(via styleandsubstance)
Texting You Back in a Timely Fashion
Let us suppose that a hipster girl named Marni is out on the town with a gaggle of other hipsters, kickin’ it at a local watering hole’s massive experimental jazz dance night. She recently met a hipster boy when she was at her friend’s DJ thing at that bar that no one goes to anymore, but she went because, you know, Liam is at least trying to make something of himself (even though he lives in Jersey and gets wasted pretty much every day). For some reason she and this dude with an impressive neck tat started talking. She was struck by his passion for the Irish author James Joyce and his piercing blue eyes. He was struck by her knowledge of French New Wave films and the fact that she touched his arm a lot. They exchanged digits. They haven’t actually gone out yet, but have been volleying back witty texts about the cinematic score of The Virgin Suicides and Neck Tat’s slight Napoleon Complex for days now. It’s late. Marni is feeling kind of lonely/blue, so—bolstered by whiskey and against the advice of her friends—she shoots a text to Neck Tat (who is entered in her phone as such, as she does not give romantic interests real names until they earn that right—they never do).
To: Neck tat
Hey, I’m at Trophy Bar, if you’re around.
Sent: Thurs, Nov 12 11:45 p.m.
Marni stares at her phone for the next hour and a half. She puts it in her pocket, set to vibrate so that she will know when Neck Tat deigns to answer. She wonders, frantic, whether she’s fucked things up by contacting him as the minutes tick by.
Meanwhile, Neck Tat, sprawled on the floor of his friend’s loft, receives and reads the text immediately. He put his phone back on the floor next to the pile of empty Tecate cans and ruminates on what to say. No fucking way is he going to answer after, like, five minutes like some kind of desperate clod. No.fucking.way. After the requisite hour and a half, he flips open his phone.
From: Neck Tat
I’m at home. Come by and hang with me.
Received: Fri, Nov 12 1:15 a.m.
Marni, being smashed out her mind at this point, texts him back immediately, asking what his address is.
Back at Hipster Douchebag headquarters, Neck Tat peeps the text, flips his phone closed, drains a Tecate and settles in for about 30 minutes before the next text. Marni continues to drink.
That’s right, children: Although technology has made it possible for us to contact each other in mere seconds, hipsters have de-evolutionized the concept of communication, taking us back to the dark ages. You might as well send a fucking telegram, because the average hipster texts at the speed of a carrier pigeon.
(Photo)
nailed.
OMG MOTHER
i dont know how i am going to survive the holidays. really. the last two years were easy to manage because living near my parents was still new and exciting. and both times i was in the throes of moving and thus too busy to notice them circling and waiting to nag nag nag.
this year…..its inescapable. i have made a deal with the devil herself and i agreed to share a ride with my mother every tuesday and thursday morning to work. during these trips she (no joke) takes out a list of things she wants to make sure i have taken care of (including…but not limited to have i fixed my vaccuum cleaner? have i found my mail key? did i get a new power cord for my work computer? did i give the box of chocolates to my neighbor as a gift? did i pay my amex bill? did i water my plants? did i take down my halloween decorations?) and proceeds to ask away.
i am seriously THISCLOSE to cancelling my trip to portland for thanksgiving. i CANNOT handle them any longer. and they are INESCAPABLE!! they LIVE A MILE AWAY FROM ME!! and therefore EVERYTHING is their business. or at least they think it is. last night my mother called my cell phone and the man whose cab i left the phone in answered.
when she got ahold of me her first words were “SO YOU LOST YOUR PHONE??!??” and has spent the entire evening stressing and (i kid you not) NOT SLEEPING thinking about the implications of a cab driver in boston having my phone.
My parents are a thousand miles away and fear that I am becoming psychologically and spiritually dislocated. There is a tense fear in their voice as they talk to me and a desperate hope that things will turn around for me and they do what they can from 1000 miles away.
Trade you circumstances for a season or 9.
The Ubiquitous Brandon Jennings Update:
Jennings had 19 points, 8 assists, and, on a bad note, 8 turnovers. On the positive side, Bucks got the win over the Nets.
(Photo by Gary Dineen/NBAE via Getty Images)
YOUNG MONEY!
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Beach Boys - Don’t Worry Baby
sometimes all it takes is a sweet little ditty to make me feel better. this is hitting the spot this morning!
Is it too much to ask…?
