Hip Hippie Hipster Horray!

I just so had an epiphany.

I am a hippie hipster.

Is that even possible?

Oh! Wait! A Hippie Hipster Cowgirl - Weehaw. Dude. Whatev.

I have no idea why I would want to categorize myself.
But it seems to be so much fun!

How did I come to this conclusion? Well, through overt stereotyping of course.

Hippie:
I like patchuli, and eat hemp heart seeds and granola, like soy cotton clothing, wear floaty tops and flip flops when I can and like to be zen, dude. I read the 4 Agreements, and listen to sitar music while I meditate. Oh, and I like Sangria.

Hipster:
I have one of those crazy architectural hair cuts and spike it up all over the place, listen to indie rock and sometimes wear my glasses which happen to be square framed (but maintain hippie-ness through their translucent violet colours). And I smoke cigarettes, read any book by that guy who wrote 'Trainspotting' and try to look like I don't care about nuthin. Oh and I drink hard bar like Gin and Vodka. Actually I don't drink Gin, but I'll pretend to, because I am HIP dude.

Cowgirl:
I was born in Alberta.
That surely qualifies on its own. No? Oh, well excuse me.

So, like whoa. I am totally a walking contradiction. I don't need to go to the wrong bar to get beat up, I just sit with myself and be disgusted. With myself. Parts. Disgusted. You, there, left side. Disgusting smelly hippie. Well, you there. Bottom Half. Don't be so negative, Hipster. Um... Right side just punches the other sides and screams 'Getim Boys!'

To celebrate? I am going to find weird things to add to my blog. Because I know y'all would be so into that, and hey. I am freaking bored here.

Did I mention that this 3 way combo promotes insanity?

HAAHAAAAAAHAAAAAAHAAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAAAAAHAHAAAAA... ha. ha.

...

ha?