Mindless Internet-based fun

The Internet is full of gems, and today, seeing as I am on the verge of a mental breakdown and choosing to not do anything about it, I went out into the wonderful world of Internet entertainment, so you all won’t have to waste your time trolling your hipster friend’s Twitter.

First, I bring you a website which I have mixed feelings about; on the upside, I dislike babies, and teen pregnancies. On the downside, I dislike Internet short forms (for grammar’s sake). None the less, I bring you the joys of whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com – fantastic, right? I really like the Juno reference on page three:

 

becuz Juno is your favorite movie evr

"becuz Juno is your favorite movie evr"

Next, to the YouNiverse (also known as YouTube), where hipster films are starting to run rampant. We have all seen the Hipster Olympics by now, right? Well, I have new videos for you.

How to seduce a hipster:

SuperNews: Hipsters in space:

Now, if that isn’t minutes of mindless enjoyment, I don’t know what is.

Who’s afraid of the big, bad hipster?

Actually, I don't think Renee is that afraid of me.

Actually, I don't think Renee is that afraid of me.

 

When I first started out here in Montreal, I felt as if I looked like cousin It or something. Everyone would look at me, some even staring at me all class, but people were afraid to start up conversations.

“How could that be, Lauren? You are the vision of all that is good in the world!”

    I know, right? I soon figured out it was because I’m, apparently, very unapproachable. How did I come to such a conclusion? Well, in one of my classes, we were assigned to groups. No one in the groups would talk to me, however I was in a group full of idiots, so I felt the need to put in my two cents.

“Listen,” I would say, “we’re going about this all wrong.”

When people stopped their conversations and listened to me as if I had just rang the Pavlovian-response bell, I knew something was up. Later that day, someone from the group said they really appreciated my input, and that they were ‘very intimidated’ by me before. 

    I still didn’t understand why people were so afraid to talk to me, so I started taking my critical thinking to the next level. I sat in class and analyzed myself. I sit in class, MacBook Pro in front of me, with my Grado SR60s on. Now, my Grado’s have this really great feature, which essentially cancels out any sound which could hurt my hearing. So when my music is playing, everyone around me gets a taste, even if I’m listening at low volumes. The possibility of anyone in my classes knowing who I was listening to were so slim to none that I blocked all conversational possibilities.

    Next came to my posture. I pretty much sit like a guy; legs apart and outstretched, showing off my skinnies and overly-disheveled sweatshop-free, vegan high tops. I slouch into my chair, in a very relaxed manner, mind you, and I sport a look of general indifference. Unless of course, we start talking politics, human rights violations, or the environment, then I sit more forward, and nod in a way that says “I’m part of this discussion, even though I’m not saying anything, because I want to give the beginners a shot.”

    My choice of reading material could have also been deterring. I read Bitch when it came to magazines, and I’m currently working on a book about gender in modern political theory, which just happens to come with a holier-than-thou cover, and a Toronto Women’s Bookstore bookmark.

    Clothing wise, I’m always in some kind of skinny jeans, with high tops, and cycling cap of sorts. Topwear varies day to day, from organic hoodies, to politically incorrect vintage tees, to organic plaid, to all things American Apparel. Plus my messenger bag is always with me, and everyone knows which bike I ride.

“Hey, aren’t you the girl with that really sweet red & white fixie?”

    “Why yes, yes I am.”

    The only people brave enough to talk to me are other hipster-looking people, or complete idiots. There are a lot of complete idiots. I applaud those who talk to me, and I enjoy the non-verbal communication which goes on between myself and the other, older, hipsters. The mutual up-down has become a regular thing for myself and a group of other social-elitists. I’m hoping to run into them at a bar, and I will invite them back to my holier-than-thou looking apartment for some Stella and Death From Above. 

    Speaking of my apartment, yesterday I was surveying my surroundings, and I thought to myself “damn, I’m cool.” Usually I wouldn’t say such a thing, but Xan and I got into a conversation about how she wanted to start long boarding, cycling regularly, dj-ing, and get a better handle on photography. I realized that I had all those things. Well, I’m not a very good dj because I buy indie records, and no one wants to scratch their Elliott Smith’s. 

    I also have a “party fridge”, I say this because at one point, I had so much beer in my fridge, placed right above the crisper, that there is a huge crack in the plastic, due to the sheer weight of beer. 

    “Awesome!”

    In conclusion, don’t be deterred just because I waft cultural superiority, I’m really not trying to. I’m just “in style” these days. In a couple months I’ll be a has been.

    Oh, and this is just a quick tip to anyone who wants to stay ahead of the curve. I will even bold it for you. Half cabs are the new high tops. So buy some now. I think I’m going to start giving social-elitist fashion advice. “Social-elitist” is the new, more politically correct way to say “hipster”, just so you know.

[ First posted: 23/10/08 ]

It’s my first day, and I had to take the bus.

 

Usually that's how I call them all in... or I leave a trail of flannel.

Usually that's how I call them all in... or I leave a trail of flannel.

I’m sitting outside my classroom in the CJ building right now, and I arrived a half hour too early. If you’ve seen my most recent vlog, you know I’m intimidated by my prof already. So I guess coming early is better than coming late, because apparently they just lock you out? What the hell, that’s not how it happens on television!

    Anyways, I’m sitting here, I don’t know anyone, and I’ve seen less than a handful of properly dressed people. I thought that university + Montreal = fashion savvy, thrift store worshipping, hipsters. Apparently, I was wrong, and people are even less fashion forward than they were at Richview. And that, well, that’s just embarrassing. I don’t want poorly dressed friends, but I don’t want to be a loner. I have a feeling this is going to be some sort of an epic cool friend-finding uphill battle. I never thought I’d be using “uphill battle” and “epic” in explaining how I’ll find friends. This looks bad.

8 hours later…

    So I caught this girl checking me out in the “tell us who you are” segment of class. I can’t remember her name because I only started listening when the prof glared at me. But I digress, I turned my head to look at the girl who was telling us about why she chose journalism, and our eyes locked for a good five seconds. Then she turned away smiling, looked down at her desk, and brought her head back up, still smiling. It was definitely a moment. Almost enough of a moment for me to warrant putting it on Craigslist missed encounters (I’m not even going to put a link there, you know where the page is, don’t lie to me). However, I’ll see her next Monday, so there’s really no reason to do so.

    Now, back to this bus ride which I never addressed. It was horrendous. Free, but horrendous none the less. You see, as a cyclist I know nothing of streets. I care not about whether it’s a one way, whether there are bike lanes present, whether there are streetcar tracks, or anything of the matter. I know north, south, east, and west. I know major intersections, and really that’s all I feel I need to know. Well, I haven’t figured out north, south, east or west. Nor have I been to any major intersections. So when it came time for me to leave for class this morning, I had to choose between making it to class and riding my bike 7 km in each direction until I ran into the other campus. I chose the former, and a good thing too. The prof, bless her Naomi Klien-esque heart, was a stickler for time, but she knew all about Burma, and she’d spent months in conflict zones. And that is just hot. I’m not saying I like her, but I admire her. Plus I can’t be late now, there are hot women awaiting!

    I cleaned my whole apartment today, and I think I’ll have to clean it again tomorrow, because my feet are still turning black. Yesterday it was really really bad. Today, it’s better, but still, I don’t want these dirty floors. I really hate the guy who was so messy to leave literally layers of grime on the floor. My water/vinegar floor cleaning solution was opaque when I poured it out. And honestly, there is not a lot of floor here, so that blows my mind! I hate messes, seriously, I can deal for a little while, but I get fed up really quickly. especially with my new bed coming in Friday, I want my room to be pristine. My sheets are white, too, and I’m not washing them every 2 days because I have grimey floors. On the upside, I have no pets to clean up after, so once I get this place into working order, I have no one to blame but myself, and that’s the way I like things to be. 

(First posted: 02/09/08)