So Marc and I woke up in my car somewhere around 7 A!M! and I swear to god it felt like I had just slept through a spinal tap procedure. My bod looked like a crinkled piece of bacon. I will never sleep in my car again. Plus, at some point during the night, Marc pissed in a gallon jug we were keeping drinking water in and didn't think I'd notice. Luckily he threw it out before I tried to drink out of it and recreated Survivior: Outback conditions. Wait. Yeah. That's exactly how sleeping off a hangover in my car felt like, an episode of Survivor.
ANYWAY.
We woke up, gagged on urine smell, stretched our humpbacks and used Marc's new iphone type contraption to find a cafe with free wifi. We found New World Deli. It had perfect sized bathrooms so we could wash up and brush our teeth, perfect coffee, perfect breakfast burritos with greasy hashbrowns and avocado. It was like R.B. Winning but early enough that the trustafarians weren't awake yet.
It's weird. When I first saw this pic, I wanted to trash it since my gut is sticking out like I'm five months preggers, but now, I'm kind of grooving to it. I've got a sweet little belly! Cool.
Does anyone know who this lady is? We weren't allowed to talk directly to her. I had to ask her handler if I could get a photo.
So, basically, Marc and I wanted to see Echo and the Bunnymen, which was at Stubb's BBQ over on 8th street. We got in line, waited for fifteen minutes and then someone told us we were in the line to eat at the restaurant, not to see the band. Marc ignored them and walked right in! And I followed. We ran right into the brother from My Name is Earl.
Jelz? lol.
And then we ran through the other backdoor where we figured the stage was. It was a beautiful wooden patio that looked over the stage, much like the aristocrat's seats in theaters. We stood there and watched a band called Hot Leg play.
Bad music, i think, but great show. They play L.A. metal and they're from London, plus their singer, Justin Hawkins, is this guy:
Hot for girls and guys, ri?
Here is a roadie carrying Justin Hawkins through the crowd while he was still playing guitar. total boners!
Look at how fucking hip everyone is. It made me hate them and want to replicate them at the same time. :(
Ok, so here's Black Lips. They were hip and ... good? I can't remember what they sound like so I recommend downloading a couple tunes before you buy. (Guffaw)
So I should tell you that this is about the time Marc and I realized that we were standing in the uber VIP section, as in, only major news outlet journalists, celebrities and daddy's precious daughters were allowed in the backyard balcony. Not only were we not wearing the two (read: one is ridiculous, two is insane) red wristbands and badge (read: $2000) that was required to be there, but the security were periodically checking everyone for those items.
Plus, the whole event was invite-only. As in, if we got caught, we wouldn't be kicked into the downstairs crowd, we'd be kicked out of the whole bar/building/concert. How the eff did we even get by security in the first place? Call us lucky duckys!
This is I believe, the Crystal Method, who weren't even part of the show. They were just, like, the music in between bands. Insane, ri?
This is Glasvegas, which I totally recommend as a smart alternative to shit bands like All American Rejects and Fall Out Boy ... (simon). I can see myself having a rager or date night to the soundtrack of Glasvegas. And they're from Scotland. Swoon.
Oh my effing god, raven-haired Scots playing surf pop. Ravage me.
Pretty fucking cool start to our Friday.
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