Friday, February 8, 2008

Why I hate hipsters (volume 1 of 25)

First off, Id just like to get it out of the way that work-travel is a far better idea in concept than in actuality. I suppose working your ass off is a given, but being away from home, sleeping in an uncomfortable bed, away from friends and loved ones with only more work and a cup of coffee to look forward to the next day - "going away on business" sucks.
But if you gotta do it, its hard to beat New York.

My standard day looked something like this:
8:30am - wake up to annoying techno song phone alarm
8:55am - walk to work
9:05am - grab coffee
9:06am - work
Noon - lunch
1:00pm - work
9:00pm - leave office
At this time, after working a 12 hour day, with no breaks, about all I had in me was enough energy to walk to a restaurant in my ravenous state, eat an amazing meal and have a few glasses of wine.
This brings me to about 10:30pm. Tired, mini-buzz and ready to pass out.
Part of my routine was to stop by the corner 24 hr. cafe on my block and pick up a water bottle and a snack of some sort before I headed up to my room. Which brings me to my story.

So on this particular night I came in with a sweet tooth and knew I had to have the brownies I had been eyeing all week. I grabbed my water bottle first, as that was a constant, then walked over to the brownies and scoured them over looking for the thickest, fattest, nuttiest one. 5 minutes or so into brownie analyzation and speculation, this squirrely-lookin dude bursts through the door with a New York Times folded under his right arm and coffee thermos in his left. As he nervously wanders about the front of the store I noticed his high-water pants, thrift store shoes that dont look like they fit and had the same thought run through my head every time I see one of these guys..."who is this hipster fuck?"
To go along with the pants and shoes, he wore brown silk shirt with a leather vest, and to top it all off, he had one of those Ferdinand Magellan mustache-goatee combos. I AM one to judge, so I was instantly annoyed, but more in the way that you hope ugly chicks talking on their cell phones while driving get in accidents. So I watched, and waited.
Instead of doing something normal, halfway decent or using a shred of common decency, this hipster Dood walked skiddishly over to the coffee station, filled up his thermos and began to walk out. When the old man behind the counter started shouting "hey, you have to pay!"-this fucking guy walks closer to the counter, reaches into his pockets and says "I dont have any money" with a 'I dont know what the fuck you want me to do' look on his face.
So the owner has no choice but to let him walk out and gives one of those indian looking at a landfill looks.
Just terrible.

My buddy Hot Carl once said something to me when I first moved back to SF from San Diego after lamenting how hipsters pissed me off: "Hey, at least they're better than Bro's"
Well at least theres that.

Restaurants that I ate at in NYC:
En Japanese Brasserie(japanese) -
Blue Smoke(bbq) -
In Vino(italian) - in-vino-new-york
Serafina(italian) -
Duke's(neu american) -
PS450(neu american) -
ESPN Zone(bar food) -
Great Jones Cafe(cajun/creole) -
Taco Bell Express(amazingness) -


Thomas said...

That story is way worse than a bro. It's intentional and malicious. Bros are just fucking retarded. And Bros know they are fucking retarded. Hipsters are all snooty and think they're better than everybody.

But I've got a newsflash for those Walter Cronkites. They aren't.

(Quoting Zoolander? So bro)

Patrick said...

Hipsters are worse than the song "Hipster," which is a terrible song in its own right. I think it was you, Rowe, who put it best when we were at one of those Berkeley parties when you said, "It's like a contest to see who can be the ugliest."

But on the other hand, I pretty much entirely stopped going to punk shows because I got sick of the Bros showing up every time and Broing the fuck out everyone.

*Ryan* said...