I HATE You: NYU Chicks

I went to NYU from 2000 until my graduation in 2004 and have been in the NYC area ever since. So I know a thing or two about New York. And one of those two things I know is that the city COMPLETELY changes all the time. One day you're walking by your new favorite Thai restaurant a few weeks after the grand opening, the next that very same store front is now housing an Australian ice cream shop. So if you don't visit a neighborhood for a few months, the whole place will have changed once you come back.

Greenwich Village, the neighborhood where New York University is located, is no different.  Last year, all the store fronts on Bleeker were Tasti-D-Lite frozen yogurt and Pilates spots. Now all those stores have been replaced by Pinkberry frozen yogurt stores and day spas.

I was walking around the Village with my girlfriend on a particularly beautiful day a couple weeks ago and we were both looking on in awe at how much shit had changed. Neither of us make it to this particular neighborhood that often anymore (the last time we'd been down there was probably four months ago) but regardless, the change was shocking.

As we were having this discussion, a group of hot, snide NYU girls who were walking behind us started to snicker.

"Fucking tourists!" one of the chicks said. "Welcome to New York!" another one joked.

Now keep in mind, I've lived in New York for seven years. My girlfriend has been here for thirteen.

Also keep in mind that on many an occasion, we've snarkily chided tourists. Especially the ones who ride the subway with their visors and fanny packs on, falling over onto the floor at every stop.

So was this just a case of my comeuppance? Was I getting a taste of my own medicine?

No. It was a case of three ignorant, rich bitches being total fucking retards. Sure, you know where every new Starbucks is on the Lower East Side, but were you here when those very same Starbucks locations were ideal spots to pick up heroin? Yes, you've raved on your Facebook account blog about your three favorite wine bars in the East Village, but did you know that no one but absolute cunts go to wine bars?

So of course I was pissed off. So I of course had to start up on some shit. But it was a Friday evening after a long week of work, so rather than saying anything clever, I just stopped in my tracks and clotheslined the bitches. Oops. Sorry, sorry, did you fall over? Did you break the heel off your Jimmy Choo?

Oh.

Well, welcome to New York. You fucking cunts. I HATE You.