South Beach Diet and Other Things

I'm not sure if it's the South Beach or a celebrated lack of Sertraline hyrdochloride in my system (Zoloft, it makes you fat, ask your shrink.) but I've lost a little weight. Yay. Dearest boyfriend is pleased, although not as much as I am.

I've moved into an apartment for the summer and it's pretty sweet. The walls I mean. Someone coated them with candy. (Not really, I just need to get out of the habit of describing something positive as "pretty sweet" if the thing I am not describing is not a food product that contains sugars, or small children, as I am neither a surfer nor a jackass.) But yeah, cooking and privacy, not to mention a closet twice the size of the one my that parents share, is a gratifying and somewhat new experience.

I'm reading Elizabeth: The Struggle for the Throne. I guess I'm just like everyone else that has a Tudor fascination lately. I was slightly mollified when I grabbed it off of the display at Barnes & Noble, then I remembered that I'm not a hipster nitwit and just enjoyed my book. The intense focus on her early life is excellent reading, not dry at all, however the author's selective bias in the research bothers a former history major. When the author used "I" the first time I assumed that it was the roman numeral, then I realized that "One believe that..." doesn't make sense, and that David Starkey broke the rules. If I can't use "I" in an essay in college then you can't use it in a supposedly historical book, and a spanking will be in order for the violator!

Chronically Misunderstood != Hip

Really now...

You wear t-shirts underneath jackets.

Of course this is not a new t-shirt from Target or Old Navy or even from your favorite band's website. Oh no. It's a band shirt you "bought at a thrift store for seventy-five cents."

Your jacket (which you also bought at the thrift store) still smells like old man because you spent all your money on your hair gel and couldn't afford to wash the smell of decrepit old age out of it at the dry cleaners.

If a band you like gets radio airplay they've "sold out" and you don't listen to them anymore, even if you do still like them. This is to maintain your "indie cred."

Your hair is always in your eyes. Not because you need a haircut. On the contrary, you've cut your hair so that it looks like you still need a hair cut. There is so much pomade shellacked into your bangs that your pompadour is weighed down into your eyes.

You walked past the Democrats table at Rock the Vote today and proudly commented on how grown up you are because you support Ron Paul.

Let's break this down: You were at Rock the Vote, which is sponsored by MTV. How can you be a hipster and like MTV? It's like being a gay Republican. You support Ron Paul. This makes sense to your hipster sensibilities since he's an "indie politician," that hasn't sold out to his constituents or anything. But it's Ron Paul, so your support for him negates your status as an "adult."