high school girls, I'd become a pedophile, okay? I'm all about having personal style, but when your personal style matches color-for-color, garment-for-garment the colors and garments of the scads of other twentysomethings who are lined up outside the same concert venue as you carrying the same chai latte as all your friends, that's not style. That's idiocy. A 30 year old's fashion accessories shouldn't be the same as my second-grade daughter's.

Seriously, kids: you look like a Tim Burton film trying to casually dust off and stroll away after a violent collision with a Lisa Frank Trapper-Keeper.

But worst of all is the up and down of the trends with these kids. They obsess over something for a year - mustaches, PBR, some random band who's not from the USA, an indy TV show that nobody else likes because it's awful but they like it because the jokes are funny in an unfunny way - and then suddenly they're over it, they're no longer interested, and you're uncool if you happen to still like it. Seriously? Did all these people suddenly become an aloof version of the insecure pretty girl in sixth grade who needs to be in on 'the next big thing' in order to like herself?

Ugh. I just have no time for it. I wish someone would do a study on the income, spending habits, and work habits of anyone who's labelled as a hipster. I guarantee they all have Iphones, don't work 40 hours a week, and don't even pay rent to their parents.

What a generation...

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