Am I going to some of the summer’s hottest music festivals, you ask? No, of course not. I’m just not that cool anymore. I got a job, a girl, and a two-car garage (on top of my head only). Plus, I’ve been there.
The post undergrad 20′s are best serve when they invest in two music festivals per calendar year. By the time your girlfriend delves into her “I can’t handle crowds” phase at 28, you find the couch to be a more palatable leisure activity anyway. Trust me, you want wood floors and walls adorned with framed, black and white stock photography. Beats the hell out of fighting in tents.
But you my friend are young, dumb, and full of cum. You and “the boys” or “the girls” are getting together for an “epic” weekend of music, booze, and drugs. And I sincerely wish you all the best. So, from the bottom of my bowels, I present to you my tried and true festival notes. See you on the other side.