Such as it is the common child’s goal to become an “astronaut” or “teacher” when they grow up, it is every hipster’s dream to work at the American Apparel factory. In this fantasy, they have access to all the hand-crafted onsies and leggings they could ever want and have regularly scheduled orgies after lunch, which consists of empanadas and Colt-45. But they may want to go back to the drawing board as there is one aspect of the job they have likely overlooked — namely that all AA factory workers risk losing fingers and other extremities to the sewing machine after being startled by CEO Dov Charney rampaging through the factory in a new underwear product and Hooters tank top.

Also, judging from that one guy’s medical-grade mask, the workers risk contracting SARS as well. And to throw one more bowling ball upon your shattered hipster dream, from this video it is apparent that 97.5 percent of the workers in the American Apparel factory are neither American nor do they wear any sort of stylish apparel (although one could easily smuggle out dozens of onsies and leggings at a time under those jumpers). It’s a good thing hipsters routinely get 12 hours of alcohol-induced sleep per night; they’ve got some dreaming to do.

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Video referred by Howard Duesterberg for Stuff Hipsters Don’t Like ©2008

*****RECENTLY UPDATED*****

Click here to see my Picasa Web Album of pageant pics!

Well, it’s over. I lost, of course. Maybe this will be the blow to my confidence that inspires me to join a corporation and abandon all hipster aspects of my former self! Well, doubtful, but I am making the decision right now to retire from the pageantry world forever.

So, Thursday night, I got a g-talk message from Misha who was panicking because two of the 10 contestants had dropped out. She asked if I knew anyone who would be willing to step in, because well, the people who actually applied were not up to her hipster standards. I almost recruited one hip Williamsburger to help her out, but he dropped out Friday morning. Whatever, I tried.

Contestants were instructed to get to Supreme Trading at 6 for a run-through, but only three from the Miss side and two from the Mr showed up. Where were the others? “They’ll get here later. They have… stuff to take care of,” Misha sketchily replied. Someone made a joke about how they probably had jobs or something, but we immediately ruled out that possibility, it being Williamsburg and all.

Misha fielded our questions before we did a run through of how events would proceed. She also instructed us not to tell anyone from “the press” that the whole applicant process was rigged! Sorry, Misha. Welcome to the 21st Century where ordinary people and seasoned journalists alike can blow your cover in the blogoshpere! Also on the list of things not to talk about was the Colt 45 story (fabricated publicity stunt) and the fact that almost all of the contestants were Misha’s friends from college. The reason why Misha tapped me was because the folks over at FREEwilliamsburg feautred my blog and her pageant two posts away from each other. The only time I had spent with her was half an hour at Beacon’s Closet and an hour at a photo shoot for the NY Post (Note: Judging from their article on the pageant called “Sillyburg,” I think I need to make an addendum to thing hipsters don’t like #4) Being described by arrogant yuppies.)

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