Every now and again, rarefied gems of such exquisite hipster stupidity come along that beg to be shared with everyone on the internets. See: Cobrasnake, shirts with ironic sayings printed on them, BANGS, auf’d condoms/swapping STDs and good old, trusty old American Apparel! The various blogs and bulletins hipsters post on myspace.com and the like are a veritable goldmine for this sort of thing. A treasure chest full of premium hipster idiocy, trust fund baby spit-up and temper tantrums. Here is where I collect the best of the worst and present them for your (dis)pleasure.

Welcome back to But Enough About You…the hipster overshare portion of the week where my douche is your douche! I feel bad about this one, a little, because I know the girl. Yes, she’s flaky. Yes, she’s fabulous. And yes, it’s true, that whilst dining at the buffet of contemporary feminism she often makes unwise choices. After all, doesn’t everyone know that if you must partake at the buffet, for God’s sake don’t go for the shellfish? Or the potato salad? DURR.

The following gem comes from someone who once lectured me on being a good feminist, believe it or not:

last night i was feeling terribly broke. i turned on my computer and was surprised and delighted to be able to hop onto my neighbor’s wifi. i looked at craigslist. the “etc” jobs. nothing good. i looked at erotic services and saw that a man was looking for panties. $40 per pair. i emailed the guy and instead of giving me a lot of email runaround, he said we should meet right away. he said how about 3:30 tomorrow at a nearby coffee shop? he said can you please put on the panties now and don’t take them off till you come to meet me? he said if you have a minute could you try to masturbate in the panties between now and then and get them good and “crunchy?”

so i went to the cafe to meet him today.


You know, if I were inclined to sell my panties (and I would never, ever sell my panties), I’d be like “Hey, you pervy bastard, you want some crusty panties? Motherfucking PAYPAL me that shit, boy, and you’ll get panty galore via mail.” Then I’d go buy a pack of clearance panties and write “What happened to you when you were a little boy that made you so sad and disgusting? These panties are sterile, creepshow. HELLA STERILE.” in Sharpie.

I mean, seriously? IN PERSON?! Like in a seedy brown paper bag? Ziploc? Toxic waste container? Pls. to fan me on the fainting couch in the comments, you crazy kids!

*Contributed by SkinnyBoneJones*