Busy Weekend.

I've got that itch again. The time has come for another music festival, so naturally I will be flying to Austin this weekend for a little thing I like to call, Austin City Limits. My schedule is as follows...

Thursday: Fly into Austin, TX. Wander around alone. Hopefully figure out where I will sleep beforehand.

Friday: Wait for the one and only festival-mate Robin Chiraboga to arrive in Texas. Upon arrival, immediately find a way to the festival site, Zilker Park. Then,

3:00 Miike Snow

4:00 The Black Keys

5:00 Beach House

6:00 Spoon/ maybe catch some Slightly Stoopid

7:00 Vampire Weekend

8:00 The Strokes

9:00 Phish

Saturday: Hope that you didn't loose a tooth, then get out of bed, put on a headband and do it all over again,

1:30 Pete Yorn

2:30 Gaslight Anthem

4:30 Broken Bells

5:00 Local Natives

5:30 The Temper Trap

6:00 The XX

6:30 LCD Soundsystem

7:30 Deadmau5

8:30 M.I.A.

9:30 Muse

Sunday: Select a new headband and do it one final time,

12:30 White Rabbits

2:00 Portugal.The Man

3:00 The Morning Benders

4:00 Yeasayer

5:00 Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros

6:00 Band of Horses

6:30 The Flaming Lips

7:00 The National

8:00 The Eagles

It's going to be a busy weekend, but somebody's gotta do it.

Shannon, Todd and most likely Corey will be missed dearly. One Rooney will have to represent the whole family, I guess.

I expect it to go something like this:

insert me and Robin above

them squirrels.

I've come to find out that when you live nearly 3,000 miles away from your parents, you tend to have the most ambiguous conversations with them. Or maybe it's just me...

Just yesterday, I was chatted with my mom on the phone while driving home from work (illegal in California). This is how the conversation went...

me: "I heard that this winter is supposed to be one of the worst winters in history in D.C., even worst than last year."

mom: "Ya know, I think you're right."

me: "Oh yeah?"

mom: "I've seen those squirrels working extra hard to gather all of their acorns and hide them in all of my plants. So you must be right."

me: "ummhmm. yep. must be."

At this point, I had a big ol' shit-eating grin on my face. I love that damn woman.

solo shrug.

finnnnnee...

ok ok ok ok okkkkkkk. yes. I'm not that good at this. cut me a break. girl's gotta make a livin...

get out of here.

For some reason, post coachella, the lovely town of indio, CA did not want us to leave, because we could NOT get out of that city for the life of us. It also didn't help that I was driving..

After the 3 best days of our lives, we hopped in the driftwood couch I drive around, and headed home to rush to the dentist at 8am. The brain had not recovered, or returned to a solid form just yet. Mind you, we all have blackberrys with maps and internet...but despite these technological advancements, we drove for over 1 1/2 hours just to try & find the highway. We took a deep breath, feeling utterly defeated, and decided we just needed to stop for gas.

One friend heads into the gas station to pay for $50 of gas (the couch is a beast) and the rest of us stumble after her contemplating what kind of snacks would be required for the trip, IF we ever made it out of the fucking desert. I decided on orange juice and trail mix, paid my duties and jumped back in the driver seat. As everyone got in, I fastened my seat belt (saftey first) and took off. All of a sudden we heard a loud CRASH and I'm pretty sure I felt a slight tug...I slammed on the brake and looked at my co-pilot, sitting shot gun. Wide eyed we looked at each other..."was it still pumping?!?!"

HOLY SHIT. All passengers launched out of the car, only to see the gas thing still attached.........yet fully UNATTACHED from the actual pump... it was like a hose hanging out of my car on to the ground...

The gas station attendant flys out. The first thing that comes out of my mouth (in between belted laughs) is, "IS IT BROKEN?" Due to obvious reasons....yes....it was in fact broken...

No one in the car could hold it together, and I naturally run up to the gas hose and attempt to re-attach it to the gas pump (not taking into consideration is it still stuck on my car). That's when the manager comes out. He knew what was up...that all of us were just not right at the very moment...

Manager: "Just get out of here."

Me: "...........Really? Are you Sure?"

Manager: "Get out of here and go home"

Me: "Ok"

GROUP SHRUG. that man still owes us the last $10 worth of gas before I destroyed the gas pump. I guess we'll let this one go though...

david guetta will fix it.

this statement is 174% false. I'll explain why.

As some may know, I unfortunately have perpetual dental issues (originally caused by a brief, year-long stretch of alcoholism in

college). A few weeks ago, after a very severe attack of an evil panini, the fake front tooth that I have come to know and trust the past two years, popped forward. yes, we are talking buck tooth material. This ended with me in a unfamiliar dental chair...the one thing in this world that ca

uses me anxiety.

I pleaded with the dentist to fix it before my best friends, brother, and I headed to the fest in the desert that most know as Coachella. I left with the original crown fixed and stuck back into place. It would have to do.

2 days later we headed to the desert and settled into our outrageous desert house we shared with 15 other delightful people. We soon got back in the car to head to the first day of the festival, after about 3 beers

and 5 in the car, we all stumbled in, naturally to the pizza line. The very first bite...crack. Front tooth goes forward again. Well shit... this could get ugly. And I mean literally ugly. And by this..I mean I. I pouted for a minute, finished my beer and then stepped back in the game. We enjoyed the day, the music, and I stopped eating pizza, or anything.

Day 2 came around and due to the fantastic support of those around me, I headed to the fest with a better outlook. I made it one day, I can make 2 more. All day was great, running from tent to tent. Literally holding up and dragging my drunken friend for 4 hours straight, and not even being bothered. We all met in the Safari tent to experience the one and only David Guetta.

The music took control and all of us went wild. We were unstoppable and out of control (there are a few other elements to this story, which I will leave out, call me if you must know). Then, POP. I stopped suddenly and lifted the tooth off

my tongue and attempted to get the attention of my friends. When they all turned around, I held up the tooth and smiled wide...they all made gasping motions (the music was far to awesome to hear the actual gasp). I did the only thing that was reasonable at the time, I handed my friend the camera to take a picture of the gapped grin, then I grabbed my newly sobered friend (the one I had previously been dragging around) and ran out of the tent.

"What should we do?" she looked at me sadly. "Do you think there's a thhhhhisssst aid" I asked...it's surprisingly tough to pronounce F's sans front tooth. She again looked at me sadly and started DYING laughing. I just put the damn tooth in my purse and ran back in the tent to continue to dance. GROUP SHURG.

I continued to have the best weekend of my life - sans front tooth - and was surprisingly confident without it. By the end of the 3rd day, I was seen dancing with the mouth wide open shouting every word.

The funny thing is...well, yes, thats funny... but, before I could get into the dentist prior to Coachella, my roommate told me..."Dont worry, soon enough, David G

uetta will fix everything." Little did I know, David Guetta was going to literally knock that shit out...but I had the last laugh. I now carry denture adhesive.

Let's talk about the desert.

the desert is a weird place to begin with...but whoever thought to put a carnival-like music festival in the middle of it...was a goddamn genius. I want to meet this person, and shake their hand, and say, "thank you...no seriously, thank you."

This carni-fest produced as many group shrugs in a matter of 3 days that most anyone would expect.

wow.

yikes. i suck at this.