Tag Archives: drugs

bottle service at da club


Last night, I was invited to da club to enjoy the full VIP bottle service experience.  Rolling six deep with a gold digger, a missed-connection, Pippi Longstocking, a purse watcher, a narcoleptic, and an adderall-popping cunt, we were stamped, wristbanded, and escorted past the velvet ropes to the special elevator that took us upstairs where we could gaze down upon the sweaty rolling stink writhing below.  This elitist bullshit is so not my scene.  Other than having a place to sit, I really don’t get bottle service.  Open carafes of juice are a bad idea around drunk people.  Is there an expectation that the six of us finish this bottle of vodka?  I just drank the bottled water because everything else appeared so unsanitary.  The best part of the whole evening was watching the kiddos roll their faces off down below.  I saw a titty come out, and it made my night.  Can we talk about the go-go dancers?  Why do they all still dance like they are juggling a spaceball?  90’s nostalgia?  Give me something new girls.  Give me something more interesting than your lower butt cleavage.  From my vantage point, with rare exception the dudes can’t dance.  The repetitive pounding house beats of the well-known DJ got super fucking old super fucking quick.  Really with the glow sticks?  The main redeeming factor was when the group of handsome gentlemen at the table next to us mistook me as 10 years younger.  I’m sure it was clubby darkness and context, but just let me savor the sad little moment, okay?  Thanks.  BETA A GOGO

super sad sunday


I refuse to give up from childhood…

CRAYOLA 96…A brand new jumbo box of Crayola crayons.  They come in an expanded package of 96 now!  So soft and luscious, and as an adult you won’t have to share with any of them bogarting little kindergarten bitches.  You’ve had the Peach for a half an hour and and you’ve worn it to a nub.  Geez, I hated children even more when I was a child. HORSES PRINT AND COLOR…Tantrums.  I was at IKEA today marveling at the kids under three maintaining in that soul-suck.  I was ready to throw a tantrum after fifteen minutes of that overstimulating warehell.  IKEA TANTRUM…Macaroni & cheese and/or grilled cheese.  I don’t need to add truffles or any of that fancy shit to justify it either.  I’ll take onion and tomato on the grilled cheese and a side of onion rings if anyone is taking orders.ONION AND TOMATO GRILLED CHEESE…Nitrous.  I was at the dentist last week and he asked me if I wanted nitrous.  I looked at him like he was crazy, “Doc who doesn’t want nitrous?”  Pass the mask and crank it up.  Give ’em a sob story about your dental phobia and they tend to get extra generous with the dial.  SCOLDING WIVES


festival faceoff: coachella v. pitchfork

PITCHFORK 2013The music = Coachella

The sheer volume of performers means Coachella owns the title for superior festival line-up.  From the obscure, to the mainstream, to the reunited, Coachella serves up a summer’s worth of concerts in three compact tightly scheduled 12+ hour days across a polo field of stages.  Pitchfork hosts a number of specifically well-cultivated acts spaced temporally further apart on three different stages situated relatively close together.  Even though Coachella has more musical opportunities, there is no way to see every artist which leads to inevitable disappointments.  Know what wasn’t a disappointment?  The Breeders playing Last Splash from beginning to end at Pitchfork.COACHELLA 2013

PITCHFORK 2013 CROWDThe people = Pitchfork

Chicago gets away with unacceptable bullshit (shitty weather, crumbling infrastructure, violence), but the city’s still beloved because of the charm of its people.  Chicagoans take no shit, but they aren’t fucking L.A. assholes either.  Their midwestern mamas taught ’em right.  The crowd peppered the days with “excuse me” and “thank you.”  Unlike, Coachella, everyone doesn’t stand thisclose at PitchforkPitchfolks mostly keep a reasonable and respectful distance.  In contrast at Coachella, a bitch had her saggy left tit on my shoulder for the entire Foals set.  Even the cops were nicer at Pitchfork.  In a surprisingly good-natured gesture two cops eye-fucking my friend and I pulled out perpendicularly to block traffic so we could strut the crosswalk unscathed.  (Hey Chicagoans – you all walk – stop at the crosswalks.  Crossing the street I felt like a fucked-up sequined version of Frogger.  G-Sus.)


Don’t fuck with Chicago when it comes to food.  We happily feasted on $5 vegan corn dogs and waffle fries from The Chicago Diner stand.  I was introduced to the beauty of Jeni’s ice cream at PitchforkPitchfood reigns.  Coachella offers the poisonous churro, lukewarm water, and chunder-inducing garlic fries.PITCHFOOD

The drugs = Coachella

Basically, people are eating their own hair at Coachella.  Everyone is super fucked-up.  An extremely permissive attitude permeates the polo grounds from security to the fans.  In comparison, at Pitchfork I was lying in the grass extremely faded on edibles listening to Wire when these annoying kids settled in next to us.  One of the girls was one of those narrator-types who wove the word “literally” inappropriately and excessively into every sentence.  “My weed is literally in the grass you guys.” Dude responds, “I want to be rolling so hard that I can’t feel my genitals.  That’s how bad I want to be be rolling right now.”  Obviously, these kids were killing me.  As I lay there contemplating this hell of my own making, I heard a stern female voice say, “What’s in the bag?”  My heart stopped and I kept my eyes closed.  A few beats of silence followed.  Then I heard the annoying nasally girl whine, “She literally just took our weed.  At least we only have an hour and a half left.”  She literally reassured the group.  “She’s totally going to smoke it.” Dude replied.  I have never seen security take anyone’s weed at any show I have ever attended until I overheard it happen to Chicago’s most annoying hipsters at Pitchfork.  I smiled inside at the thought of the security guard blunting up their sack after a hard day’s work corralling doughy bearded white boys around Union Park.  I’m not mad at you Sister Security.PITCHTREE

The Fashion = Coachella

Bless your heart Chicago, style has never been your strength.  I ask you manboys, what is with the super tight denim cutoffs?  This is a very strange not-at-all flattering early 70’s look to resurrect.  Newsflash: 99% of all men look like boys in shorts.  Shorts are a dignity issue.  Dress like a fucking man.  Mostly, it was just a vast sea of unoriginality among all genders.  Don’t worry, we were an island of freshness as I insisted on teasing my reluctant friend’s hair into a major modern beehive.  Coachella breeds its own version of annoying conformity that I wouldn’t at all consider a creative expression unless you consider the art of the coochie cutter the bastard cousin of couture.  However, at least the Coochellites try.  In Chicago, bitches think khaki shorts constitute a style statement.PITCHFORK 2013 JENA

the xx on mda

ROMY MADLEY CROFT XXRecently,  I went to see The xx with some friends.  One of those friends offered me MDA, no extra M.  It’s what the kids are doing now.  It has been a hot minute since I rolled, and I’m usually not a fan of taking pills at shows, but for The xx it seemed appropriate. ROMY MADLEY CROFT XXWe guzzled down the tabs before the opening band started.  The pace of the show was rather sluggish.  There was a lot of waiting for the band and for the drugs to kick in.  XX LIVEWhat I also should have probably remembered is that ecstasy and its cousins tend to give me the party pukes.  Generally, this is more of a problem when I rail rather than swallow, but with no food, the sweltering heat, and the intense crowd, the pukes came on hard and fast.  The line to the ladies room was super long so I walked upstairs and tucked behind some ducting.  Classy, I know.  (Bonus points shall be awarded for not getting a drop of puke on my white vintage slip and Frye boots.)

ROMY XX FILLMOREAfter I regained my composure, I returned to the main floor to join my friends.  Then I knelt down and puked again – all water – and I think I got a little on my flip-flop wearing friend’s foot.  So I owe you a pair of shoes, sorry about that.  Then I stood up like the badass bitch I am and enjoyed the show.  Undignified ralphing aside, this trip provided an extremely valuable shift in perspective that I greatly needed.   MDA

For those of you who care less about my drug use and more about actual music.  The set was short.  I can’t be sure considering my condition, but I think they played a little over an hour.  Both at Coachella and at this show, The xx played this disappointing stripped down version of Crystalised.  The set list is heavy on Coexist, which is the lesser of their efforts in my opinion.  I enjoy how their shows feel more intimate and less theatrical.  This band is about the music and generating an atmosphere of sincere emotional response from the audience even if they often seem personally disconnected while playing. ROMY AND OLIVER

Sunday with Ken Kesey


Venturing out for a gathering tonight?  Remember these simple tips to keep your dignity intact this New Year’s Eve.Have a strategy for getting home or arrange a place to crash before you go out.  The last thing you want to be doing at 2:18 a.m. New Year’s Day is trying to find a cab or foolishly trusting a drunk-ass friend to drive you.  Lazy, opportunistic cops love New Year’s Eve.  The last place you want to spend the night is the drunk tank in county lockup, Trust.  Plan ahead bitches.  For the record, hoping for a one night hook-up does not constitute a legit plan.Please resist the temptation to dress like a disco ball and call it “festive.”  Tonight, expect to see a hot mess of metallic wherever you go.  Buck the obvious choice, and you’ll stand out against a sea of tired frocks.  If you already have a sparkler lined up, it better be the best shit ever.  Seriously, ill-fitting metallic looks so budget.  Regardless, wear a damn coat.  Shivering is not chic.If someone hands you a bong or a joint, puff-puff-pass.  No sleeping in the grass.  If you stumble into a room where people are doing blow, don’t inquire loudly, “Is that coke!?”  Clean up after yourself.  Don’t pee on the seat.  Share your drugs.  Take one before you take two.  If you are rolling, maintain your composure.  Nobody wants your emotional ebarf all over them.  Stay away from pharmaceuticals.  Drink water.  Eat dinner.  Sometimes puking is the best solution.  Keep a level-headed bitch in your crew.

Never be the first to arrive or the last to leave.  Don’t flirt with someone else’s date.  Absolutely no catfighting, crying, or public relationship drama allowed.  Bring cash.  Nudity will surely end up on the internet.  Keep your clothes on.Most of all loves, thanks for your visit.  Wishing you the most phenomenal and blessed year of your life.  Smooches, DC