Dear People Who Live in Fancy Tiny Houses,
Do you actually love living in a fancy tiny house*?
You look so freakin’ happy in that Dwell Magazine article or Buzzfeed post, but c’mon, you can’t tell me that you don’t lie awake at night, your face four inches from the ceiling because the only place your bed fits is above the kitchen sink which also acts as your shower, and think, I’ve made a terrible mistake.
Look, I’m not criticizing you. I commend you for making this giant leap. Since we humans seem comfortable with pillaging Mother Earth of all her resources, I believe more people should think like you. But 250 square feet? What the hell happens when your tiny house partner farts Mexican food farts, huh? Where do you escape to? Nowhere. You have nowhere to run. All you can do is walk three feet to the other end of the house and pray.
Or maybe you can run out into the tiny forest surrounding your tiny house.
I f’ing love the idea of downsizing and living
Update 10:45AM 5/19: The GM has written a response to the petition. You can read it here.
This past weekend, I spotted a petition going around from the “Wheatsville Staff Solidarity Collective Austin” asking that the beloved Austin co-op grocery begin paying their employees a livable wage. Employees at Wheatsville currently start at $9/hour, and the petition asks that their pay increase to the City of Austin’s living wage recommendation of $11.38/hour. As a person who has worked in the customer service industries, including clothing retail, tech retail and restaurants, the pay disappointed me but did not surprise me. What did surprise me was this paragraph in the petition: “We, the Wheatsville Staff Solidarity Collective, speak on behalf of all the Wheatsville employees who are routinely overstretched and undersupported by shoddy managerial practices and a corporate mentality that prioritizes sales-to-labor ratios far above employee well-being. There is much work to be done in
Are you a fan of storytelling? Do you love The Moth?
Tomorrow night I’m hosting a storytelling event at LIVESTRONG HQ, and I’m super stoked about it.
I had been wanting to put together a night where cancer survivors and non-cancer survivors alike felt empowered to share their stories in front of a receptive audience. With the help of two of my teammates, that wish is now a reality.
The theme is “new kid on the block,” and our guest speakers have ten minutes to share their stories. I can guarantee the night will be filled with a lot of laughs and some tears.
If you’re free tomorrow, stop by 2201 E. 6th St., enjoy food and drinks on us and listen to some kick-butt storytellers.
The event is free and starts at 6:30PM.
Details below and here.
Lately I’ve been on a kick of reading non-fiction by female authors. I share this unextraordinary observation because for most of my life I’ve been a lousy lady supporter. I grew up idolizing male rock stars (I mean, who doesn’t want to be David Bowie?), I had more interest in male-driven cinema (like I had a lot of choice) and I romanticized being a Kerouac or Hemingway, drunk and bitter.
(Let it be said that I’ve been madly in love Stevie Nicks since I was 15 years old.)
I don’t know where my bro allegiance stemmed from, though I have theories that I was an old Jewish man in a former life. I guess I just couldn’t relate to a lot of famous ladies. The Madonnas and the Beyonces and the Gwen Stefanis and the Jennifer Anistons have been stripped of their womanhood; they’re now cartoon versions of themselves. They drip thousands of dollars worth of jewels and designer wear, detest being photographed in an imperfect state and they live a life that is totally unrecognizable to other
LinkedIn recently notified me that I was celebrating a work anniversary: Hipstercrite is six years old.
In truth, this blog is seven years of age; it was conceived from a volatile relationship between me and Los Angeles. Eight people read the site then. It was called PlasticLA, and I mostly wrote passive profiles on the men who dumped me (I’ll never forget that one asshole who thought he was James Joyce).
Six and half years ago is when I left my career in Los Angeles and moved to Austin to work on my writing. My first year in Austin I worked two jobs and a total of 60-70 hours a week, but I made sure to chronicle my adventures of being a stranger in a welcoming city. Everything about Austin inspired me; the local community helped revive my creativity, which had laid dormant for the five years I was in the City of Angels.
And I guess I’ve never stopped writing on this damn thing. Some months I’ve written multiple times a week; some months I’ve written only once a week (like
(Update: I wrote this blog post in 2012 and just updated as of April 28, 2015)
There are an ass-load of awesome blogs in Austin, Texas.
(I think) I read a statistic somewhere that Austin has more bloggers per capita than any place in the country.
Since I have zero proof that Austin has the most bloggers of any place in America, one fact I do know is that Men’s Health Magazine labeled Austin the #8 most socially networked city in America.
Since we boast such awesome blogging talent, I wanted to create a comprehensive list of Austin bloggers for those interested in the Austin scene. We have amazing writers who cover everything from lifestyle, music, food, humor, travel and dating. Take some time and get to know these great Austinites.
If you don’t see one of your favorite Austin blogs listed that may be because a.) I’m only listing blogs that have blogged within the past six month and blog more than once a month and b.) I’m a jackass, I didn’t know that the blog existed
Recently I “met,” in the wonderful way that the Internet allows us to virtually meet, some of the folks behind the San Francisco-based startup Yerdle. Yerdle is a free market-style app where users can easily upload photos of stuff they no longer want, “sell it” for Yerdle dollars, and then use those Yerdle dollars to purchase other items for sale. In other words, it’s Craigslist without using real money (the only money spent by the buyer is a $4, $5 or $6 flat rate for shipping).
I got really excited when I learned about Yerdle. Not only is it a avenue for purging items you no longer need, it also makes you reimagine the concept of money. Yerdle empowers the community to establish their own economy, and it’s already grown a large and fervent following.
It can be a little discouraging upon first thumbing through the goods people post, but don’t let that fool you. Once you get the hang of the app, you’ll discover some real gems. A handful of my favorite finds have been a 60s
Last week, I posted a survey for my mom and dad friends wherein I asked them about the nitty-gritty of childbirth and childbearing. As a woman in early 30s, marriage and kid stuff has been on my mind lately. Not because I’m itching for either, but because I’m at the age where I have to think about it. No more goofing around in my twenties; the future is here, and I gotta figure out what it holds. As an only child of divorce, marriage and kids aren’t really my bag. Since I was a little girl, I related more towards the slightly depressed, child-less artist type, but as I’ve gotten older, this affection has softened. I do not have baby fever, but the prospect of not extending a branch of my family tree makes me sad. Plus, my partner and I are weird enough that I think our kid would be an awesome little weirdo.
I was thrilled with the responses I received from the survey. Fifty-six moms and dads answered, and many more left thoughtful, insightful and interesting comments on my blog post
I’ve never been a girly girl.
I don’t like the color pink.
I’ve never gotten a manicure or pedicure (I even have difficulty saying the words “mani & pedi.”)
I like men’s clothing, but I don’t wear it all that often (I own two top hats, three suspenders and six ties).
My fashion icons are Annie Hall, Maude Chardin, the Marx Brothers, lesbian graphic designers and John Jolie Pitt.
I often forget that my eyebrows need grooming.
I don’t own a a pair of kitten or peekaboo heels.
I don’t own anything with animal print on it.
The only type of alcohol I like is straight tequila.
With all of that being said, I love the f out of sparkles and glitter.
I especially love that type of glitter that appears in retro vinyl and bowling balls (I used to own a pair of red glitter Sketchers that I named “Elton” for the left and “John” for the right).
I decided that my bike helmet needed a splash of sparkles, so I super glued plastic rhinestones on the entire thing. It took
I’m getting to that age where I’m thinking about kids.
And it’s not baby fever. F that. (Though babies are kind of squishy and cute.)
It’s more like, “Shit, if I put this thing off for much longer, that kid is going to have senior citizen parents.”
My dude and I have talked about kids, slightly, and we both kind of feel the same way. We’re not against them, but they’re not high up on our lists of things to do.
They’re scary, man.
I like sleeping in on the weekends. I like my alone time. Every once in awhile, I like having a nightcap and a Purple Rain one-person dance party at the house. I think about death and dying every hour of the day- how could I produce spawn and not explode from anxiety? What happens is my kid gets sick? Will I fall apart? What will happen to my relationship with my kid’s dad? TELL ME!!!!
These are thoughts that swim through my head on a daily basis, and it makes the thought of having kids kind of TERRIFYING.
This is where you come