Hello, I am the worst. I realize that I have forsaken my blogging duties post-Coachella. After a million straight weeks of travel…I’ve pretty much spent the past two weeks in a coma. A coma where all I can do is eat, work, and read Hunger Games. All three of them. And some fan fiction. And maybe re-watch the movie. Alone. WHATEVER. Point being is that I have nothing to look forward to until the next movie comes out. So I guess… I’m back to blogging. Sigh.
Now that we’ve (re-)established how big of an anti-social nerd I am, let’s talk about the fact I went to Coachella. Which is cool, and thus, I am cool for having gone! Friday was freezing and rainy, which really thwarted my best intentions to be minimally clad and maximally tan. As so happened I ended up in two jackets and still shivering my ass off. I also realized that despite claiming that I “love” the Black Keys, I only know two songs. There was a time when I actually was a fan of music, but now that I don’t live in LA or have to impress 17 year-old boys with my CD changer, I’ve lost most of my desire to stay on top of pop culture.
I was only further reminded how old I am when I got on the hotel shuttle home Friday night and there were about 10 seniors from my old high-school sitting in the back. How do I know this? Because they were screaming “This is the mother fucking Harvard-Westlake bus!” the entire ride. No. This is not actually a school bus. It’s 2 am and I don’t actually care how excited you are to rush AEPi at USC next year. In fact, I am trying to fashion a pillow out of my elbow because I’m exhausted from having a job the other days of the week. This is your future, kids.
Saturday and Sunday, we spent most of the day in the Sahara tent, which for those unfamiliar (scoff) is house music. Or HAU5 music. I know this doesn’t help my Coachella credibility, but I LOVE house music. Love it! It’s physically impossible not to be on the beat when you dance…a white girl’s dream! Not to mention, it was a major perk that one of my friends, Shira, has a roommate that worked the sound stage. Meaning that we got to watch the Saturday ridiculous ness of Martin Solveig, Sebastian Ingrosso, and David Guetta from our personal dance floor. In retrospect, we probably should have spent more time at stages where people were actually playing live music, but you know how girls are when you give them a raised platform to dance on and a sense of entitlement to be there.
Sunday was all about Snoooooooooop and D.R.E. and the whitest crowd to ever attend a gangster rap show. Except the sad thing about being 5’4’’ is that I don’t so much watch concerts as try to avoid getting stepped on. So no, I did not see the 2Pac hologram, no, I didn’t see Snoop and Dre get down on stage. I did, however, get a close range view of a guy’s back. And isn’t that what Coachella is all about? Next year, I’m coming on stilts.
Overall, a fabulous weekend! As I said I have no taste in music, so I can’t really comment on the artistic merits of anyone. That said, it was a total blast… one of the best weekends of 2012 so far!
If I had to point out all the parts I loved about this post, I’d be regurgitating the entirety of it. So instead I’ll say “DITTO!!!!” (yes, FOUR exclamation points) and return whenever I want to relive our Coachella glory.