Coachella: Daisy Dukes, Feathered Headdress on Top

8 Apr

April 8 – April 14, 2013

At the risk of blowing my cover before I even get there (my cover is a $20 flower-wreath headband), if I see Lindsay Lohan snorting lines at Coachella this weekend, y’all better believe I’m going to offer her a freshly cut straw, take pictures, sell those shits to TMZ for thousands of dollars and not feel bad about it in the morning. I mean, she made a point to request that she not be sent to rehab until after the festival, so you can butter my butt and call me a biscuit if all of her “assistants” aren’t carrying giant adrenaline pins in their tiny leather backpacks. Girl is going to let it all hang out. Sideboob included, obviously.

I, on the other hand, will be wearing as much fabric as 90 degree weather will allow because the reflective paleness of my skin would have Helen Keller screaming for sunglasses. I’m also starting to think I might not be cool enough for Coachella.  I’ve gone to a fair share of festivals: Bonnaroo, All Good, Wakausa, Langerado (RIP) —  But those are the kind of festivals where you wet-wipe yourself clean and develop a dread whether you mean to or not. They are not the kind of festival where you wake up early to look ironically unkempt every day. And I’m not sure I know how to do that anyways. If I wear Grecian sandals, am I making a political statement? Are people going to step on me if I plan on taking the most inspired nap of my life during Sigur Ros? Can I actually ride on the ferris wheel or has that like, totally been done? Despite these uncertainties (and the fact that I could probably spend a day in Urban Outfitters and still hear all of the same music for free), I’M SO EXCITED! So this week’s playlist is filled with songs that I really hope don’t get played while I’m inside a Port-A-Potty.

MORE IN MUSIC FESTIVALS:

Merlefest (April 25 – 28; Wilkesboro, NC): Bluegrass and folk music in the beautiful mountains of North Carolina. Family-friendly, student showcases; bring pot, leave your pasties at home. 3 to See: Donna the Buffalo, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Leon Russell

Sasquatch (May 24 – 27; The Gorge, Quincy, WA): This year’s indie-centric line-up basically looks like Coachella continued but at The Gorge, which is like, oh beautiful for spacious skies and purple mountain majesties above the fruited plain. Man meets wild, steampunk meets hippies. 3 to See: Primus 3D, Andrew Bird, Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs (+ bonus: Comedian Mike Birbiglia)

Wakarusa (May 30 – June 2; Mulberry Mountain, Ozark, AR): I almost got sucked up into a tornado when this used to be in Lawrence, KS. It was awesome. Wayne Coyne was there in his bubble and I wept during “Do You Realize?” That’s all I can tell you. 3 to See: Umphrey’s McGee, Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe, The Black Crowes (+ bonus: Snoop Lion for the contact high)

Mountain Jam (June 6 – 9; Hunter Mountain, NY): This is what Bonnaroo’s line-up used to look like. You’ll be happy to know that even though Michael Franti went radio edit, he can still convince you that he’s Jesus Christ re-incarnate when the sun hits his dreads right. 3 to See: Widespread Panic, Gary Clark Jr., Phil Lesh & Friends (+ bonus: Filligar, because my friend got finger-banged by one of the dudes in the band)

Governors Ball (June 7 – 9; Randall’s Island Park, NYC): I’ll be honest. No single day really blows my mind and I’m way too lazy to commute back and forth to all three. Skyline views are pretty sweet though, and I’m DYING to accidentally spill my beer on Kim Kardashian during Kanye’s set on Sunday. 3 to See: Kendrick Lamar, Alt-J, Erykah Badu

Bonnaroo (June 13 – 16; Manchester, TN): So fucking hot. If you don’t believe in global warming yet, go to Bonnaroo and kick up some dust in the sweltering heat while you’re noodling to Paul McCartney, David Byrne & St. Vincent and Wu-Tang. You’re going to want to meet your friends at the totem polls, because the stupid stage names are still a colossal misfire. 3 to See (see above + bonus comedian Bob Sagat)

Electric Forest (June 27 – 30; Rothbury, MI): This shit looks bananas. B-a-n-a-n-a-s. And I want to go there. It’s like a magical neon forest with a ferris wheel and paper lantern launching. 3 to See: STRING CHEESE. 3 SHOWS. 3 ENDORSEMENTS. Fuck the rest. Just kidding. STRING CHEESE! Nom nom nom.

All Good (July 18 – 21; Legend Valley, Thornville, OH): This will be the festival’s first year in Ohio. It was previously held on Marvin’s Mountaintop in West Virginia, which is a town that seems to flourish on meth alone. I threw up in my lap during the best and worst trip of my life while watching The Black Crowes in 2007. 3 to See: Furthur, Beats Antique, Yonder Mountain String Band

Newport Folk Festival (July 26 – 28; Newport, RI): So much history here! Established in 1959, artists like Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Doc Watson and Muddy Waters once played these hallowed grounds. I look forward to re-using my $20 flower-wreath headband and giving my boobs a bra-free day. 3 to See: The Avett Brothers, Justin Townes Earle, Trombone Shorty & Orleans Avenue (+ bonus single-song stop-by to Old Crow Medicine Show for “Wagon Wheel.” I’m like a fly to horse shit when that song comes on.)

Lollapalooza (August 2 – 4; Chicago, IL): I’ve never THE CURE been to Chicago, but I am SO down with deep dish pizza. I’m told that Lolla (which is, admittedly, a supes-cute nickname) is all about the after-the-show-its-the-afterparty. In which case, if you, like me, feel old and drained after dancing THE CURE around in the sun all day, will require a steady supply of adderall.  3 to See: The Cure, Phoenix, Father John Misty

Electric Zoo (August 30 – September 1; Randall’s Island Park, NYC): GLOW-STICKS! FUZZY BOOTS! MOLLY! PACIFIERS? No line-up announcement yet. Would put money on Pretty Lights, Skrillex and/or STS9.

Bumbershoot (August 31 – September 2; Seattle, WA): Expect to see that flannel and “the dream of the 1890s” are alive in Seattle. Hop on your penny-farthing and bring your beard or your bearded boyfriend. Or both. No line-up announcement yet.

Warped Tour (All summer; Everywhere teenagers live): The me that had my tongue pierced and worshiped Sublime and boys in bands would have loved this. The me in any other stage of my life thinks this is a nightmare and can’t believe teenagers still waste so much eyeliner on this shit. 3 to See: I mean … Reel Big Fish? Sure. That’s all I can condone.

 

Hey wait! Check back on Wednesday for some mid-week goodness.

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Whoomp! There It Is.

3 Apr

April 3, 2013

Loves

iPhone stickers: Adorable. Take my money. Also, call Lisa Frank and tell her she’s needed.

Which one of you queens is going to buy me a Cabernet at the gay dog bar?

Apparently, taking a walk in the park makes your brain less lollygaggy.

More proof that drinking red wine every night makes you healthy, not an alcoholic.

The weirdest marriage equality signs on the internet. Because nobody loves a supportive movement more than memes.

The pot smoke has settled and Rihanna has seen the light! Looks like she and Chris Brown are finished.

Hates

Wait. WTF. Chris Brown and Rihanna might be getting married? If she’s dumb enough to do that, I hope he wears this terrible shirt to the reception. It is NOT going to photograph well.

It took me YEARS to get over my fear of bees after My Girl. Now you’re telling me THIS?

Go home, James Franco. You’re drunk.

Running into the same mean old lady EVERY day in my office’s tiny kitchen. No link, just a gripe. She eats what looks to be baby food and makes judgey eyes at my Lean Cuisines. LAY OFF ME, I’M STARVING (myself. I’m literally starving myself).

Kim Kardashian’s maternity wear: I don’t care how curvy she gets. I just feel like these outfits are suffocating her AND her unborn child somehow.

I have said it before and I’ll said it again: I refuse to believe that culottes are back.

Do Me

Cheryl’s Weekend at Basquiat’s (Friday, April 5th @ Music Hall of Williamsburg): I definitely don’t remember the days of New York when “girls just wanted to have fun, people were dancing on the ceiling, and George Michael was straight,” but I WANT TO GO THERE.

Brooklyn Flea! It’s back (Saturday, April 6th @ 10am, officially). Which means that hipsters wearing tight black jeans in 90 degree weather are RIGHT around the corner!

Eat Me

Oreo Truffle Stuffed Cupcakes. There’s almost nothing I’d rather put in my mouth. [I already beat you to the “That’s what she said” joke, so don’t even bother … but definitely still laugh about it.]

DOLLA DOLLA BILLS, Y’ALL

1 Apr

April 1- April 7, 2013

Buzz Bissinger does not have a leather fetish. He swears! The Friday Night Lights author recently penned a confessional for GQ, that documents his apparent addiction to shopping, Gucci and retardedly expensive leather garments.

“I own eighty-one leather jackets, seventy-five pairs of boots, forty-one pairs of leather pants, thirty-two pairs of haute couture jeans, ten evening jackets, and 115 pairs of leather gloves,” he says.

I find it hard to believe that the man owns forty-one pairs of leather pants and none of them take him to Bonertown. Regardless, he seems pretty distraught about this whole “being rich” problem. His habits also makes me feel like I’m basically shooting up my online shopping cart items intravenously and now I feel dirty and guilty and am going to have to find a way to reapply the tags I just ripped off of my recent purchases. HEAVY SIGH.

So I mean, I guess congrats on your confession or whatever, Buzz. I can’t really feel bad for you though when you tell us things like binge shopping sessions come with free prosecco. I also kind of want to hate you when you say things like “During the Gucci trip a fellow invitee said I looked like “Bon Jovi,” a compliment that at this point in my life means more to me than any piece of writing.” But truth be told, I love Tim Riggins way too much to hate the man that created him. So in honor of Buzz’s definitely-not-a-fetish addiction to spending mad monies on leather, this week’s theme is all about the Benjamins, baby.

MORE IN MONEY:

Last year, 20,000 people ate a $26 hotdog. It weighs three pounds, all of which will no doubt go directly to and/or out of your ass.

Diddy pops tags harder than Hov, which means people other than Aaron Paul, Michael K. Williams and Chad Michael Murray (wtf, right?) are actually drinking Ciroc.

I will happily allow someone to pay me to play fooseball in a robot costume.

Shirtless, heavily tatted Ryan Gosling counting money (which also doubles as a review for The Place Beyond the Pines, or whatever).

Is anyone surprised that Todd “legitimate rape” Akin doubled the salaries of his staff after his November defeat, assumably just to be a dick to all the Missouri taxpayers (everyone) that didn’t get him re-elected? Government spending is “out of control,” right Todd?

There’s a guy in Germany who barters instead of spending money “to show the world how misguided we’ve become about our material possessions and excess consumption, especially of food.” Naturally, he’s really skinny.

Amazon paid $150 million for Goodreads. They overpaid. I’ll recommend books to you for a cool million AND tell you if you look fat in those (leather) pants.

Hey wait! Check back on Wednesday for some mid-week goodness.

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