I HATE! Assholes - Part Deux

I have a confession to make. I (gulp) wore my sunglasses on the subway last week. I know! I know! It's awful. But I had a really legit excuse for committing such an egregious hypocrisy. And you know that I wouldn't have worn sunglasses inside unless I had a really, really, really good excuse... I can only afford to look like that big of an asshole once or twice a year!

The excuse is as follows: I went to the dermatologist last week one day after work for a follow-up appointment. My first visit was rather tame - a consultation really - so I wasn't expecting anything too different the second time around. The doctor, apparently, had other plans and immediately went to work on my face. She wiped off all of my make up (with a towelette that was so saturated with alcohol that it could have been used as an anesthesia substitute) and then proceeded to poke and prod my face with some sort of crazy-looking metal tool that I initially thought to be a medieval instrument of torture.

To put it bluntly, I left the doctor's office looking like my face got stuck between a rock and a cheese grater. I had planned on reapplying 'my face' before I went back out in public, but the doctor had just blown up my spot by saying that the "large amount of make-up" I wear was probably the reason for my clogged pores, and even though I am somewhat vain, I'm not a glutton for punishment. So in lieu of the make-up, I searched my purse to try to find something that might help me to conceal my battle wounds. Save covering my entire face with a tissue, the best I could do was my (brand-new!) sunglasses. In MacGuyver-like fashion, I managed to create a disguise for myself using only the sunglasses and my hair, succeeding in almost completely concealing my identity (and the cheese-greater face). Brilliant!

Don't mind the lengthy transgression - on to the real point of this post. So here I am, walking the streets of New York at dusk idiotically wearing sunglasses as if I'm hiding from the paparazzi. I am already self-conscious enough at this point because I'm feeling super hypocritical, like a real douche. After all, I'm the one who always makes fun of those who do just what I was doing at that instant - wearing sunglasses despite the lack of sunlight. If I could have seen myself, I'm sure I would make fun of me.

Anyway, as I'm making my way to the subway, I begin to notice that people are staring at me, without even trying to hide it - just blatantly looking me up and down with expressions ranging from the stifled, cynical smirk to the completely unbridled sneer of disapproval. Let me make something clear to all the morons I encountered on the street that day: just because I am wearing sunglasses does not mean that I am blind and cannot see the way you are looking at me! Are you people retarded?!?! Correct me if I'm making assumptions here, but Ray-Ban Wayfarers usually aren't the type of glasses that might indicate that one is blind. While you may not be able to see my eyes, I can certainly still see yours AND that horribly judgemental expression written all over your face!!! My dark glasses do not obscure my view of you or any of the other people checking me out (sleazy businessman in cheap suit) or giving me undeserved dirty looks (overly made-up middle-aged woman carrying the wonky-eyed lap dog).

I'm the one wearing the sunglasses! I'm the one who should be secretly judging people! If you're going to overreact to me, my appearance, or the fact that I'm wearing sunglasses at dusk, at least demonstrate a little bit of decorum and try to hide your judgement! It's the only way to be :-)

P.S. I just found out that there is actually a song called Sunglasses at Night written and performed by a fellow named Corey Hart. He wears his sunglasses at night so he can "watch you weave and breath your story lines" and also so he can"keep track of visions" in his eyes. Hmmm... I'm not sure I approve.

I HATE! People Who Stare at You for No Good Reason

Maybe I’m paranoid (and I'll admit that I've been told that on several occasions), but, I swear, I people are ALWAYS looking at me strangely! I'm talking obvious glares here. I don't understand it. I always thought I was a pretty generic-looking person; there's really not that much to look at. I'm not grossly overweight. I'm not stunningly gorgeous. I'm not a ginger kid. I don't have any physical deformity. I'm not a Siamese twin. I generally don't dress particularly wacky or revealing. Truth be told, I'm pretty average looking.

So unless I’m walking around with my face melting off, there’s no excuse for someone I don’t know to grill me for a good 30 seconds as I walk past them. Maybe I’m hideously ugly and no one has ever told me. I guess there's always the possibility that I have an extra head growing out of my neck that I wasn’t previously aware of, but if neither of these is the case, there’s absolutely no reason for me to be generating the menacing glares of so many strangers. It just doesn’t make sense!

I freely admit that I check people out as I’m passing them on the street and certainly I like to people watch while I’m waiting for the subway or riding in a cab, but I NEVER spend more than 5 seconds scoping someone out, and when I do, it’s usually because I’m admiring an outfit or coveting a perfectly groomed mane of hair. Completely innocent.

I will also admit that I've been accused of walking around with a generally nasty and/or mean expression on my face, but I swear, it’s only when I feel I am being glared at that my eyes linger. And if this is the case, I am usually, by that point, giving that particular person one of my signature dirty looks or the stink eye in retaliation.

Needless to say, if I felt that someone was staring at me with admiration, desire, lust, or even jealously, I would walk on by, secretly happy that I had generated such feelings in others, but that scenario just never seems to be the case. It’s always the disapproving look from the middle-aged woman or the death stare from another female twenty-something. Can’t a girl get a break?

Recently, I have developed a new method for handling those who try to bore holes in my head with their eyes – give them a look that’s to say ‘What? Do you have something to say to me? Keep staring at me like that and I’ll rip your head clean off your neck.’ That usually does the job.

I HATE! Hipsters

I think it's safe to say that living in New York City has made me slightly more sensitive to this particular issue than might be considered normal. My justification is thus: New York City and the surrounding borough of Brooklyn seemingly birthed the Hipster trend and therefore, these two boroughs boast the most concentrated population of Hipsters.

As I work in Manhattan and live in Brooklyn, I literally cannot escape the Hipster influx. But before I get ahead of myself, let me explain, for those of you who have been fortunate enough never to have come across one of these curious creatures, what exactly a Hipster is.

You can normally find a Hipster traipsing or sulking around the Lower East Side of Manhattan, New York University's Washington Square campus, or the Williamburg neighborhood of Brooklyn. The Hipster uniform consists of tight, usually black, skinny jeans topped off with a studded belt and black Converse All-Stars laced up tightly. Band tee shirts, hoodies, or leather jackets tend to complete the look. Dyed jet-black and/or spikey hair and innumerable piercings are optional, but a true Hipster (or a really-dedicated poser) will have all of the above. The Hipster sulks, or sometimes skateboards, around his chosen haunt with an air of superiority, looking down at anyone who doesn't comply with or adhere to THE LIFESTYLE.

Now, to be honest, I'm not sure exactly just what it is a Hipster does, other than shoot non-Hipsters dirty and disapproving looks. I've heard they're artsy and like underground bands and eccentric art, but really, who knows? I think they may like to skateboard as well. I'm sure there are also ALOT of posers who just try to look the part, but, like me, don't really know what the intimate details of being a Hipster entail.

Don't get me wrong - I am accepting of ALL lifestyles. I don't care what you do...as long as you're not an asshole to me as a result. And this brings me to my main problem with the Hipster: no joke, everytime I've encountered one of these so-called Hipsters, I am given a dirty, disapproving, or "You're Beneath Me" look. Just because I don't wear suffocatingly tight black skinny jeans and Converse All-Stars everyday of my life, does not make me a bad person. Just because I don't wear my hair black and spikey doesn't mean I'm not intelligent. Just because I don't rock the studded belt and leather jacket EVERYDAY OF MY LIFE doesn't indicate that I'm not capable of stepping outside the social norm.

As I said, I am no stranger to the Hipster. I went to NYU. I work in Manhattan and I live in Brooklyn. Hipsters are more common than taxis in this city. And I've NEVER met (or even just walked by) a Hipster that didn't shoot me one of THOSE looks. Seriously. I kid you not.

So I pose this question: What makes the Hipster feel as if he is so much better than the rest of us? And also, since the "Hipster Movement" has ballooned into such a huge phenomenon and all "Hipsters" now dress the same, each dressing in the same unisex uniform, doesn't that make them just as bad as the rest of the population?

Thoughts? Maybe I should take on the Hipster persona for a few days and see what new information that leads me to. Perhaps once you put on the combination of the skinny jeans, studded belt, band tee, leather jacket, and Converse you just instantaneously morph into the Hipster, both in appearance and attitude. Maybe it's like Captain Planet..."With our powers combined..." - that sort of thing. For example, instead of saying "Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, Heart" you say "Tight Black Skinny Jeans, Converse All-Stars, Studded Belt, Leather Jacket, Black Spikey Hair" and then it just happens - the Ultimate Hipster appears before you in the mirror. I think I'll try it this weekend. I'm pretty sure I own all the components of the Hipster uniform. (Not that I've ever worn them together!)

Look out world - if you thought I was bitchy and insane normally, it may be about to get ALOT worse...

Hipster Liz anyone?