Important lesson I recently learned: don’t wear white socks. If you’re absolutely, positively sure that no one else will be noticing your feet, I guess you could pull them off for a day. But maybe your work pants are riding a little high when you’re at your desk, and that ankle disgraced by white cotton will get you busted. They are watching you. Or if you’re like me, you’ll find yourself unexpectedly taking your shoes off at a last minute dinner party. Then it’s curtains to you. The hipsters will see it. They will smirk. You will feel self conscious. And it won’t matter if you know they are huge d-bags.
As I’ve gotten older I’ve found that two types of people have dinner parties. People who are either real adults or are at least pretending that they’re grown up, and hipsters. Neither of them have anything interesting to talk about, although hipsters in particular don’t seem to realize this about themselves. Old people will talk for 3 hours about their digestion problems and they know that it’s boring. They just don’t care about impressing anyone anymore. With hipsters, even though you are committing the adult act of hosting a dinner party, it’s still fucking high school. If you’re the host, you want to show off your amazing place, because fuck everyone else. If you live in a dumpy 1 bedroom, who the hell are we kidding, no one is coming over for dinner. Sure you can come by and have a beer, but then get the hell out of here before you realize I don’t own a broom. But if you’re hosting a dozen hipsters at your place? Its braggadocios city. You sure as shit want everyone to know that they can all fit comfortably in your carefully-decorated-for-public-viewing-earlier-that-day digs. Whether your parents paid the rent/down payment is completely irrelevant. Now come look at this Beetlejuice poster I found in a dumpster. (Amazon)
What you wear to a hipster dinner party is sadly like choosing what to wear to prom. Only instead of spray tans and cheap jewelry you have ironic t-shirts and thrift store bargains that need to be believed (Can you believe I only paid $7? Can you believe it?! Soo good. I can’t believe it.) Be sure to remember your oversized sunglasses (at night), your tight ass pants (men and women), and your fucking high tops to tuck them into. And I go back to my original point: God help you if you are the only person at a dinner party with white socks. Apparently every asshole thinks its cool to wear weird socks now. Grow men wearing purple and orange stripes. Okay. Argyle is cool again. Got it. Dress socks with ratty jeans and a Bunghole Liquors t-shirt. Right, I’m sure you just came from work in this. I like the host the best. He had one white sock and one black sock. Because he only lives there, I’m sure he doesn’t have two matching socks at his place. Or that he didn’t realize it when he was putting them on. The old “I just grabbed the first two socks I saw” trick. Fucking hipsters.
It’s a good thing there’s food at a hipster dinner party because that should help you feel better about being a white sock wearing nerd. Unless you like meat. I thought it used to be only hippies who were vegetarians, understandably protesting the shitty treatment of animals. Now it’s a hipster thing too. Do you know how many chemicals they put into chickens each day? Do you know how many chemicals I knowingly put into my body everyday? Shut the fuck up and give me some meat. But I think the most enjoyable part of being a hipster is telling people just how much they don’t miss meat at all. That and how amazing these new vegan recipes they found on some trendy new blog are, (yes, please continue to explain the versatility of beans for me!). Also good to know: despite being supposed trend-setters, hipsters are not immune to the gluten free trend. You haven’t lived until you’ve had gluten free tacos filled with grape tomatoes, avocado (soo good), cilantro (oh my god soo good), and whatever hipster version of lettuce they will serve you. Just eat like 50 of them and you’ll be almost full.
Don’t forget to wash them down with the 5 different pitchers of homemade Sangria that they made with fresh fruit from their absolutely, totally real personal garden that they in no way made up. (How are you growing fresh oranges in Vermont? In November?) Apparently everyone there learned to love Sangria on their trip to Spain. Going somewhere in this specific country is mandatory to being accepted. Every obscure part of Spain is accounted for by the end of the dinner party. And somehow every part is not just amazing, but without a doubt where they will retire someday. This is particularly amusing since most of them currently don’t have full time jobs (they must make a lot more money off their blogs). Pretty much every meaningful story takes place in Europe, South East Asia, or Central America. It appears that is where the best food, music, clothes, and architecture can be found. I guess the 99% of their lives that take place in white American suburbia are boring enough to not talk about, but not shitty enough to leave behind. What do I know? I’ve never been to Spain. I wonder if they have white socks there?
Conversations at these dinner parties are just… not fun. Even drunken hook-up stories turn into faux romances…while abroad in Spain. Knitting, skateboarding, and snowshoeing have someone swung around again into cool hipster hobbies. Often people will talk about mustaches, craft beers, or riding their fucking bicycle as well. Everyday conversations about trivial things like music and movies become pissing contests. “I don’t think anyone has watched more Kurosawa films than me. “ “Yeah, you’re probably right, but I really only like Japanese horror films by (insert obscure Japanese horror film director here).” Yeah, I saw Lost In Translation, that took place in Japan. It opens with Scarlett Johansson’s butt and it has Bill Murray in it. Btw, just watched Groundhog Day recently. Still funny. :Crickets: :Crickets: I’ve already wrote about music before but suffice to say if you go to a dinner party you will learn the following things about music; obscure artists are the still the best, electronic music is back like it’s the late 90s, people still beat off to Michael Jackson, and every good band has at least one non traditional instrument, most likely a cello. Because the cello is soo…[pause and nod your head down hard] good.
These aren’t my friends; I was only invited as a date. My girlfriend has been to Spain and wasn’t wearing any socks so I was allowed entrance by association. Of course I don’t know anybody there and as proper etiquette suggested, the male host (the other bf only tangentially connected to the main group of friends) did me the favor of talking to me when he knew I was feeling like an outsider. And he did have that one white sock on so by all appearances he was at least trying to be an open-minded soul. We talked for awhile about sports (who doesn’t like gambling on football?), Arrested Development (Come on!), and work (he actually has a job too!). He honestly seemed like a nice, normal guy. However, he does work from home, and he did mention that he will often take long lunches to go on hikes. Alright. He actually bought this house in the woods because of the access to numerous trails. Well if that makes you happy. Do you like hiking? Sure, I try to go..hiking…sometimes. But let’s just be honest here. Fuck hiking. Not that it’s morally offensive, and it’s good for your health so yeah just keep on hiking. But seriously it’s walking along a path in the woods. If I lived 300 years ago, I would be concerned with having multiple clear paths through the woods. Because there were no roads. What is going on in someone’s brain where they go walking through the woods and say, “My god, that was fun. I can’t wait to do the same thing tomorrow only that path will be more steep. Maybe I’ll see a Cardinal!” Does is get any better? “And the next day I might stumble upon a large rock where I can eat my gluten free cucumber and hummus wrap.” Well home could you not move there? Prime fucking real estate.
I guess I’m just old. I’m the digestion problem guy with the dirty apartment. I’ve never been to Europe, and I’m not going to retire in Costa Rica. I love meat and bread. And sure I drink random craft beers but I’ll never judge anyone for preferring a Sam Adam’s Octoberfest. It’s still fucking delicious. Good Will Hunting is my favorite movie and I won’t pretend that I listen to anything Modest Mouse came out with before Good News For People Who Love Bad News. Hiking is boring, riding your bike to work makes you a sweaty, unprofessional mess, and I don’t give a flying fucking what is in my food. Hell, I don’t even think Sriracha is soo.. good and I won’t miss it one bit if their factory really closes down. Get a hold of yourself people. I can’t help but feel that everyone who graduated in the last 5 years is just a dumb hipster and I shouldn’t care what they think. I know people agree and think they’re insufferable pricks just as much as I do. But I’m still a self conscious baby afraid to wear white socks in public. Fucking hipsters.