Fodder

Life: it's all fodder for my (imaginary) novel. However, since I have no idea what I'm doing, I will probably just leave a crapload of scattered notes for my (imaginary) editor and have him piece it all together post-mortem a la David Foster Wallace.

Here are some tidbits just from the last couple of weeks.

• While enjoying a leisurely walk down the street the other evening, I saw a group of people through in a ground-floor room. The room had windows all the way around, and they were gathered attentively in a circle. I assumed it was a book reading or lecture. I slowed down a bit to check it out, and that's when I noticed the large projection screen at the front of the room. Wait, what is that? OH. IT'S A GIANT VAGINA WITH A BABY'S HEAD COMING OUT OF IT. Guess it's a birthing class, and not a reading. Wasn't ready for that one.

• I took the last bus home the other night. The bus driver got lost and skipped my neighborhood. I did get a private tour of Mt. Vernon, but I gotta say - there's not much going on there at 9:00 on a Thursday night. The bus driver was really apologetic and drove me home...in my very own personal bus. I am totally kicking myself for not asking her to hit the drive-through and the liquor store on the way.

• I do not care what you say. Toe shoes are weird and gross. And this lady had UGGS in her bag. I don't understand. Aren't those furry mammoth-foot boots made for comfort? Why would she need to change into these? To be trendy? But wait, are Uggs not trendy as well? My mind is blown. Also, I would never shop with this person.

• As part of my transformation into the full too-old-to-be-a-hipster-but-kinda-still-acting-like-one lifestyle, I bought a bike. This is my first bike in at least 12 years. The last time I attempted to ride one, my bell-bottoms (yeah, WHAT?) got stuck in something, and I fell into the road on campus. Instead of anyone asking if I was OK, cars honked and laughed as they drove by. But I'm back in the saddle again. I was a little shaky at first, but I got the hang of it after a few minutes. Just like riding a bike...wocka wocka. A gang of kids whizzed by me on their bikes as I was struggling to stay upright. Whatever, I'm older and my bike is totally cooler. Towanda!

• Hmmm, but what if it's questionable?...

Kiddo and Ramona's World Domination - Phase One: Moving to DC

I assume you've all been on pins and needles waiting for my next post. I implore you to keep in mind that conquering the world is a burdensome task, and it has taken most of my energy over the past month. Although I can't reveal too many details of the plan, I would like to share a little slice of my life in my new home.

Ramona and I are both excited to be a little further north. Mostly for the snow. OK, entirely for the snow. But wouldn't you know...the week I left Dallas, they got smacked with a whopper of a snowstorm. Twice. More proof that my former life was spent plowing down nuns and children in my car. But I did happen to snap a photo of the one time it has snowed here since I moved. It was at least half an inch.

I am currently shacking in the basement of my good friends and their cute kidlets (ages 3 and 5). I have learned more about Hello Kitty, coloring and poop in the last month than I've learned in 30 years. Parents, how the hell do you do it? Slow clap.

It's nice to be close to my homegirls. At some point in the future we will be living together in Miami, prowling the retirement homes for men and going to bingo...and having crazy adventures. I'll change my name to Blanche. Meet Rose and Sophia (Dorothy couldn't make it out).

I left my hipster man back in Dallas. Figured I'd let him miss me for a while. So we've taken to photos and Skype.

Damn hipsters.

He came to visit last weekend, and we had a great time browsing bookstores and drinking coffee. It reminded me how much cooler he is than me.

Meanwhile, I took a picture of this squirrel. Check out his junk.

Then we had some champagne.

Overall, a successful jump into politics world domination. I leave you with this warning.

I've lost my city feet.

I just got back from four days in New York. Bliss. (OK, two days in New York, two days in Jersey.) Photo essay samples in 3, 2, 1...

I went to MoMA and saw some fantastic art (albeit a lot of hoo-hoos and ha-has), downed my weight in pizza, bagels, and soy cappuccinos, walked approximately 29 miles in heels (atouristsayswhat?), and complained non-stop about the "cold" weather...which, incidentally, was the reason I wanted to visit in the first place. One huge disappointment? No hipster sightings whatsoever. What a load of crap.

Sigh...

 

*The last one is just photographic evidence that I am, in fact, taller than Shaunna.

Dissecting the Hipster, Part 1

I have no fucking clue what a hipster is. There, I said it.

I really thought all that mess was just kind of the style these days.

Now I just feel old and totally out of it. Clearly this means I have to start wearing nude pantyhose and orthopedic shoes and taking Metamucil and writing checks at the grocery store and keeping hard candy in my pocketbook now.

Hold the phone.

Let's wiki-pedia it. "Hipster is a slang term that first appeared in the 1940s, and was revived in the 1990s and 2000s often to describe types of young, recently-settled urban middle class adults and older teenagers with interests in non-mainstream fashion and culture, particularly alternative music, indie rock, independent film, magazines such as Vice and Clash, and websites like Pitchfork Media."


How about Urban Dictionary? "Hipsters are a subculture of men and women typically in their 20's and 30's that value independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence, and witty banter...Hipsters reject the culturally-ignorant attitudes of mainstream consumers, and are often be seen wearing vintage and thrift store inspired fashions, tight-fitting jeans, old-school sneakers, and sometimes thick rimmed glasses. Both hipster men and women sport similar androgynous hair styles that include combinations of messy shag cuts and asymmetric side-swept bangs...Despite misconceptions based on their aesthetic tastes, hipsters tend to be well educated and often have liberal arts degrees, or degrees in maths and sciences, which also require certain creative analytical thinking abilities."

So, hipsters are men or women, 20-39, who like art and music, wear cool clothes, including old-school sneakers and funky glasses, have good hair with side-swept bangs, and college degrees? That sounds like half the people I saw out last weekend. That sounds like half the people I know.

(On an unrelated note, make sure you look up your name on Urban Dictionary. Mine is crazy accurate.)

I am now on a mission to decode the hipster mystery. To help me with this, Sol and I are engaging in a friendly game of Hipster Bingo. This might be preliminarily unfair, considering Sol is actually from New York, the mecca of all Hipsterdom, and he has an automatically cool name, grew up without television and wears cool Elvis Costello glasses. Hipster? Hmmmm...

Time to study The Hipster Handbook, I guess. Game on.