Poisoning Myself: Coachella Edition

As a twentysomething living in LA, I was required by state law to pay roughly $300 and drive two hours to the desert land of Indio to attend a festival called Coachella. Coachella is the Navajo term for "large gathering of dehydrated white people." This is where the people of my generation come to discover innovative ways to indiscretely piss themselves and devalue their livers--all while in the nude. Despite everyones predictions, I did not die of heat stroke in a porta potty. However, I realized that I had never eaten so much fast food and Pepto Bismol chewies in my entire life.


Being the smart person that I am, I pre-partied for 3 nights before I actually went to Coachella. My fellow hosebeast, Tina was visiting LA and we thought that it would be appropriate to completely ruin ourselves before spending 3 days in the desert. Night #2 consisted of Drai's, Jack in the Box, Stoli, Modelo Tall Boys, and Zico Waters (because we are responsible, young women.) That backfired because Zico Waters have the power detonate explosives in my stomach.


Coachella Day 1: What should have taken me 2 hours, took 5 hours after braving LA traffic on a Friday night. Got to Coachella right before the Black Keys set, watched that, and then decided to peace the fuck out after an hour. We retreated back to our hotel to drink Four Loko, make nachos, and do cartwheels/breakdance to the Lion King Pandora station until we caused sufficient brain damage to ourselves.


Coachella Day 2:The Denny's in Palm Springs is THE place to see and be seen. After all, we did spot Jeremy London there. Ordered hash browns with gravy, cheese, and onions because I am hip and have my finger on the pulse of all fried trends.


If I did not make this purchase, my friends would have ditched me and my eyeballs would have shriveled up and fallen out of their sockets.


Spent the morning accidentally tattooing my hair to my neck with temporary tattoos and roaming CVS looking for Justin Bieber memorabilia. Didn't find anything, but I did find this.


Finally saw the love of my life, Lil' B perform and nearly died in a mosh pit. I literally saw a girl emerge from the mosh pit covered in blood....doubtfully her own. It was an affair rich with delusions of grandeur.

Spent the remainder of this day shotgunning beers, people watching on the floor, lying to Egyptians, singing Blackstreet songs in a crowd of unenthused hipsters, urinating like we've never urinated before, and gathering loose bills on the floor at the raver tent. I've realized that the only benefit of being sober around a sea of people that are drugged is that they tend to drop money on the floor.

Coachella Day 3:

Spent the morning perusing the Dollar Tree and having an elegant lunch at McDonald's. Got to the festival and spent the entire day inside the air-conditioned smoking tents drinking milkshakes, smoking cigars, and discussing gnomes at ignorant volumes. Maybe saw a few bands?



The only pictures I took were of my favorite new sandwich from the Shrimp Pimp truck. This is the Victoria sandwich...luscious shrimps, mixed greens, and some kind of spicy aioli. Incredible.

Drank the night away, danced at obnoxious speeds at the Chromeo show, and got mindfucked by Kanye West performing in a ladies blouse. Spent two exhilarating hours not moving in traffic, trying to escape the horseshit infested "parking lot."

Alas, I am back in LA, in Forrest Gump mode and will probably never recover from whatever the hell happened last week. Miraculously, my limbs are all in tact and am still employed.

"Don't Just Eat To Live, Live To Eat"

WHAT'S POPPIN SLIME?? Well you know, I'm just chillin, watching my pigmentally challenged boo Mayer Hawthorne eat dim sum. There is something curiously attractive about a man that films himself talking dirty to a dumpling as he unfolds it and stuffs it into his mouth.



I think my dream would be to sit at a roundtable with Mayer Hawthorne and Delonte West. Paula Deen would spoon feed us mac and cheese and we would all engage in deep, nut-shattering conversation about barbecue sauces. AND THEN we would all engage in a freestyle battle (Paula included) in a KFC parking lot. How do I sign up for the Make A Wish foundation?

.....I guess I should talk about things that happen in reality now.

So, I need to announce that I made Thin Mint Cannoli's because it validates my status as a intellectual (not that it was in question.) My office was having a St. Patty's Day pot luck and I accepted that as an invitation to kick everyones ass. For some reason, pot lucks bring out my competitive spirit and I always go overboard. For Christmas, I brought in a 50 lb tray of baked mac and cheese with 12 different cheeses.


Drove all the way to The Village Bakery in Atwater Village to avoid making my own cannoli shells. You know me, chasing convenience via inconvenience.


Robbed a group of leprechauns standing outside of a Ralphs for these.


Dreamed up the filling myself. Ricotta, peppermint extract, powdered sugar, mini chocolate chips, crushed Thin Mints, and a shit ton of green food coloring. I refuse to feel the embarrassment of showing up to a St. Patty's Day pot luck without green food.


Made a ghettoass piping bag out of a ziplock baggie. Please excuse my nails...I can assure you that they are no longer an abomination.


VOILA! Jesus loses, I win.

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA!!



RAZMULBERRY BITCH

CHAINS AND WHIPS EXCITE ME!!

Rih-Rih is onto something...everything does taste better whipped. If anyone knows where I can find Whipped Lightening in California, let a bitch know because I needed alcoholic whipped cream in my life like yesterday. LEGALIZE IT!!

ALLOW ME TO UNVEIL MY LATEST CALORIC FAILURES/VICTORIES!!


Went to Hama Sushi in Little Tokyo with my co-workers and it was legit. They only have straight sushi here and none of that weird cream cheese shit, which leads me to believe that this is a dignified institution. If I had things my way, I'd have a gut full of red snapper sashimi and spicy tuna handrolls from Hama at all times.


Mr. Q Cumber cucumber soda from Wurstkuche. I know what you're thinking...why the fuck would I order soda from a place that has 10,000 different beers on tap? I'm not sure, but I am happy I made this mistake because it tasted like fairies were doing pirouettes on my crotch.


Paddy Rice on Melrose is a boughie type pho spot in my neighborhood. Lychee iced tea...fuckwidit.


Usually I don't fuck with pho that isn't prepared in a rusty Vietnamese kitchen sink, but this places claim to fame isn't their authenticity...it's their meatballs in the pho. It's like having a bomb Italian meatball in your pho. Also, try their chicken wings. Fucking amazing.




It's hard to find good coffee in LA. There certainly isn't a shortage of coffee places, but the majority of places don't take pride in the quality of their coffee. Nothin but BAMMER. However, Cafecito Organico> on Heliotrope and Melrose got that artisan coffee roasting on lock. Got a little Cafecito in my system and I was FLYING.


The Carlos Benedict from Madame Matisse in Silverlake. Poached eggs & hollandaise on top of a potato pancake, spinach, smoked salmon, and capers. Whoever the fuck Carlos is, he's a GENIUS. Give a Carlos a raise for crying out loud.

You may remember a few posts back that I was impregnated by Mexican food and it looks as though I've given birth to our love child...his name Birdman Jr. Eleventh Grade. So precious :)