Dear readers, please assist me with my moral quandaries.
Someone suggested I be an American Apparel model for Halloween, which would entail wearing stupid glasses and gold lamé, and tying off my arm with rubber tubing - We thought tract marks would be excessive. The only catch is that to get the right look I may have to actually purchase something from said store, which would effectively negate my non-Dov-Charney-panderer cred. It just doesn't seem likely that I will find that token, over-the-top badge of hipster identity anywhere else in a timely manner. So please, channel your heartfelt advice into the poll that outlines my plausible options.
What do hipsters and my next topic have in common? Ray-Bans and waning sex appeal.
I watched Carlos, the heavily fictionalized film on the life of Ilich Ramirez Sanchez last night. Gangster stuff is right up my alley so I was pretty satisfied with the first 2 1/2 hours of Edgar Ramirez looking pensive, shooting people, and being, overall, dead sexy. Sadly, all it took was 5 minutes of dozing off in the final stretches of the film for Carlos to go from being the chain smoking, leather jacket wearing definition of cool to being a sweaty lipo patient with a kid and a swollen testicle, the definition of washed up.
He is currently serving a life sentence in France. Conclusion? Even the sexiest hipsters end up as fat, desperate alcoholics.
Someone suggested I be an American Apparel model for Halloween, which would entail wearing stupid glasses and gold lamé, and tying off my arm with rubber tubing - We thought tract marks would be excessive. The only catch is that to get the right look I may have to actually purchase something from said store, which would effectively negate my non-Dov-Charney-panderer cred. It just doesn't seem likely that I will find that token, over-the-top badge of hipster identity anywhere else in a timely manner. So please, channel your heartfelt advice into the poll that outlines my plausible options.
What do hipsters and my next topic have in common? Ray-Bans and waning sex appeal.
I watched Carlos, the heavily fictionalized film on the life of Ilich Ramirez Sanchez last night. Gangster stuff is right up my alley so I was pretty satisfied with the first 2 1/2 hours of Edgar Ramirez looking pensive, shooting people, and being, overall, dead sexy. Sadly, all it took was 5 minutes of dozing off in the final stretches of the film for Carlos to go from being the chain smoking, leather jacket wearing definition of cool to being a sweaty lipo patient with a kid and a swollen testicle, the definition of washed up.
He is currently serving a life sentence in France. Conclusion? Even the sexiest hipsters end up as fat, desperate alcoholics.
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