So I’m recently kind of obsessed with pretending to be the worst type of hipster ever and now this blog also. Perhaps my obsession is even bordering on pathological because I had to start a tumblr account for a fictional hipster named Cindi today to get it out of my system. Follow it and imagine she’s real and get endless laughs.

That being said I have a new game. Take a one of Jenny Holzer’s Truisms and replace a key noun with “hipster.”

• A lot of hipsters are crackpots
• A hipster means a lot just by itself
• A hipster can’t know what it is to be a mother
• A strong sense of hipster imprisons you
• Absolute hipster can be a form of freedom
• A relaxed hipster is not necesarily a better hipster
• Abuse of hipster comes as no surprise
• Hipster is just as dangerous as complacency
• At times your hipster is truer than you conscious mind
• Being hipster is more important than anything else

Endless hilarity guys.

Yesterday, Time published an article about new findings on the physiology of the gay brain.

Scientists at the Karolinska Institute studied brain scans of 90 gay and straight men and women, and found that the size of the two symmetrical halves of the brains of gay men more closely resembled those of straight women than they did straight men. In heterosexual women, the two halves of the brain are more or less the same size. In heterosexual men, the right hemisphere is slightly larger. Scans of the brains of gay men in the study, however, showed that their hemispheres were relatively symmetrical, like those of straight women, while the brains of homosexual women were asymmetrical like those of straight men. The number of nerves connecting the two sides of the brains of gay men were also more like the number in heterosexual women than in straight men.

The article continues, basically explaining that homosexuals are superheroes with the best powers of both sexes, “it may turn out that the brains of gay men possess only some ‘feminized’ structures, while retaining some masculine ones.” I take this to mean that my brain has the reasoning and emotional capacity of a woman with the strength and appetite of a man. Quite an argument for the homosexual agenda!

This got me thinking about my own brain. I couldn’t help but make a diagram of my brain and notice how actually it seems to be less the brain of a gender queer super being and more the brain of a dirty adolescent boy… Picture after the jump. Read More!

Army of Lovers is the greatest disco gender bending mind fuck to exist ever. I discovered this in February thanks to a DVD that came by way of a friend’s dad’s gay Georgian lover named Jacko. I literally had forgotten all about it until yesterday, when as I was leaving the Metropolitan barbecue, as per usual, and Army of Lovers “Crucified” came on whatever mix the bartender had put on inside. These videos transcend space and time. Just brace yourself.

I totally danced around in the shower singing this to myself this morning. As weird as it is, it’s still totally catchy.

So my bestie Erin and I had the greatest experience of a lifetime yesterday. The kind that you know you’ll never be able to beat, even if you win the lottery and gain the abilties to fly and teleport. I’ll just let her introduce it. Take it away, Erin:

After 5 p.m. my job gets really boring. I tend to sit at my desk and refresh my Facebook mini feed for the two hours that follow, while cleaning my nails with an industrial paperclip. What’s that! There’s something in my inbox!

“I work with whitney port on the hills and she spoke very highly of you. Wanted to get in touch if you are still livinng in NY. Please call. [number redacted]. thanks Adam DiVello”

What?! This can’t be real! I love Whitney Port! Yet, it is a love that can only exist when people do not actually know Whitney Port, and her sweet, sing-songy, slightly nasal tone when she says, “It’s really hard work here but prolly you could get an intership or something.” God Bless Whitney Port.

This was very exciting to me when I received her gchat about it. Erin prefaced the message by mentioning the Facebook message was her “favorite Facebook spam message of all time.” Since a phone number was attached I offered to call it and see what the deal was, expecting to get a machine advertising penis enlarging snake oil that can provide pure sensual delight for my lassie and make me a new age pleasure machine. Surprisingly someone actually picked up. The following conversation is per my memory: Read More!

I’m finally brewing my own kombucha just like I always wanted!! Here’s a picture of the baby good friend Josh Thorson handed off to me at the last Metropolitan BBQ.

That’s the kombucha in front of the beers. I seem to have successfully avoided contamination and have moved it into a jar/jug with sweetened tea that it is happily fermenting. Read More!

Get ready for me to geek out. Probably two people who have ever read this blog will find this interesting. As a result, almost all of this is behind the jump.

So I work for an undisclosed company on undisclosed web projects. Point is, I saw a proposal from an anonymous corporate communications company today that made me vomit into a bag when I left my cubicle. Read More!

WHY ARE YOU STILL ON THE SHOW?!?!?!?!

Seriously, every week the judges complain about how Lisa doesn’t season her food properly. In my eyes that’s a cardinal sin and shows that she just has no tastebuds… because all of her “confessionals” are her talking about how her “flavors are there.” There’s also tons of clips of her tasting stuff and pondering whether it needs more salt or sweet or whatever. I just want to grab and twist her neck fat every time she makes a negative comment and acts overconfident in the ability she doesn’t have compared to the other chefs. Read More!

So this last weekend was a big movie weekend for me. Not only did I see Sex and the City but I also saw a superior but still awful movie called The Strangers. I went in with fairly high hopes for a trashy, fun horror movie, but unfortunately its only redeeming factor was that you get to see [SPOILER ALERT, ASSHOLES!!!] Liv Tyler get gutted like a fish. Reasons why the movie failed:

• Scott Speedman does not get naked.
• The killers were totally unexplained. While I realize that was the point that was supposed to make them scary, they would be WAY scarier if they were made out to be crazed meth addicts. I mean… really if you’re out on a killing spree at 5am I have a feeling you had a date with Tina that night, and the faces of meth are terrifying (with the exception of the one lady who just turns into Helena Bonham Carter from Harry Potter). Basically I never understood why they had what seemed to be super powers and secret access to any room in the house.
• Overuse of the gimmick where the killer lurks in the background of the mise en scene unbeknownst to the protagonist on screen.
• The masks the killers wore that concealed their identities the entire movie just weren’s scary.

And on that note, I had some ideas for some masks the killers could wear that would definately make the movie 3.7 times more terrifying (as confirmed by my anecdotal market research of friends via Gchat). Read More!

Guess what? I did you all a huge favor. I made some crappy clips of the movie on my tiny hand held videocam, so now you NEVER have to see the movie because you can see all the pivotal scenes and female squealing you want right here on the interwebs. I broke this down into the three key scenes anyone might see this horrible endorsement of both consumerism and the general enslavement of the female population.

#1 Carrie changes into some outfits.

#2 The pivotal scene where Big leaves Carrie at the altar.

#3 And of course, Charlotte pooping herself.

Now that I’ve made your life complete you can go ahead and hang yourself with your chunky belt you got at Anthopologie because you couldn’t afford Marc Jacobs. That is unless YouTube has taken these down by the time you read this… let’s see how long this lasts.

Last week I cashed in all my Marlboro Camel dollars and scored a trip with reporters aboard Hillary Clinton’s airplane. And I have to say, I may be an Obama supporter but the junior Senator from New York has certainly become more of person whom I can relate to, namely, she marries her DRUNK with the EEMS. That said, what follows is a transcript of of my trip:

Hillary: Weeeeeeeee! *hick* I’m so glad we’re besties. You win. I win. This’s been one, weeeeeee—wait, wheres my cellphone? Wow. It’s been one helluva primary, right, Health Care? Read More!