“Hipster Bi*ch”

Good afternoon dear readers!

My roommate Alejandro and I had the tremendous privilege of having a part of our South Dakota “Fam” over for Thanksgiving. We had an absolute blast, and to our big surprise, we somehow managed to fit all our bodies into our ridiculously small apartment — mostly because none of us are afraid of intimacy, but still.

One of the highlights was the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Together with 3.5 million people, we dressed up in our best Dakota-coats and braved the cold.

With our friend SpongeBob. Jacob (Halfway cut out of the picture to the left), me, Jess (on my shoulders), Katelyn and Alejandro. Photo: Random stranger.

While parts of the group went to watch a Broadway musical on Friday, Jacob and I enjoyed a relaxing night at home. When we, at around midnight, decided to go grab a slice of Joe’s Pizza down the block, I was already in my pyjamas and decided to just jump into my boots and long winter coat instead of changing. I told Jacob that “We live in the hipster capital of New York, so I can totally get away with it. Nobody will even notice.”

Well, as we turned the corner a car with rolled-down windows slowly passed us, and out came the sounds of a person yelling:

“HEY, HIPSTER BITCH!”

Okay. Apparently, people did notice, and I did not get away with it, haha.

I honestly thought it was hilarious, and decided to take it as a sign of a successful integration process into the Williamsburg neighborhood.

Last time I made that same stylistic choice (at a motel in Minnesota when I had to escape from my friend Rachel’s apartment after a severe allergic reaction to her cat. Read more HERE) I was indirectly accused of being a prostitute, so I should’ve known it was bad news. Oh well, the things we learn.

Anyway, it was with a heavy heart that we had to send Jacob, Jess and Katelyn off at the airport last night. Thankfully, Gabi came flying in to fill the void.

Thanks for the best Friendsgiving evah, Fam. Love ya.

XOXO,
Maria

 

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