I will NOT be attending this year's Coachella. I just can't do it. Maybe it's because I'm old. Maybe it's because I'm back with the Traveling CEO and I want to be a good woman. Maybe it's because Jem GF and I are on the SoberTrain. I don't know. All I know is that I will NOT be riding in that car with the Man-In-Black who chases Child Models and DKNY parties. I will NOT be listening to the Redhead Heiress Demon Seed talk about where Leo lives. Or if the Beckhams bought that house by Tom and Katie. What does she know? I'm the one that used to starfuck, I know where all those fools live. BOOYA!!
The Girlfriends and I were the biggest fans of Coachella. For YEARS. But I see it becoming very commercial. It's not cool anymore. When a hooker loving felon says he's going to Coachella, you gotta step back and think for a minute. HE WAS IN JAIL FOR 8 YEARS. WHAT DOES HE KNOW ABOUT 'MY MORNING JACKET'? Nan. Nothin'. Nada. Or when you find yourself bowing Heidi and Spencer in the ribcage to get a glimpse of Mastodon backstage, something is really wrong! Especially because they think they are there to see the Jonas Brothers!
Then Jem GF tells me that our friends, Club Poorman and Pineapple Express are going because quote, "Every hot chick I know is going, I gotta go to Coachella", it just solidifies my point. See where I'm coming from?!
So listen. If you're one that's heading to Indio with a pocket-full of Ecstasy, just remember this. You will come back with Herpes, a hangover, and will probably be a little pregnant.
Don't say I didn't warn you- Barbie GF
2 comments:
Ha! If you're a little bit preg, does that mean you can only drink light beer and smoke light cigarettes?
Once I accidentally went there with some touring pals, but was ill-prepared. I had to wear the same jeans, high-as-fuck-heels, and Detroit Redwings tshirt for two days. Then my touring friends had to drive to Phoenix. Then my phone died and the friend of a friend I was supposed to hitch a ride back with was unable to call me. Then the touring friends' labelmate's manager said I could get a ride back with her and her husband and friend. Then halfway back to L.A. in the dark, she got too tired to drive and stopped at a hotel. Then we all slept on top of the bedspreads and her wasted husband woke up and took off all his clothes and peed in the shower while standing not in the shower. I didn't wake up, but they were very apologetic in the morning. I only had ten bucks, which I gave them when we got back to L.A. for gas money. Then I walked from their hotel on Sunset to a coffee shop, where I spent a few quarters on some coffee and called the friend I was staying with to come get me. Then Stephen Dorff came in to get coffee. At least I think it was him. Gross.
Coachella blows, it's for grubby children.
LOLOL!
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