Love ‘em or hate em, no one can deny that we are surrounded by the hipster generation these days. We are living and breathing in the second-hand smoke of Parliament Lights everywhere we go.  I have spent some time observing them in their natural habitat (dark basements and dive bars in Brooklyn and the entire campus of Virginia Commonwealth University) and have seen the light.

Hipsters really aren’t that bad. In fact, I kind of like them and the wonderful changes they’ve made to our world:

Jeans: Dear Hipsters, Thank you for putting the kibash on baggy jeans. If I had to see one more pair of Tweety Bird boxers muffin-topping out of a sagging mess of denim, I would have gouged my eyes out. And while I may be slightly envious of your lean legs, that’s my own burden to bear. Rock on, skinny-legged hipster. If you got it, flaunt it.

The Polaroid Camera: Yes the Polaroid camera is coming back! And I’d like to thank, in part, the hipster generation. There’s nothing hipsters love more than the instant gratification of seeing themselves in all their avant-garde glory on film. But hey, don’t we all? Otherwise, websites like this would never survive.

The Art of Facial Hair: You may not have thought facial hair to be an art form, but I can guarantee you it is. And it is one that hipsters have explored in depth. The time and precision it takes to perfect a pencil-thin stache is almost obscene.  Never have I seen so many chin-whisker-mustache combinations in my life. I applaud you, uniquely-groomed hipster. You are a special brand of street art as you walk past me.

American Apparel: I’ve often contemplated which came first, the Hipster or the gold-lame filled American Apparel store. But either way, Hipsters brought my favorite deep-v t-shirt to every corner of the U.S.of A. And I do love them for my weekly entertainment that is trying on unitards and trying to figure out where I could wear them.

Eyewear: As a contact-wearer for the past 9 years, I have serious issues when I have to wear my glasses out in public. I feel vulnerable to attack and ridicule. But we all have those days when our eyes simply reject any foreign objects in and around the vicinity of the eyeball. Hipsters have brought sexy back when it comes to eyewear. My retinas thank you.

PBR: I’m not going to lie to you. I enjoy a frosty PBR from time to time. They’re usually a special at bars, probably because they assume no one will order one. But if you’re offering me a $2.50 Pabst Blue Ribbon, I’m gonna take the bait. Hipsters have turned cheap into hip when it comes to binge drinking at a good price. There’s no shame in accepting a PBR, especially when a young hipster bought one (or 5) for you.

Scarves for Men: American Apparel has created the man of my dreams. And in all of my fantasies, Mr. Right is wearing a checkered scarf in a well-fitted tshirt. It takes a special kind of man to pull off a man-scarf. I’m thinking Ashton Kutcher, ladies.

Fanny Packs: I no longer have to be burdened with the task of carrying around a purse or clutch all night. I can strap on my handy fanny pack and hit the local hipster scene with my hands free for more important things, like my Polaroid camera.

[Photo courtesy of LATFH.com. One of the best sites I've ever seen.]

I want to propose the unthinkable:

I think hipsters are kind of OK.

Now, stay with me here.
Many, many people disagree – even some here at CollegeCandy – but if you can look past the obvious (like the mustaches and the outline of the boys’ genitalia through their super tight denim), I think our friends in Bushwick and the ‘Burg have some redeeming qualities. Below, I present a list of their good points:

1. Sometimes their clothes aren’t ridiculous: Just about everyone looks good in a v-neck tee, even if it’s not from American Apparel (sorry, Dov). And skinny jeans and Chuck Taylors may also be hipster mainstays, but let’s not forget, these have been the mark of style for a long time. (Yes, long before some people were rockin’ them out with Wayfarers and fedoras.)  Rock stars wouldn’t be sexy if their jeans weren’t so damn tight and Chucks are comfy with a 40-year history of cool. Everyone from Snoop Dogg to Sylvester Stallone has worn these kicks, and your plaid-clad friends aren’t going to stop now. Neither should you.

2. Cafe culture is fun: Sometimes you deserve to treat yourself to organic coffee grown by only six farmers in the farthest reaches of Kenya on the highest mountain. Savor that $8-cup o’ joe, even if it means sitting through open mic night. Cafes are great for people watching, and you might meet someone cute by the cream and sugar. Nice.

3. They’re sensitive types: Hipsters are devoted to art and many even think they’re good at it. Let a nice guy in glasses and a flannel shirt from Salvation Army write you a song, even if he plays it on a keytar for added “irony” or quirkiness. It’s the thought that counts, right?

4. Admit it–snark can be funny: A little bit of sarcasm goes a long way when it comes to laughing at our daily lives. Case in point: Christian Lander, author of Stuff White People Like (the blog and the book), has the beard, the glasses, and the attitude of hipsters everywhere. And he’s funny.

5. Once you’re in there, they’re…nice: Hipsters sneer at people who watch – and enjoy – reality TV, but after you get them warmed up, they’re just so darn friendly. They’re really liberal with their Parliaments and any other herbal substances you may need. And while you may not like Pabst Blue Ribbon, at least it’s free.

6. They throw great parties: At a hipster party, you know you won’t hear the same five T-Pain songs you heard on your way over there. It’s easy to laugh about hipsters’ taste in music, but I promise you won’t stop dancing as the DJ goes through everything from the oldest rap to the newest mash-ups. Also, see number 5 for hipster etiquette.

Keep this list in mind the next time you happen upon a bar filled with twenty-somethings in plaid and neon brights. You may enjoy it. And I don’t mean ironically.

Lindsay Lohan is not a lesbian.

I repeat: Lindsay Lohan is not a lesbian.

Yesterday, Gawker (a site usually so snarky and cynical they probably wear American Apparel clothes just to be ironic), posted an article about how the Lilo / Ronson lesbian affair might really be the real thing, and listed all these points that kind of prove the two are in a relationship. Their biggest piece of evidence? A picture on Sam’s MySpace page that shows her and Lindsay “kissing”.

See how I put the word kissing in quotes? That’s because the picture is pretty much the weakest thing I’ve ever seen. I have more passionate kisses with my Christian Bale poster that’s been in my bedroom since 8th grade. There’s more heat in a handshake than in that picture.

Lindsay Lohan is not a lesbian.

What she is, is media savvy. Everyone knows that the best way for a girl to get attention is to make out with another girl – high school and college parties prove this fact time and time and time and time again – and since Lilo obviously isn’t making movies that anyone cares about anymore, or has anything to say that anyone cares about anymore, the only thing she has left is being a hot lesbian.

Look. I went to college. I saw my fair share of 1 AM Lesbians (girls that get drunk and then “cuddle”, “hold hands with” and “kiss” a friend who happens to be a girl), and Lilo is a classic 1 AM L-er. Sam Ronson, she’s a lesbian. She was a lesbian before Lindsay, and she’ll be one after. Why she’s letting Lohan propagate the idea that lesbianism can be created overnight is a mystery to me, but whatever her role in all of this is, I’m sure she’ll come to her senses eventually.

Some people are probably going to tell me I’m wrong. That Lindsay IS indeed a lesbian, or at least bisexual. I will believe this when she just comes out and says it, and stops hiding behind vague wording. I will believe this when a real picture (because if this pic means she’s gay, then I must be gay too, since I always lean on my friends after a few too many gin and tonics) of her and Sam in a loving embrace appears. I’ll believe this if they stay together after the cameras stop snapping.

But unlike Gawker, as of yet, I don’t buy one ounce of the bullsh*t the media – or all those too-posed pictures – are selling.