Opinion
Crap, I'm a hippy
Shelley Hoover
A few weeks ago, I, Shelley Hoover, a twenty-year-old white upper middle class college student, became a fucking hippy.
When I moved into my co-op, which are notoriously known for being hippy houses, I thought I could withstand, I thought I could be a yuppie and live in a peace and love environment. I could bear the walls painted with nonsense like "breathe in the sun" or "everybody climb a tree" or the ever dictating "EVERYONE BE HAPPY"
I first noticed the change when I realized I hadn't eaten meat in over a week. The kitchen was always full of girls and boys with unkept hair and peasant skirts cooking vegan cookies and veggie-dog chow mein and it was delicious.
The second thing I noticed is the hours I've spent sitting on my porch. Doing nothing. Maybe someone else is reading Kerouac, but now 'doing nothing' has become an acceptable activity.
The third thing I've noticed is the contemptious looks I receive from the bro-house across the street. They really, really hate me.
I feel it's only going to get worse. My bike usage rate is going up 70% per day and shoe usage rate is decreasing a frightening 200% a day. Pretty soon I may not know what the internet is and will spend my days laboring in the house organic garden rallying to start more compost bins around East Lansing.
So this is a plea, world. If you don't interject soon, I may be gone forever. The final transformation is coming soon. Bring me some beef jerkey before I can no longer down meat at all, force me to listen to rap or Slayer, I beg you.