Faux Hippie Hipsters & The Cranky Middle-Aged Lady Who Doesn’t Like Them

I’m pondering changing the name of this website to “Cranky Lady Leaves the House and is Cranky.” Now Part II of yesterday’s rant.

So after Low’s horrific 27-minute long assault on my ears, Bob Mould took the stage. Uncle Bob can rock like nobody’s business. Seriously. He tore through a bunch of Sugar songs, a few Huskers, some solo stuff, and then capped it all off with “If I Can’t Change Your Mind” which is probably on my Top 20 Favorite Songs of All Time List. Maybe even Top 10. I fucking love that song. I love that song so much that whenever I hear him play it live tears leak from my eyes because my body doesn’t know what else to do with all the joy.

However all the joy Uncle Bob brought to the cranky old lady was short lived, because in the middle of his set I was besieged by the a band of Faux Hippie Hipsters Who Ruin Everything.
fauxhippiehipsterassholes

You may not be able to tell from the picture, but the FHHWRE were a band of five college-aged kids. In my snapshot, only one of the three women is wearing the offensive headdress, however when they arrived two of them were adorned in offensiveness. You know that wearing hipster faux Native American headdresses is incredibly offensive, right?. Okay, good.

The third woman was wearing neon pink, knee-length leggings, a lavender tutu, a grey tank top, and red John-Lennonesque sunglasses. Oh, and thank you universe, she was also wearing full-on brief underpants. I thank the universe for this because she took the tutu off at some point and that left her leggings-covered ass to hover disconcertingly close to my face whenever she had to bend over to dig her American Spirit cigarettes out of her embroidered bag.

Speaking of tutu leggings, her boyfriend wore a matching pair of sunglasses that went well with his rainbow-tie, peace-necklace and vest. The other dude was wearing a silver, ruffly satin jacket that was probably part of some bridesmaid dress from the 80s. He also had a Lorax tattoo that featured a Truffla tree and the quote ‘I speak for the trees.’

From the moment they took up residence near me I was annoyed. It was like insta-annoyance and I could not hide my disdain. Every ounce of my cosmic energy was screaming “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” at them.

Was it the very obvious patchouli stink? The offensive head gear? The motherfucking hoola hoops? All of the above?

I wasn’t sure, and I’ve spent the past forty-eight hours trying to discern why I was so annoyed. I think it’s obvious that my reaction is more about me than it is about them. So what the hell is my problem?

Well, to begin with the hoola-hoops. Rock the Garden is not a hippie-type, hoola-hoopy event. At least not this one that I attended. The hill was crammed with people, the grass was wet, slick, and muddy. You need a lot of space to hoola-hoop, and frankly the space wasn’t there. That did not stop the Faux Hippies. If I had $1 for each person who was hit by a hoola hoop, I could get us all tickets to next year’s rock the garden.

Now that’s not to say my offensive Faux Hippie friends were not great hoola hoopers. One of them was really good, and when I could let go of my hate enough to just go with her flow, I sort of enjoyed watching. I might have enjoyed it more if any of the music at Rock the Garden was hoola-hoopesque, but the rhythm was off. So there was always a weird sort of discord or dissonance. Also, people trying to hoola-hoop to Bob Mould and Metric look ridiculous. It’s just not right.

So are their crimes against fashion, rhythm, and taste enough to merit such a reaction? Probably not, but damn I was just so fucking annoyed.

Their obvious and annoying ploy for attention drove me bonkers. They reeked of patchouli & look at me. And I’m not kidding about the patchouli, I had two friends stop by to chat and both commented it. And I wasn’t the only one annoyed by their schtick. All the people within a five-foot radius of me complained. At one point a hoola-hoop broke and a small cheer went up from the six or seven people directly behind me. This was followed, not 20-minutes later, by a groan of despair from the party next to me when she fixed the busted hoop with a sticker.

At one point I was so happy not to be alone in my disdain that I wanted to go all hippie and hug the people around me. We were united as one in our annoyance and that made me feel moderately better for hating on the Faux Hippie Hipsters.

I’ve chalked up my reaction as intolerance to a way of life I cannot understand. I don’t get look-at-me-ism.

As a large, freakishly-tall woman I have spent most of my life hoping people wouldn’t notice me. The points, stares, questions, bug-eyed-reaction to my appearance embarrases me and makes me uncomfortable. When I am out in the world I want nothing more than for people not to notice me. It rarely happens. Half the reason I got tattoos was to give people something to talk about other than my size (the other half was that I wanted them).

So, I don’t understand why someone would want to call such attention to themselves. I don’t know what they get out of it, and frankly, at an event where the attention is supposed to be elsewhere it seems rude to start a sideshow, and that’s what this was, a sideshow.

(Visited 272 times, 1 visits today)

9 Comments

  1. Brett 17.Jun.13 at 10:58 pm

    “They reeked of patchouli & look at me.”

    Wheez! Damn hilarious rant! Is it wrong, is it some twisted form of schadenfreude that I heave-laughed hearing of your pain? Wow, they really were the ‘lost generation’ (in more ways than one!)

    Sorry to hear Low got all ‘artsy’ – I really like a lot of their stuff, and dissonant guitars do feature in much of their work, but 27 minutes?! Sort of takes “When I go deaf” a little far, I’m thinkin’ … Ba dum bum.

    Reply
    1. Jodi 20.Jun.13 at 8:59 am

      At least when someone enjoys my deep pain I did not suffer in vain!

      Reply
  2. Peabo 18.Jun.13 at 1:00 am

    Dude, I got annoyed by them just reading your post. Here’s what irritated you….not their hipster-wanna-be-ness, or even the hula hoop….what irritated you was that you and I were raised in a “live and let live” generation. We put up with the crap adults handed to us with the promise that someday things would change and we would be in charge. These…people…are a part of a “I will live and you will watch me live and participate, however unwillingly, in my living.” They demand attention on a multi-sensory level, and heaven help you if you don’t give it to them. It flies directly in the face of everything we were taught when we were young: that when we grew up, we’d be able to do whatever the fuck we wanted. Now we’re grown up and these…people…are coming right up to our eyes, ears, and noses, right into our physical space and saying “Uh uh, pal, don’t go enjoying your own life–YOU MUST WATCH ME because I AM INTERESTING! And, moreover, if you are not watching me, I will have to stand on my own and realize that life is more than hula hoops and patchouli and I just can’t face that. SO WATCH ME AND MY UNDERWEAR!”

    Are you annoyed all over again?

    Reply
    1. Jodi 20.Jun.13 at 9:00 am

      I probably would be annoyed all over again if I wasn’t laughing so hard. . . not just because of what you wrote but because on Saturday when I was tweeting my annoyance someone replied to me with “@jodiwilldare Just live and let live.”

      HAHAHAHAHAHA!

      Reply
  3. Shokkou 18.Jun.13 at 9:09 am

    Pity the fools. They missed the Patchouli and Headdress era of the early 70’s and are trying to relive it the best they can. Having actually lived and partied and attended a lot of great concerts during that era, seeing those children would’ve been like some sort of twisted flashback brought on by the copious quantities of LSD i dropped back in the day. Good times. All they know about hippiedom they (apparently) learned from watching Woodstock. Just remember, there are worse people to emulate. For instance, the smell of nazi-wannabes brings out the worst in me. Add a hula-hoop to that nightmare and i’d probably lose my shit altogether. ;o)

    Reply
    1. Jodi 20.Jun.13 at 9:02 am

      There are worse people to emulate, you’re right. And my friend Wolfdogg gave me a small lecture on conflating hipster hippies with actual hippies. I can handle real hippies. I can’t handle Urban Outfitter hippies.

      Reply
  4. NBFB 19.Jun.13 at 1:28 pm

    i’m going to see Amaranthe in Mpls in July. They’re my most favorite Swedish metal band. And though you probably won’t like the music at all, I can say, with a reasonable degree of certainty, that there will be no Faux Hippie Hipsters, patchouli stink, hula-hoops, or any of that nonsense present.

    p.s. check out Amaranthe on spotify or pandora or what-have-you because THEY ARE SWEDISH-HEADBANGINGLY-TASTIC.

    Reply
    1. Jodi 20.Jun.13 at 9:03 am

      When I am Tibbleless tomorrow I am going to check out your Swedish Headbanging (which will probably scare me). I bet you might have enjoyed the 27-minute Low drone — you dig weird musical stuff.

      Reply
  5. Doug 03.Jul.13 at 3:13 pm

    Three words: spontaneous mosh pit.

    (I can’t believe you passed up that opportunity to yell “Get off my lawn! “)

    Reply

Leave A Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *