The Unhipster

we sell tomatoes and things…

September 19, 2014
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i recently went for a lovely country road jog in midcoast Maine, where i saw this sign advertising the sale of tomatoes and god only knows what else.  i’m no rhodes scholar, but i’m fairly certain there are rules around the use of “etc,” the main one being: you should not use it after listing one lonely item. we sell tomatoes and…some other things, and we’re going to assume you know what those “other things” are. peppers? fresh live bait? explosive pyrotechnic devices? this is Maine after all and downeast folks don’t fuck around.

i have no idea what else these creeps sell besides tomatoes, but i was tempted to follow the arrow simply because their marketing tactics were brilliant and my curiosity had entered the level of “dangerously and irrationally high.” which is the level just below the one where your curiosity caves and you go to find out what the mystery vendor sells besides tomatoes, only to realize that something is you, and you’re now the property of pirates off the north Atlantic coast. so i continued jogging home.


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herbs for the end

August 19, 2014
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yes, i admit i have picked up some Kick-Ass-Immunity herbal supplement drops while waiting at a Whole Foods checkout line. no, they did not work.  neither did Cramp Relief! (at least not as well as 3 Advil and a Twix bar).  if i’m putting droplets of a bad whiskey-tasting substance on my tongue, it better be actual whiskey.  the folks over at Wish Garden Herb Remedies may be marketing geniuses for bottling up some Yerba Manza root, Valarian root, Black Cohosh root, or any other root they can dig up, and calling it a cure for everything.  but if you ask me they’re just bat shit crazy.  Mo’Beta Belly, Sexy Time, Emotional Ally, Genius Juice, Welcome Womb (“quiets the uterus”) … if you’ve got an issue, they’ve got the answer.  can’t get over that bad break-up?  can’t pass your trigonometry quizzes? can’t get that uterus to shut the f*** up?  you haven’t been taking your Wild Yam root.

but oh! listed in “Other Ingredients” for every one of their products is: Rocky Mountain artesian spring water. i wonder how they got their hands on such a valuable substance.  magic in a bottle.  and a wink wink to the shareholders.

so today i saw a new remedy: “Get OVER it!  herbs for the end.”  the cryptic labeling had me very worried.  is there some sort of apocolyptic event on the horizon that i’m not privy to, and yet the Wish Garden Herb Remedies think tank has already tested and approved the perfect potion to prepare for it?  $17.99 is pretty steep for two fluid ounces of anything, but being part of the winning team on judgement day is priceless.

i have since learned, through some investigative web browsing, that the “end” they’re referring to is the end of a virus. boring.  these are drops you can take when your “cold has got a hold” – because oddly enough that Kick-Ass-Immunity you took at the first signs of the sniffles did absolutely nothing.  i’m hoping they will soon concoct an elixir for Buyers Remorse because i’m starting to feel some symptoms.

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tips for a good night sleep

September 19, 2013
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lavender is supposed to help you sleep, or so i hear. a lavender bath balm before bedtime will ensure uninterrupted REM cycles all night long.  but when you’re bathtub is the size of a large sauce pan, bathing for relaxation isn’t really a thing.  i could always use a little extra help sleeping because you can’t take Ambien every night.  i suppose i could, but then i’d technically be addicted to something and i like to pride myself as not having an “addictive personality” (except when it comes to smarties, gummy bears, or other similar non-chocolately chemically processed sugar candy).

back to lavender. i once had a friend who bought a bottle of lavender spray at Bed Bath & Beyond, which she kept on her night stand and would spray above her bed in the evenings. brilliant, i wanted to do this but i hate the parking lot of BB&B more than i do tossing and turning.  luckily i was able to find a little bottle of lavender spray at my local grocery store. for two months now i’ve been squirt squirting the magical sleep spray maybe 5-6 times above my bed, on my pillow, in the general vicinity of where sleep happens. it’s been nothing but glorious; it smells good, it’s soothing, i’ve been sleeping better.  yesterday, i read the label on the bottle, apparently for the first time.  it’s hand sanitizer. that’s right, hand sanitizer. in fairly large font. “spray into palm, rub hands together, kills 99.9% of germs.”  oops.

i haven’t been sick in months.  try it.

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vintage apartment available

November 21, 2012
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while perusing Craigslist for rental properties i curiously clicked on a listing that read “Vintage 1BR Apartment.”  perhaps my copy of Webster’s is way out of date, but when did the definition of “vintage” become “piece of shit rat hole you couldn’t pay me to live in”??  If this is a joke to lure and laugh at vintage-loving urbanites, well…huh, nice work i suppose.  but something tells me “Jessica” from Pinnacle Real Estate Management is not that cunning.  the fact that one of the six “rental features” advertised is a freezer really just says it all (note: there is no mention of a refrigerator).  that’s like a hotel advertising they have beds.  its an assumption i’m pretty sure we can all make.

here is a picture of the beautiful “vintage” exterior.

nothing says”vintage” like generic grey carpets and small single-pane windows. 

but MOST impressive is this “vintage” toilet. irresistable.

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an evening read

November 20, 2012
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pixie enjoys a good web browse now and again.  here she is, taking in a funny Gawker article.  though she generally prefers cat-ish activities such as eating everything in sight and spreading litter pellets all over the house –  especially where the floor board meets the wall – every once in awhile she’ll engage in cerebral exercises.  thank god we have the same type of humor…although though her reading skills are well below what they should be (i blame the republicans).

i walked home

November 20, 2012
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i just walked the 24 city blocks home from my office, in business casual attire, wearing the equivalent of outside slippers (Toms), while listening to a 3 minute and 13 second Carly Rae Jepsen song on repeat.  i have no idea why i did that and i feel no different now, outside of the small realization that 1. perhaps i can exercise patience after all and 2. i may be slowly going insane.

i could have taken the bus, called for a cab, or called for the ride that was already offered to me.  i could have listened to one of the numerous playlists on my ipod.  i made a decision (devoid of logic) and went with it.  though i spent the majority of the walk silently congratulating myself for keeping my cool under this self-inflicted irritating circumstance, there were fleeting moments (emphasis on fleeting) where i actually stopped the cognitive activity of analysis and acceptance and just noticed the things in front of me: dogs out for their evening poop walk and urban landscape.  the owner of a toy chihuahua said hello.  yeah, my toes were cold, my purse was too heavy, “Call Me Maybe” was quickly losing its catchy appeal, but i consciously chose to not get annoyed…it took every fiber in my body, but it worked.  perhaps it was a forced perspective, but the reality that ensued was this: i spent 37 minutes burning a few calories, learning which streets temporarily have no sidewalk access, and thinking about the merits of buying a used volvo.  all in all, not unpleasant.

now if i could only learn how to apply this same maxim to my job.  HAHAHAHAHAHHA!  37 minutes of cardio and monotonous radio pop is not the same thing as a corporate office prison cell that you will likely inhabit until the age of retirement.  try again Gandhi.  there is certain enlightenment that most certainly can never be attained.

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don’t put it on your bumper, it goes in the trash

November 13, 2012
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i’m going to start a list of bumper stickers that need to be banned. the list is going to start with this one.  and it’s going to include every other bumper sticker that was ever made.

while we’re at it, i wouldn’t mind getting rid of all the RAV 4s…

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take off those croakies

July 25, 2012
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here is one observation from this past weekend: there is an exorbitant amount of croakies in boulder, Co.  unless you are cranking some epic edge (that is rock climbing lingo) or setting sail on a catamaran from martha’s vineyard, or i suppose if you don’t have ears to hold the sunglasses in place, i don’t believe you should be wearing these things.  yet i’m pretty sure i saw 2 out of every 3 people in boulder wearing them.  and i was not standing in line to scale the flat irons.  i was engaging in normal sunday human activity, drinking at brunch.

here is a man making good use of his croakies, in an appropriate setting

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POP goes the POP phone

July 21, 2012
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so, my experiment with voice comminication on a cellular device was very short lived.  the recently purchased, precious yellow POP phone went POP!  evidently, these little products can’t survive the 2 foot drop from couch to floor.  i’m torn between writing a letter to the manufacturer or forking over 20 bucks for a new one.  customer-is-always right satisfaction vs. instant gratification. maybe both. you can never have too many POP phones around.  especially when they break after a week.

R.I.P…sleep softly, little man

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just another dumpster-dive

July 3, 2012
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in case you were wondering what happens when you do some late night dumpster-diving…let me just inform you: 

jenga truth or dare pieces end up taking occupancy in your apt.  at the time, naturally, it seemed like a brilliant find.  and how dare someone disrespect the Parker Brothers that way.  so they found a new home, temporarily, until i come to terms with the fact that i was actually born during the Jimmy Carter presidency.

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