Man did I trash my voice this weekendish.
THURSDAY:
I saw POTUSA on thursday, and shouted out every lyric to every song they played. Sweet. Some chickies tried to dance with my ass too, but I was too busy trying to crowd surf. 14 year-old kids just don't know how to hold people up. In the end, it turned out the girlies were Eugene hi-schoolers trying to score beer. Curious, but I still hold to my "no one under 20" ruling on this one. All in all, a fun night, pretty people, and much horseness.
FRIDAY:
Battle of the Bands. Hells yeah. I get off work at four and after scoring a mixed Full Sail sixer (with the intent of drinking in the beer garden later), arrive at the KBVR tent and the night begins. At about 7:30, I have gotten a sufficeint buzz thanks to Leah's wodka and a few shitty sodas, and am having a roaring good time. Holerin' at folks and talking loud, and enjoying a huge crowd outside to enjoy some music in the quad. Fuck school; that is what college is about! I'm scheduled to be en cargado from 9-10 pm, and by the time I'm of, my buzz is down to a mere hum. But lo, the beer garden Nazis (ie: the OLCC) gives me the shaft by closing the garden to everyone an hour before the event ends. Some rules or shit. Seriously, what the fuck? Anyway, so after mcuh sneeking about the tent, alcohol is again consumed and the KBVR cronies retire to the station to continue the swervin and spend about four hours talking about music, station politic emo crap, and, oddly enough, who is the most "scene". I lost. After walking to La Conga and more talk about indie rock and underground hip-hop as it applies to the Mainstream with Leah, I finally get home and sleep at 6am. Much more horseness.
SUNDAY:
Key Bank World Music Festival. Saturday Jr. I get up at ten to find out why my car is dead and would not drive Leah and me to Shari's the night before, sparking rumors that I had to deny, though in retrospect, would have been funny. At 11, I discover the culprit: I am a douche. I drive a 1970 VW Beetle, and it has no alarm to warn me when it's still light out (for example, when it's 4:30 in the afternoon) that, "hey, you left the lights on, dumbfuck!" like all the cars made nowadays. So shit, I'm a chode, or whatever. My car starts not. No matter, for there is music afoot. I get to the booth at three-ish to discover I am the only dude to not be hung the fuck over. Score. The music is kinda lame and the area is somber/sober. I did score some good fajitas at the little food booth thing tho. At 6pm, I head off to hook up mi hermano with some adult beverage (still playing by the under-20 rule). On the way to the liquor store, I run into a couple of dudes who complimented me on my pintail and, after some discussion, discover they are frying balls on shrooms, looking for hills to go bombing, and some hooch. After a ride to the liquor store, I get heartily stoned courtesy of some DANK buddha from my new friends Dan and John. After skating back to the fest at 7:30, I proceed to get the drink on. Again from Leah's wodka. (editorial note: HRD is the worst shit ever shat out of the god of shitty alcohol's ass. But, quoth Leah, "it gets the job done.") Then a girl, who I later learn is named Clarie, decides I make a good balance, and after she sobers up, she buys me beer in the Full Sail garden. Vindication! I am now blitzed as hell, and enjoying myself. After the garden, and some shit shooting in the KBVR office again, I end up hanging out with Claire and my roomie, getting blazed again, and going to bed at something like 8 or 9am. Much much much soreness.
Today I have been so tired, It's like that soreness you have after really working out hard. It's a pain, but it means you had a lot of fun. My throat, however needs some tea and honey. And I'm off to make more stickers. I may try to do a little self promo action here, so look for scans of stickery fun.
Peace,
Duone DSL DPK
THURSDAY:
I saw POTUSA on thursday, and shouted out every lyric to every song they played. Sweet. Some chickies tried to dance with my ass too, but I was too busy trying to crowd surf. 14 year-old kids just don't know how to hold people up. In the end, it turned out the girlies were Eugene hi-schoolers trying to score beer. Curious, but I still hold to my "no one under 20" ruling on this one. All in all, a fun night, pretty people, and much horseness.
FRIDAY:
Battle of the Bands. Hells yeah. I get off work at four and after scoring a mixed Full Sail sixer (with the intent of drinking in the beer garden later), arrive at the KBVR tent and the night begins. At about 7:30, I have gotten a sufficeint buzz thanks to Leah's wodka and a few shitty sodas, and am having a roaring good time. Holerin' at folks and talking loud, and enjoying a huge crowd outside to enjoy some music in the quad. Fuck school; that is what college is about! I'm scheduled to be en cargado from 9-10 pm, and by the time I'm of, my buzz is down to a mere hum. But lo, the beer garden Nazis (ie: the OLCC) gives me the shaft by closing the garden to everyone an hour before the event ends. Some rules or shit. Seriously, what the fuck? Anyway, so after mcuh sneeking about the tent, alcohol is again consumed and the KBVR cronies retire to the station to continue the swervin and spend about four hours talking about music, station politic emo crap, and, oddly enough, who is the most "scene". I lost. After walking to La Conga and more talk about indie rock and underground hip-hop as it applies to the Mainstream with Leah, I finally get home and sleep at 6am. Much more horseness.
SUNDAY:
Key Bank World Music Festival. Saturday Jr. I get up at ten to find out why my car is dead and would not drive Leah and me to Shari's the night before, sparking rumors that I had to deny, though in retrospect, would have been funny. At 11, I discover the culprit: I am a douche. I drive a 1970 VW Beetle, and it has no alarm to warn me when it's still light out (for example, when it's 4:30 in the afternoon) that, "hey, you left the lights on, dumbfuck!" like all the cars made nowadays. So shit, I'm a chode, or whatever. My car starts not. No matter, for there is music afoot. I get to the booth at three-ish to discover I am the only dude to not be hung the fuck over. Score. The music is kinda lame and the area is somber/sober. I did score some good fajitas at the little food booth thing tho. At 6pm, I head off to hook up mi hermano with some adult beverage (still playing by the under-20 rule). On the way to the liquor store, I run into a couple of dudes who complimented me on my pintail and, after some discussion, discover they are frying balls on shrooms, looking for hills to go bombing, and some hooch. After a ride to the liquor store, I get heartily stoned courtesy of some DANK buddha from my new friends Dan and John. After skating back to the fest at 7:30, I proceed to get the drink on. Again from Leah's wodka. (editorial note: HRD is the worst shit ever shat out of the god of shitty alcohol's ass. But, quoth Leah, "it gets the job done.") Then a girl, who I later learn is named Clarie, decides I make a good balance, and after she sobers up, she buys me beer in the Full Sail garden. Vindication! I am now blitzed as hell, and enjoying myself. After the garden, and some shit shooting in the KBVR office again, I end up hanging out with Claire and my roomie, getting blazed again, and going to bed at something like 8 or 9am. Much much much soreness.
Today I have been so tired, It's like that soreness you have after really working out hard. It's a pain, but it means you had a lot of fun. My throat, however needs some tea and honey. And I'm off to make more stickers. I may try to do a little self promo action here, so look for scans of stickery fun.
Peace,
Duone DSL DPK
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
a big piece of siding fell off and took some gutter with it. if the power lines hadn't stopped it, it would have fallen right on top of my car.
sweet you know leah. I realize now that the danger of posting about people who work at the station, and there was some shit about some kind of stalker some time ago, so I got a little wierded out. sorry. hope there's no hard feelings.
not sweet about your house. that shit sounds way shittier than the shitty shit i've shat in. and sat in too. the worst I got was a gas leak, lukewarm water and some mice. actually falling apart house is teh suk.