Hipster Hop

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Look man, I've had too much catnip and I need this. Screw your hangover.

I like to coin new phrases and terms. It’s just something I do from time to time. Although it’s not like I just sit around in my underwear and think these things up just for the sake of it. I just come up with them when I find that accepted descriptive phrases don’t quite cut the mustard in describing how I see something.

Last night me and some of the usual suspects navigated our way to some shady warehouse in the distillery district for the INQ/Vice party. It was hot and sweaty and filled to the brim with hipsters. I should have known that anything having to do with Vice magazine would attract the thickly bearded, ironic tattoo, horn rimmed glasses crowd. As soon as we were checked off the list some girls in lab coats handed us little spray bottles with what was supposedly pheromones.

When in Rome do as the Gibsons do.

The music was actually pretty great – the DJ even did an awesome mix using the theme song from Growing Pains – and the crowd was pretty much all hipsters so I called it a hipster hop and then went to the open bar to double fist huge cans of Asahi. At first I scoffed at the pheromones but as I the loudmouth soup kept coming, the idea of smelling like sex on wheels appealed to me so I found the event photographer, posed for him, and emptied the entire f***ing bottle all over myself.

It either worked or I was so sauced on the free booze that I may as well have thought I was Johnny Casanova.

All in all it was a good time once things got going. I did get a chance to see the INQ phone, courtesy of “Doctor” Megan but I’m not sure how I feel about it just yet. Maybe I’ll run into the INQ folks again and get a chance to really test the phone out, which looks and feels very much like an older blackberry curve with trackball. Oh and they had a wall full of donuts.

Here’s a mashup of some of what went on at the shindig.

At the Hipster Hop, no one can hear how much you love American Apparel