Coachella: Oh. M. Gee.

Four days later and I am still dealing with the Coachella plague. BUT it was all 100% totally worth it. Camping with some of my favorite people in the desert, frolicking on the grassy knolls of the polo fields, and dancing the night away to musical perfection all made my weekend magical. Despite the gnarly car searches and spending 5 hours at an In-n-Out overall the whole experience was amazing and needs to be added to everyones bucket list.

Now, why is it that anywhere I go ghosts of dudes past haunt me? Dudes of Dates Past started haunting me even before venturing into the desert last week. First and foremost Jew Boy texted me asking if we could forget how things ended...oh you mean forget that I told you you are a weirdo and was over it? Anyways he wanted to meet up, lets just say I ran for the effing hills during Kings of Leon when I saw him. I had no desire to see if his mom had accompanied him to Coachella to make him dinner and get good standing room for all the shows.

Then there was LA Dude. Holy freaking needy. He seemed to have broken up with his latest and greatest wife to be and was in need of a Coachella Companion. He pestered me for a solid morning making sure I would hang out with him. Beyond that he wanted me to find him a wife, blow job girl for the weekend, and perspective hook-ups. Was this somehow in the terms of him buying me dinner that I am no responsible to find him a way to get head? I don't effing think so.

Fast forward to Day 1 of the best weekend of my life. He sends me a text announcing his arrival so I tell him I will meet him in the back of the Sahara tent. I venture to the back of the tent see him in the distance and go up and say hello. For one he acts like he has no idea who I am and no joke this asshole says three whole words to me and scampers off with a very nice girl to get a drink. He proceeds to text me later in the weekend only when needing a blow job, which I told him could be purchased by the churros and frozen lemonade, and for a ride when his car battery died. So a few things I have to say to my dearest LA Dude. 1. It is no wonder you are single, you are a basket case of emotions. 2. Please don't come to me with your needs because I could give two shits. And 3. Please don't chat with me about making plans ever again because quite frankly I have nothing more to say to you other than fuck off. The world does not (despite what you think) revolve around you my friend.

None the less Indio I will see you next year for another weekend of Lady Gaga sky writing, hour long discussions on flying ducks and collar bones, and endless amounts of giggles. Peace. Love. Coachella.