(no subject)
It's funny how desperation takes its toll. I got several phonecalls from one Mr. Pinney while I was at Bonnaroo (more on that amazing time later) because his life is fucked up because he tried to fuck me up. And now wants my sympathy. I changed the posting about how he is a complete fuck-up just so he'd leave me alone. He offered to pay me, but unlike him I can't be bought. I jokingly asked for half a mil and 2 pounds of headies, I should make that my permanent asking price haha
I know you're asking yourselves, "What kind of person acts like a complete asshole to someone and then asks for a favor?" The answer: Mr. Pinney, but it's the behavior of pretty much all NoVa guys, especially those that live in the Arlington area it seems. Well, Dustin was a huuuuge toolbag and he lived in Reston, but that area collects horrible people too. I'm so glad I left that place, I got trapped in that crap for too long.
Ok so Bonnaroo. This might be a long one (and I'll come back and add more as I remember everything).
Days were fun, nights were explosive. Bisco lifted my heart and drove my body to the point of physical insanity. My good friend Molly had a bit of help with that too :) Stomping feet, swinging arms, move your hips side to side. There was a girl I saw at Sigur Ros and Robert Plant that I would have loved to have known. She was a bright star among the masses; I wonder if anyone thought that of me as I danced. I'd like to say that my gyrations incited others to join the dance, but if I needed no motivation, who's to say they didn't either. But I can say that once I started, I noticed the people around me, previously stationary, would slowly dip their toes in the rapid beats, finding a place to move inside the music. Contagious and outrageous. I lied on the grass for Sigur Ros, mind cartwheeling from opium and shrooms. As I finished the poppy joint, a passerby (male) walked over me, passing right through the cloud of sweet smelling smoke hovering above me. One look back to see the source, one phrase exclaimed in immediate approval. "Oh, you are SO fucking awesome." If he'd had the courage, I would have shared. Many passed over me, many caught my eye. Many were caught openly staring (I was wearing a black sundress sans bra). Very few approached. I guess I'm intimidating. In the good way, as most of the ones that did approach me had positive things to say. I was making my way back to camp one night (we were in Camp Roger Murdock, prime location about 10 minutes from Centeroo and 2 minutes from bathrooms and food), beat from another day of dancing with the Roo but ready to gear up for another night of the same. By this time, I've learned how to walk with my head up, instead of keeping my eyes focused on the ground. Then I hear "I like your smile" barely loud enough to hear, but directed at none other than me. I hadn't even realized I'd been smiling.
The vendors seemed to love me. First I met the two cutest little hippie chicks ever selling hats and grinders and other things stoned hippies might want to purchase in the hills of Tennessee. They thought I was the cutuest little hippie chick hah. Very cool. The best vendor experience had to be one of the brewers in the beer garden. Starr Hill beer, brewed right in Charlottesville, VA. Got a sample of both The Love and Northern Lights. Both were FANTASTIC. It's pretty much the beer I've been looking for, light, tasty, sweet, not too much of an aftertaste, just enough to want to take another gulp. Perfect. Anyways, I get the samples and the girl behind the table asks if I'll wear one of their stickers and that I put it "somewhere fun" (free advertisement on a cute girl in a bikini and a skirt never hurts; they actually ran out of Northern Lights). My response is, "Why do I know just where it's supposed to go?", and the girl laughs and slides another sticker over, "How about 2 then?" I'm having a good time and their beer is delicious so I play along and put both stickers strategically on my top. The guy behind the table busts out the Polaroid and takes my picture, my hands on my hips, my hips cocked to the side and a devious smile on my face. His name was Deke, I completely forget her name (Meredith? Beth?). I sent them an email last night, just to praise them for helping make my Bonnaroo so awesome. And to tell them what I'm sure they already know, that their product is phenomenal. Seriously, everyone find some Starr Hill, I'd go so far as to say that their seasonals are better than Sam Adams'. But they do market and produce tastes to please my demographic, so I could be biased. Mayble I'll get some free beer from the email. Or Deke's number :)
Speaking of males, there was this guy at the Bisco set that looked suspiciously like this guy I knew from Uarts' summer program and when we both attended. Brown hair tucked under a bandanna, tie-dye shirt, sandals. I was going crazy dancing and he came up and started dancing close enough that if I turned to my left, we'd technically be dancing together. And I really wanted to but Forrest was there and I didn't want to disrespect him (we talked about that later and lo and behold Forrest knows he can't dance and doesn't care if I dance with those that can). But the way he kept looking back at me made me regret being attached, even as loosely defined as my relationship with Forrest is. I want to dance, and let others dance with me. There was another time a guy seemed to want to approach but wasn't sure if he could. At Sigur Ros, it seemed one guy was going to see just how brave he was, he and his friends sat right by me, he was THE cutest, with blond hair and a gorgeous face, I cursed him for his timing. Just as he sat next to me, Forrest came up (maybe he saw the guys moving in my direction and raced over). I could hear his friends egging him on, telling him to "yank the chain of destiny". I wonder if he'll remember me.
There is one person that I'm sure will remember me. Bill the Drug Dealer haha Forrest's friend Tom met him while he was at camp alone and bought a ton of shit off him for a decent price so he asked Bill to hang around until we got back so we could conduct some business too. Forrest got some stuff, not the rainbow of substances Tom did, but a nice little war chest. I ran into him the next morning by the toilets, he was getting a breakfast steak burrito (he was a rather large man), he almost didn't remember me, then remembered that my friends bought half his shit and came back to our camp to chill out. He gave me 3 hits of acid $20, good guy. We let him pass out under our canopy because he was nice and funny as hell. We didn't see him again after that, we think he just sold the rest of his shit and went home. Tom found organic headies the last day though (the only thing he didn't have was weed, he had hash, opium, acid, coke, and shrooms). So all's well that ends well.
Tom's friends were cute and funny. I thought the brunette from Boston (Mark? Mike?) and the blonde superhippie (Pete?) were absolutely adorable. As the days went by I came to appreciate Aaron, the only one whose name I can actually remember with certainty and the one that gave me the Molly the night of Bisco. Because of him I danced for 3 hours straight. The other guy didn't really talk to me, I actually didn't see him except for the first day and right when they were about to leave. Aaron totally had a crush on me :) And I caught Tom staring at my tits more than once. Hell more than 10 times haha
311 is going to be ridiculous. Dance dance dance dance I love to dance :)
I should go to Camp Bisco this year, it's looking sick.
Who I saw at Bonnaroo:
Vampire Weekend, Dark Star Orchestra, Umphrey's McGee, Bela Fleck, the very very very end of Willie Nelson, Chris Rock, My Morning Jacket, DISCO BISCUITS, Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, Gogol Bordello, BB KING, Ben Folds, The Coup, Sigur Ros, Israel Vibration, Robert Randolph, Yonder Mountain String Band, Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, and motherfucking Widespread Panic.
AND I SAW EMI SAVACOOL, who I haven't seen since freshman year of college! She was sitting right next to me during Gogol Bordello. She walked by and we both kind of checked each other out, then freaked out when we realized who the other was. Good stuff :)
I know you're asking yourselves, "What kind of person acts like a complete asshole to someone and then asks for a favor?" The answer: Mr. Pinney, but it's the behavior of pretty much all NoVa guys, especially those that live in the Arlington area it seems. Well, Dustin was a huuuuge toolbag and he lived in Reston, but that area collects horrible people too. I'm so glad I left that place, I got trapped in that crap for too long.
Ok so Bonnaroo. This might be a long one (and I'll come back and add more as I remember everything).
Days were fun, nights were explosive. Bisco lifted my heart and drove my body to the point of physical insanity. My good friend Molly had a bit of help with that too :) Stomping feet, swinging arms, move your hips side to side. There was a girl I saw at Sigur Ros and Robert Plant that I would have loved to have known. She was a bright star among the masses; I wonder if anyone thought that of me as I danced. I'd like to say that my gyrations incited others to join the dance, but if I needed no motivation, who's to say they didn't either. But I can say that once I started, I noticed the people around me, previously stationary, would slowly dip their toes in the rapid beats, finding a place to move inside the music. Contagious and outrageous. I lied on the grass for Sigur Ros, mind cartwheeling from opium and shrooms. As I finished the poppy joint, a passerby (male) walked over me, passing right through the cloud of sweet smelling smoke hovering above me. One look back to see the source, one phrase exclaimed in immediate approval. "Oh, you are SO fucking awesome." If he'd had the courage, I would have shared. Many passed over me, many caught my eye. Many were caught openly staring (I was wearing a black sundress sans bra). Very few approached. I guess I'm intimidating. In the good way, as most of the ones that did approach me had positive things to say. I was making my way back to camp one night (we were in Camp Roger Murdock, prime location about 10 minutes from Centeroo and 2 minutes from bathrooms and food), beat from another day of dancing with the Roo but ready to gear up for another night of the same. By this time, I've learned how to walk with my head up, instead of keeping my eyes focused on the ground. Then I hear "I like your smile" barely loud enough to hear, but directed at none other than me. I hadn't even realized I'd been smiling.
The vendors seemed to love me. First I met the two cutest little hippie chicks ever selling hats and grinders and other things stoned hippies might want to purchase in the hills of Tennessee. They thought I was the cutuest little hippie chick hah. Very cool. The best vendor experience had to be one of the brewers in the beer garden. Starr Hill beer, brewed right in Charlottesville, VA. Got a sample of both The Love and Northern Lights. Both were FANTASTIC. It's pretty much the beer I've been looking for, light, tasty, sweet, not too much of an aftertaste, just enough to want to take another gulp. Perfect. Anyways, I get the samples and the girl behind the table asks if I'll wear one of their stickers and that I put it "somewhere fun" (free advertisement on a cute girl in a bikini and a skirt never hurts; they actually ran out of Northern Lights). My response is, "Why do I know just where it's supposed to go?", and the girl laughs and slides another sticker over, "How about 2 then?" I'm having a good time and their beer is delicious so I play along and put both stickers strategically on my top. The guy behind the table busts out the Polaroid and takes my picture, my hands on my hips, my hips cocked to the side and a devious smile on my face. His name was Deke, I completely forget her name (Meredith? Beth?). I sent them an email last night, just to praise them for helping make my Bonnaroo so awesome. And to tell them what I'm sure they already know, that their product is phenomenal. Seriously, everyone find some Starr Hill, I'd go so far as to say that their seasonals are better than Sam Adams'. But they do market and produce tastes to please my demographic, so I could be biased. Mayble I'll get some free beer from the email. Or Deke's number :)
Speaking of males, there was this guy at the Bisco set that looked suspiciously like this guy I knew from Uarts' summer program and when we both attended. Brown hair tucked under a bandanna, tie-dye shirt, sandals. I was going crazy dancing and he came up and started dancing close enough that if I turned to my left, we'd technically be dancing together. And I really wanted to but Forrest was there and I didn't want to disrespect him (we talked about that later and lo and behold Forrest knows he can't dance and doesn't care if I dance with those that can). But the way he kept looking back at me made me regret being attached, even as loosely defined as my relationship with Forrest is. I want to dance, and let others dance with me. There was another time a guy seemed to want to approach but wasn't sure if he could. At Sigur Ros, it seemed one guy was going to see just how brave he was, he and his friends sat right by me, he was THE cutest, with blond hair and a gorgeous face, I cursed him for his timing. Just as he sat next to me, Forrest came up (maybe he saw the guys moving in my direction and raced over). I could hear his friends egging him on, telling him to "yank the chain of destiny". I wonder if he'll remember me.
There is one person that I'm sure will remember me. Bill the Drug Dealer haha Forrest's friend Tom met him while he was at camp alone and bought a ton of shit off him for a decent price so he asked Bill to hang around until we got back so we could conduct some business too. Forrest got some stuff, not the rainbow of substances Tom did, but a nice little war chest. I ran into him the next morning by the toilets, he was getting a breakfast steak burrito (he was a rather large man), he almost didn't remember me, then remembered that my friends bought half his shit and came back to our camp to chill out. He gave me 3 hits of acid $20, good guy. We let him pass out under our canopy because he was nice and funny as hell. We didn't see him again after that, we think he just sold the rest of his shit and went home. Tom found organic headies the last day though (the only thing he didn't have was weed, he had hash, opium, acid, coke, and shrooms). So all's well that ends well.
Tom's friends were cute and funny. I thought the brunette from Boston (Mark? Mike?) and the blonde superhippie (Pete?) were absolutely adorable. As the days went by I came to appreciate Aaron, the only one whose name I can actually remember with certainty and the one that gave me the Molly the night of Bisco. Because of him I danced for 3 hours straight. The other guy didn't really talk to me, I actually didn't see him except for the first day and right when they were about to leave. Aaron totally had a crush on me :) And I caught Tom staring at my tits more than once. Hell more than 10 times haha
311 is going to be ridiculous. Dance dance dance dance I love to dance :)
I should go to Camp Bisco this year, it's looking sick.
Who I saw at Bonnaroo:
Vampire Weekend, Dark Star Orchestra, Umphrey's McGee, Bela Fleck, the very very very end of Willie Nelson, Chris Rock, My Morning Jacket, DISCO BISCUITS, Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, Gogol Bordello, BB KING, Ben Folds, The Coup, Sigur Ros, Israel Vibration, Robert Randolph, Yonder Mountain String Band, Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, and motherfucking Widespread Panic.
AND I SAW EMI SAVACOOL, who I haven't seen since freshman year of college! She was sitting right next to me during Gogol Bordello. She walked by and we both kind of checked each other out, then freaked out when we realized who the other was. Good stuff :)