The World's Last Hipster

Why I May Be the World’s Last Hipster. If you’re reading this, chances are you either hate hipsters with a passion, or you have a passionate desire to be a hipster. If you’re the latter, it’s likely you already call yourself a hipster. However, if you were in the first category, it’s possible that you actually are a hipster.    What is a HIPSTER? [   If you are way to hipster to even know the term hipster, stop reading right now. You’ve lived a nice life. Don’t ruin it for the sake of hipsters. ] Most people know what a hipster is, or at least they have some idea. A hipster, in its original form and meaning, is generally  a person who doesn’t conform to society norms or stereotype. Hipsters say they want to be different, they don’t follow trends. At one time, there had to be a real hipster. Someone who just didn’t like the trends but liked unconventional things and followed them. And I admire that person. They were a real person who only cared to do what they liked, not what anyone else liked. They were a true hipster.   The evolution of the HIPSTER: That first hipster must have seemed like a pretty neat person, because others began jumping on their bandwagon. People renounced their old likes and instead favored the same likes of the hipster. People began battling to out-difference and out-weird the other hipsters. Gradually, being a hipster became a trend, and with that, every hipster became a hypocrite. The original goal of the hipster was to not follow things simply because they were cool. But when hipsters became cool, people started being different so that they could also join the hipster trend. Hipsters became the most hypocritical people on the planet. They renounced trends to be Hipster, but to be Hipster was to follow a trend, and on it went, until the hipster became the common, stereotyped beast it is today. I found a really good definition on Urban Dictionary to highlight what I’m saying here: (hip-stur) n. A 20 something white, upper-middle class suburban transplant to any gentrifying neighborhood in any major city, but Brooklyn, NY in particular. Disheveled, hand-me-down appearance to present the image that they are not a slave to trends or fashions(ha!) They typically wear thick, Andy Warhol-like glasses (whether they need them or not), unshaven, unkept shaggy hair and retro Converse sneakers sometimes with no laces. The term is often used as a pejorative considering a "hipster" detests being called a "hipster."     Who is the last HIPSTER? I’ve always hated hipsters. I thought their look was ridiculous and so was the fact that they were their own fallacy. I rejected their ways, I thought I was just happy with the trends, thanks. But as I grew older, I noticed that I didn’t follow the trends. For example, the “in” clothing changed, and I did not. I wouldn’t just wear whatever I saw on a Mannequin, I still had my own sense of style – nothing outrageous like a hipster, and nothing that even comes from a category or trend, my style was simply what I thought was cute. So when bright red jeans and flowed pants became popular, I hung back. I thought people looked ridiculous in them, I was happy sticking to my blue jeans, skirts and yoga pants. When all of my friends started buying smartphones, I continued making calls on my Env3, which I regret to say that I regarded as “adorably vintage.” I asked my friends why they wanted an iPhone when they already had an iPod and a regular cellphone. Weren’t those the same thing? Why would you want a phone so big? Why would you want  phone that breaks every time you drop it? I thought my Env3 was perfectly efficient. A good size, free internet, a seemingly unending memory and indestructibility were included among it’s features. I once dropped it in a river, it was fine. Once it sat outside in the road for a rainy week, getting soaked and run over constantly. It still turned on. The Hunger Games came out and the world went crazy. “Read it!” All my friends said. “It’s so good!” They said. I picked the book up and immediately thought, “What a badly thought out rip off of Battle Royale.” Before the Hunger Games came out, I could have told any about the concept of Battle Royale and they would have thought it sounded sick and disgusting. But the Hunger Games, which suddenly became popular was, according to my friends one of the “deepest, most touching stories” they’d ever read. I realized that I had a tendency to dislike trends, and when it occurred to me that that made me a hipster I grew angry. I didn’t want to be one of those stupid brainwashed followers. I even found some trends that I did like, and I was so proud of them, as if they were my shield against being a hipster. But that is why I am the World’s Last Hipster. I don’t follow trends, I do what I want. If I like a trend, I follow it. If I think the trend is stupid, I turn my back on it. Hipster-wannabees are not hipsters because they are trying to follow the hipster trend. But I am not, I think the trend is stupid. And the fact that I am don’t follow trends and also have no desire to be a hipster, ultimately makes me possible the only true hipster.*   *I guess I may not be the last hipster. I’m actually sure there is someone out there even more hipster than me. But I have not found them yet, although I would like to. Together, we could wipe the hipsters out and just be who we want to be.   -Tramp Now that's just funny.

The Hooker Anthem

In this world there are many people-

Of every race, every size, with brown hair, with blue eyes

Some are fat, some are thin, some are mean while others grin

They're all great, but they're not first rate!

Cause the very best kind of earthling

Is the kind clad in only a G-string

Donning red lipstick, making hearts tick,

For money, she'll suck any old dick

The best type of person is a hooker

They get action, even if they're not a looker

Everybody likes a prostitute

(Except those guys who stab them and hide their bodies in the laundry chute)

But hey! That's what pimps are for

They protect those awesome whores

Everybody loves to see a bimbo

Bending back to do the limbo

& Some horny guys like to take them home

Those hookers know how to make them moan

Then the hooker gets paid for giving naked hugs

and she spends the money on illegal drugs

A few days later, she'll come crashing down

and the story comes back around

some desperate guy with shoulders slumping

pays the hooker to do some humping

Yes it's true, everyone likes a tramp

They'll sex you up until you get a cramp

You can try any position

Without asking their permission

Touch em', whip em'. suck em', spank em'

Just as long as you don't shank them

Later they will buy some pot

While you're still feeling spicy hot

Yes a hooker leaves guys feeling good

When the girlfriend's "not in the mood"

If a guys just hit the bank,

he'll be delighed to come acrosss a skank

When the girlfriend's away he can take a chance

and pay a hooker to seductively dance

By taking off her dress,

the hooker relieves you of your stress

It's great how when you're all alone

Somewhere there's a hooker for you to bone

Yes it's true, a hooker makes a day better

When she reveals whats beneath her sweater

For some, a hooker is the only way

to lose their world-of-warcraft loving virginity!

It only costs a couple bucks

To ensure that you're night wont suck

And that's why everyone loves a whore

They're willing to give you sex galore!

But it's not always sexy magic

Sometimes hookers leave things tragic

The girlfriend finds out, requests you leave her be

and meanwhile you've contracted an STD

It's better to have a ball and chain

Then to have your reproductive organs in fiery pain

And the hooker who made your penis a rocket?

She only cared for the money in your pocket

And while you're dealing with infected loins

She'll be off spending all your coins

And if you think your lifes gross?

she's just died of a drug overdose

Now her body's gone so limp

and you owe money to her pimp



Ultimately, it would be best

To have stuck strictly to your girlfriend's chest

If only you had kept your class

While waiting for your sex drive to pass

Then you might not be alone and single

With only your right hand to help when the testicles tingle.

Vacation: Demon Dad

Vacation.
My heart breaks a little each and every time that word is uttered. This summer Tramp and I took a brief but magical vacation.
It was filled wiith beautiful sights

such as pictured above.
And yet even though this is all magical and beautiful the one emotion that clings to me still to this day when I think of our vacation is fear.
It all started on a hot summer afternoon. . .
Tramp and I were at her grandfathers house which just so happened to have sprawling meadows, miles of forests, hunting forts, swamps, you name it. Her grandpa was also in possestion of a golf cart. Tramp and I being the simple beings that we are were constantly preoccupied with the cart. When we weren't watching talking monkeys in the house we were cruising through the acres in that old jalopy. Which is exactly what we were doing when IT happened.
Tramp was driving at a comfortable pace and everything was right with the world, teh breeze blew past and we held a light happy conversation, but then I noticed something. . . It was eerily quiet. Where were the birds? The bugs? The deer?
Then it happened.
"GRAAAAHHHHHH!"
The noise was directly behind us, knee jerk reactions kicked in, Tramp slammed on the gas peddal as we both spun around to see our attacker. Tramps father was right behind us waving his hands and making strange noises the whole time.
In all truthfulness he probably looked like this:

but to me in that moment all my brain showed me was this:

We drove as fast as we could, at that point simply because he was chasing us.
The paths that ran through her grandfathers land weren't complicated in any way so the whole family pretty much knew them like the back of their hands. We were on a path that would led us through the forsest for a while and then have us pop back out into a medow like area. Of course Tramps dad, being on foot could cut through the grass and get there must faster. There would be no way to avoid him. Turning back I saw him stop running and point over to the other side of the trees. He was taunting us, telling us his exactly plan but also knowing we had no way to avoid him.
As he sprinted off to go hide to scare the crap out of us again, Tramp and I had one of our silent conversations that comes from being a brain twin.
T: We can't let him get us again
V: OH DEAR LORD THAT SCARED ME SO BAD
T: Hmm your right we'll have to turn around and try to get him!
V: I THINK I JUST PEED MY PANTS I WAS SO SCARED
T: So what your saying is we'll need to go on foot for the last leg of the journey so that he won't hear the golf cart coming
V: WHY DID HE LOOK LIKE A DEMON?!
T: Alright lets go!
With that we made an ill fated turn that made a large mark in the tall grass on either sides of the path and we were off.
Tramp and I raced to catch up with her speedy dad and finally we caught sight of him. Thanking our lucky stars that he was partially deaf we stopped the car a few yards from where he was sneaking through the grass trying to see us in the forest. Tramp crouched low and moved through the grass right behind her dad. Seeing as I didn't have shoes on I crawled on the shorter grass of the path from a few feet away.
Unbeknownst to Tramp, just a few steps ahead of her hidden by the tall grass was a huge ditch, so when she lept out and screamed "GRAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" she landed inside of said ditch and was not able to climb out in time to stop the following from happening. Her fathers demon face was priceless, he was shocked to say the least. But then a few things occured to both her father and I simultaniously. . .
If we were here on foot...
Then where was the cart?
Tramps dad and I shared a look before the race began.
I jumped up from the ground and dashed towards the golf cart that was sitting still running in the middle of the path. The demon shoved through the grass and was neck and neck with me for a long time. It was unknowable for a time with Tramp screaming at me to run as fast as I could and my heart leaping in my throat. I felt as if my whole life has led up to this moment. I added on an extra burst of speed at the very last moment, slid into the cart and stomped on the gas pedal.
The golf cart lurched forward not so fast at firts but gaining speed. It zoomed past Tramps dad and made it to where Tramp was waiting in the path. She jumped in while the cart was still in motion and we rode into the sunset feeling accomplished and avenged.