Hipster Max Ep. #2

The second installment in Hipster Max's adventures. Based on true events.

'Tis The Season For Prom

I never went to my high school prom. I never wore my dream dress, danced arms-out robotically with some dude named Chad, and cried in the bathroom when Chad looked in the general direction of some skank named Amanda. In retrospect, I wonder if I cheated myself by opting to stay at home and watching Memoirs Of A Geisha with my mother instead of having that pivotal princess night. What's a princess night? I've never had a Bat Mitzvah, or Quinceañera, or Sweet Sixteen. Sweet Sixteen? Chinese people don't have those. We have No-Sweets-If-You-No-Get-1600-On-SATs. Perhaps I missed out on some life-changing experience that forever altered the course of events that would have led me to becoming a more complete person, kind of like how my mom didn't breastfeed me as a baby and caused me to have poor sense of direction. Yes, this is why I get lost all the time, I am sure.

Now that I think about it, no one even asked me to prom. Not a single person. In the words of Cee Lo Green, "Well ain't that some shit." This may come as a shock, but I was not always the magnificent creature you see today. Instead of turning heads with my high-end prostitute face and commanding a room with this ass that won't quit, I was a dumb teenager doing silly things like thinking, reading, and community enrichment projects. Those days are behind me now. I'm an adult and have my priorities in order. I have since blossomed into a stunning specimen with sophistication and charisma. I'm like a Chinese version of Paz de la Huerta but with a dash of Michelle Obama and the voice of Bruno Mars. Fuck you, Chad! I didn't want to stay at the Super Jumbo Deluxe Hotel with you anyway! Call me.

However, as I am still a struggling graphic designer, albeit a devastatingly handsome one, I have come to realize that my adult shortcomings stem from my lack of prom experience. Something magical happened that  night to all the happy shiny kids who went on to become happy shiny adults. Since I missed out on prom, I see it is only fitting that I recover what was lost. I must have my prom night so that I can be a complete person. Luckily, my sister Jenna's wedding is next week. That'll do. As maid of honor, I've already bought my ravishingly gorgeous dress and tailored it to a modest just-cover-the-ass length. There will be a DJ providing a magical soundtrack for the night so I can pretend to be Kevin Bacon and angry-dance all over the warehouse, er, I mean the country club. There are five groomsmen to the five bridesmaids for me to take my standard line-up-on-the-stairs photograph. I'm counting on  someone to put a hover-hand at my waist. My best friends will be present at the wedding so I can call Theresa a slut for getting to third base with her boyfriend while Jie cockblocks Chad all night. Of course my parents will be present because no prom night is complete without me crying a river of makeup down my face while screaming "But Daddy I love him!" I believe in my case I will yell, "Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!" because Chinese is a very delicate and subtle language. It will be a night to remember, my long awaited coming of age. I will wake up the next day optimistic, healthy, employed, and with chiseled side-abs. I will finally be a fully realized adult.

My Giant Hipster Brother

For those of you who do not know Max, he is my younger brother. I have two younger brothers. The giant one and the fat one. I'll get to the fat one another time. The giant one is what one might call an eccentric. Actually, to call him an eccentric is an understatement. Max leans more towards social deviant. In fact, I'm sure he gives some people the willies. It's a wonder that we are related, what with me being the majestic specimen that I am and he being the violin-wielding, velour tracksuit-wearing, home aquarium-raising nutjob that he is. Are you picturing what I just said? Are you seeing the tracksuit? As a child, he was on the path to becoming a perfectly normal,  upright citizen, the delight of suburban society. He played baseball, soccer, collected Pokemon cards, had a laser tag birthday party... then somewhere along the line he found the way of Sonny and went cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. He became nuttier than Gran's pie. Max got a taste for the nutty and never looked back. Over the years he has become stranger and stranger, and now I think I know what it's all about. He has become the greatest hipster of hipsters.

When we imagine a hipster, we typically picture someone wearing plaid, scarves, anything that can be found in your city's vagrant or crackhead's chic wardrobe. We picture someone sporting a hairstyle precisely arranged to look messy and carefree. Of course, MGMT is probably playing in the background. Max is none of these things. No scarves, no skinny jeans, no beard, and he has never even heard of MGMT. He doesn't fit into any of the hipster stereotypes, and that is how he became the greatest hipster of all. He has gone so far into the alternative that he has surpassed all his hipster contemporaries by light years. If he is to keep his hipster throne, he knows that he has to live and breathe the lifestyle of complete irony. Did he really just spend hundreds of dollars on that horrendous outfit from Urban Outfitters? No, he got it at Costco, and it was a double pack for $12.00. Is he trying to be ironic with that asymmetrical haircut? No, it's because his sister cut one side of his hair and couldn't finish so his dad cut the other side. Max is a walking ironic statement. When he says he's going out after work, he means he is going to the fish emporium. Because that's alternative, that's postmodern. No one can touch Max's flair for the obscure, ironic, and random. He lives every day like he is the greatest gift to man, except no one knows who he is... because he's very underground, you've probably never heard of him. 

Last night my family went out for a belated birthday dinner for my mother. Max wore a black velour track jacket zipped all the way up the neck with bright blue, shiny, basketball pants that showed his socks because they were too short. The following conversation ensued.