The other night I was at the bar and got talking to one of those guys with a curly-cue mustache. The Rollie Fingers mustache, if you will.
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| "Top 10? More like Top 1." |
I asked him how long it takes him to do that in the morning, and it sounds like quite an ordeal, styling it and spraying it down and all. And if he doesn't do anything, then it looks like a Fu Manchu.
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| "I may not have the curls, but can you guess where this pinky thingy goes?" |
He went on to tell me that he won 2nd place in his category in a facial hair contest. My first question was what the name of that category was (because it really should be the Rollie Fingers Category). He said it was "Freestyle Mustache." Oh. I then asked how many were in his category, and he said there were only three. I let him know that he also placed 2nd-to-last. I was buzzed a little and speaking freely . . .
But also I just hate hipsters with stupid facial hair, piercings, and just dumb stuff like that in general. You're not a turn of the century boxer. You work for Whole Food, or whatever, and when you're late for work and don't have time to style your 'stache, your coworkers call you Fu Manchu Fuck Face. And when you're primped up beautifully, they call you Old Boxing Photograph Fuck Face.
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Fight? I thought we agreed to a Mustache Contest?
Not all styles are coming back en vogue or are somehow ironically cool. When does it stop? Do you want to throw on a powdered wig and be all 1700's? Probably if a true hipster saw people wearing the wigs, he would get really pissed and go back to a look from 50,000 years ago and just throw on a loin cloth and go to the bar and sip his Pabst Blue Ribbon.
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So I guess the conversation with the weirdo from the bar was still in my head because yesterday I'm driving in the car, I'm a little lost and crabby, a hipster with a terrible old-timey mustache is crossing the street and I find myself yelling "Fuck that guy!" He wasn't doing anything wrong - just crossing the street like everyone else. I just couldn't take it any more. I actually caught
myself off guard with my sudden outburst.
Am I out of line here, or has the hipster thing worn thin with anyone else?
4 comments:
I guess Rollie Fingers probably only pitched an inning or 2 a game so he had plenty of time to style his mustache. Don't know what the outburst was about... maybe you are angry about the time Rollie Fingers tricked Johnny Bench in that World Series game.
'Hipster' died with 2010. What we have now is a Hipster Dystopia. A saturated subculture full of people trying to differentiate themselves from each other by doing the same things. Beards are the latest thing that these people are into but are allegedly disappointed by being 'like everywhere now'. Anybody over 23 who's still lives this way is probably pathetic.
I'm at prime hipster age.. Lots of my guy friends have flirted with "ironic" facial hair, and I can't even count the number of girls I know who have that bizarre "I dress and do my hair like it's the 1950's but I'm covered with tattoos and cuss a lot" thing. What with the internet and all, there's pretty much no such thing as a subculture anymore. A kid with wifi in Siberia has as much a chance as a kid in NYC to be into anime, goth metal, or stupid mustaches.
The hipster code of conduct is so in everyone's face that I get where your outburst comes from. End of the day those guys will eventually shave, and you'll be stuck yelling and shaking your cane at someone with a fancy hat, or whatever the new big thing is, instead
Fungus: That's true about Rollie. He spent most of the game in the bullpen, carefully curling the ends of his mustache, driving his teammates nuts. Until that moment when he comes in the game and gets everyones's ass out. Then they love him and his stupid facial hair again.
Fredulous: I agree. Maybe just have something interesting to say and you won't need the stupidest looking beard in the room to draw attention?
Jov: I can't WAIT to add the cane into my old man outbursts. It will give me more authority. And a lawn of my own to tell people to get off of.
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