I am so bored. It's 2:17, I don't have anywhere to be until 4:10 and I don't think I'm going to make it sitting in one spot without moving for another two hours.
American Apparel is horrible. I'd like to know why there is one on every street corner in Manhattan. WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. THAT. ABOUT? How are they able to sell enough stone washed glitter unitards to stay in business? And why do all of their promotional photos make me feel seedy and unclean? (Where do they pick up their "real" looking models...it must on the way to the all night dance studio after an 18 hour heroin binge. It's like looking at the before shots of an amateur porn movie.)
What is a hipster, in ten words or less?
I would love to meet someone who admits to being a hipster, but isn't. A stark contrast to those in denial who are.
I bet you could make a coffe table book and sell it at Urban Outfitters called, "Self Proclaimed Hipsters -- trail blazers of a generation, boldly following in the footsteps of those before them." I don't even know what that means, but I think it sounds cool --the best part is, so will everyone else. It is now 2:29.
I was out this weekend and two of my friends made fun of my hat. It's a little rastafari inspired, sure. But I fucking love that hat.
Bon Chon chicken in New York. You will not be diasppointed.
Two years ago my part time lover stole a pin I had that said, "fuck literature" on it. I would like that back. Sometimes when I get mad at him I ask for it back. Then, when he offers it to me, I refuse to take it.
Beth: Did you hear what happened to Peanut Butter!?
