Douchefellas

                                               


    
 It was a glorious time.
                  
And hipsters were all over the place. It was before Galapagos opened and before Crazy Josh decided to take on a native Brooklynite and start a war. It was when I met the world. And it was when I first met Todd Conway. He couldn't have been more than 28 or 29 at the time, but he was already a legend in his first 1 1/2 years in Brooklyn. He'd just walk in Barcade and everybody who worked the room went wild. He'd give a doorman an i-Pod just for opening the door. He'd give hundreds of fedora hats to the dealers and guys who ran the games. The bartender got a link to his MySpace Page just for keeping the Pabst Blue Ribbon cold.

 


There was "Tight Jeans" Tommy, and Todd...and me.

 And there was Anthony "Ohio" Stabile. Frankie "No-Car" Bones. And then there was Mo "Thick Frame Glasses'" brother, "Thin" Andy. And his guys, Frankie "The Progressive DJ" and Freddy "No Talent". And then there was Pete "The Treehugger", who was Sally "KickBalls'" brother. Then you had Nickey "Eyes For Art"...and Mikey "Mid-West" Franzese. Then there was Jimmy "TwoTimes", nicknamed because he said everything twice like, "I'm going to get the soy milk, get the soy milk."
                                        
                  
To us, those real Brooklynite people who worked shitty jobs for bum paychecks and took the subway to work and worried about bills, were not hip. They were suckers who didn't eat Thai food. They had no understanding of art, music,  fashion or simply, how to live life. If we wanted something, we just asked our parents back in the MidWest. If anyone complained twice, we would huddle together and then hit them so hard with our witty, liberal art degree retorts that they never complained again. It was all just routine. You didn't even think about it. For us to live any other way was nuts.

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