Discover Top Posts Tagged with #partyexpo

There used to be parties thrown in an old #PartyExpo in Bushwick. My favorite part of this shot is baby @tajcam in the corner and of course, mini bottles of #Colt45. Pre order link in bio. 🙃 (at Party Expo) https://www.instagram.com/p/CRTqX41j2Zd/?utm_medium=tumblr

#partyexpo #colt45

Let’s get your party started & create more memories! • • • • Customer order 👉🏼 Celebrating people who need love and offering prayer. 🎈💕 • • • #partystore #orlando #orlandobusiness #orlandopartyplanner #partyexpo #party #partydecorations #partysupplies #balloons (at Party Expo) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9ut0GbBUPp/?igshid=bb8bikr5t892

#partystore #orlando #orlandobusiness #orlandopartyplanner #partyexpo #party #partydecorations #partysupplies #balloons

That New New York

I moved here 6 years ago to go to the Pratt Institute, an art school in Brooklyn.. and I get called a hipster a lot. I get it, I have a lot of the supposed hipster credentials, I live in bushwick (which is totally the new Williamsburg), I’ve had a PBR in the last 12-24 hours, I really don’t get why people leave Brooklyn to go into manhattan or people who wear color other than black, that is so uggs-north-face-yonkers… gross. I haven’t worn a color in 6 years, its SO easy doing laundry. I actually feel bad for people who call me a hipster because I’m pretty sure there’s nothing LESS hip than the word hipster. The last time it was hip to call someone a hipster was in like 2008 and I was already wearing all black back then. At this point, when people call me a hipster I take it as a compliment, All I hear is “Congratulations on getting laid by attractive bearded dudes at bars with good IPAs on tap!” and I’m all like “Thanks!” I’m actually on Tinder now, and my rule is no tattoos, no skateboard, no swipe. Tinder is cool, Tinder is this new app that locates strangers near you and allows you to judge them based on what’s really important, like pictures of their face or abs or if they think it’s appropriate to wear a fedora (it’s not). It’s like the best game ever, swipe right if you’re down to bang, swipe left to see the next cyber-slut. It’s super good for those of us who are better at using photobooth than having conversations. Tinder is funny because its all about being so, so shallow which I don’t mind. I really don’t need Internet dudes pretending to care about how much I LOOOVVE arrested development or that I’m always down for sushi all, ok-cupid-style. Honestly I hate reading the dude’s bios too, they always say bullshit like “I LOVE MY LIFE” or “WORK HARD PLAY HARD”. No thanks. I just wanna know you wanna bang me even though I look like a wannabe Mall Goth.

I take full advantage of how superficial it is but in sort of a different way. All the dudes in young professional outfits with like “hygiene” or whatever are immediately out. no thanks! I save my right-swipes for failed video freelancers who could give you a UTI on command. Actually I didn’t meet too many sexy art dudes with dirty fingernails at Pratt, which is surprising. Mostly just gays with top knots and a LOT of really sane, well-rounded people with like, no entitlement issues at all. Pratt is like really diverse.

It’s full of rich kids who take scissors to their Spring ‘14 Philip Lim bags for their DIY blog to be all: “fuck daddy and that trust fund, I’m punk now.” There are also plenty of fake anarchists who want you to call them sapphire, believe that sleeping in beds is for the 1% and smoke herbal cigarettes while sitting cross-legged. You know, those people who are virtually the human form of an upworthy post and fucking miserable to be around. I was actually pretty scared to go to art school. I definitively wasn’t some normal suburban chick with an interest in 'PR' (whatever the fuck that means), but I was still fucking terrified I’d wind up rooming with a sculptor with white-chick dreads or a painter chick who keeps one Fleetwood Mac song on repeat while she mopes around in drapey shawls. And actually my worst fears were realized when it turned out my first roommate called herself Emerald, hailed from Northern California and told me immediately that she had taken a year off to explore lucid dreams on acid with her fiancé who is a shaman and a wanderer. JACKPOT She also told me never to touch her shit.