i can't believe it's happening
15 active IM windows and massive hangover = wacky Tuesday afternoon for Nora. But seriously... this past weekend and last night also has turned me into some sort of screamo groupie. Not good! Not that driving around like a maniac in a white Jersey mobile rental car wasn't fun, involving the necessary stops at IHOP, Target, and cheap scary motel next to abandoned parking lot.
I spent a day and a half surrounded by angsty HOT screamo new jersey boys, had a water bottle thrown at me by the lead singer of the band Nora, who later appologized and wanted to make out (go figure...?), and fell in love with Kill Hannah after I didn't like them before for NO LOGICAL REASON. So much eyeliner. Crashing guitars. Mmmmmm.
The only other things I saw that I liked was a band called The Fight from the UK, HIM (confusing name and all), and onelinedrawing. I end up with Boruki and Chris Nomorepompadour, the guys from Nora and Funeral for a Friend at some godawful bar across the street from the festival, where someone steals Matt Pinfields jacket, Chris burns my palm with a cigarette, and some really really small boy in a Nora hoodie who is drunk beyond belief takes a picture with me.
Then we go to a place called Wonderbar, which strongly resembles the Bada Bing! club from Sopranos, poles and all. New Jersey is disgusting, ok? Bars close at 2. WTF. I ate a hotdog outside, because I'm disgusting. Boruki has a picture of me with it.... don't ask.
Somehow this all ends at a Duncan Donuts and the floor of hotel room halfway back to New York but don't ask me how that worked itself out. Yay screamo NJ?!
Last night I went to see Funeral for a Friend at the Continental, and it was like an oven in there. I had to drink three massive vodka tonics to keep from over heating. HAD TO, you see. Then I got to Pianos, Rob forced me to eat french fries (FORCED ME, obviously...), and I did tequila shots with Jocelyn and waxed poetic with Harley from White Light Motorcade about how utterly wrong "I want a famous face" is and something about how John Lennon and Kurt Cobain are legends because they died young but maybe they would be if they hadn't or at least not in the same way or idon'tevenfuckingknowwhatweweretalkingabout??
The end.
15 active IM windows and massive hangover = wacky Tuesday afternoon for Nora. But seriously... this past weekend and last night also has turned me into some sort of screamo groupie. Not good! Not that driving around like a maniac in a white Jersey mobile rental car wasn't fun, involving the necessary stops at IHOP, Target, and cheap scary motel next to abandoned parking lot.
I spent a day and a half surrounded by angsty HOT screamo new jersey boys, had a water bottle thrown at me by the lead singer of the band Nora, who later appologized and wanted to make out (go figure...?), and fell in love with Kill Hannah after I didn't like them before for NO LOGICAL REASON. So much eyeliner. Crashing guitars. Mmmmmm.
The only other things I saw that I liked was a band called The Fight from the UK, HIM (confusing name and all), and onelinedrawing. I end up with Boruki and Chris Nomorepompadour, the guys from Nora and Funeral for a Friend at some godawful bar across the street from the festival, where someone steals Matt Pinfields jacket, Chris burns my palm with a cigarette, and some really really small boy in a Nora hoodie who is drunk beyond belief takes a picture with me.
Then we go to a place called Wonderbar, which strongly resembles the Bada Bing! club from Sopranos, poles and all. New Jersey is disgusting, ok? Bars close at 2. WTF. I ate a hotdog outside, because I'm disgusting. Boruki has a picture of me with it.... don't ask.
Somehow this all ends at a Duncan Donuts and the floor of hotel room halfway back to New York but don't ask me how that worked itself out. Yay screamo NJ?!
Last night I went to see Funeral for a Friend at the Continental, and it was like an oven in there. I had to drink three massive vodka tonics to keep from over heating. HAD TO, you see. Then I got to Pianos, Rob forced me to eat french fries (FORCED ME, obviously...), and I did tequila shots with Jocelyn and waxed poetic with Harley from White Light Motorcade about how utterly wrong "I want a famous face" is and something about how John Lennon and Kurt Cobain are legends because they died young but maybe they would be if they hadn't or at least not in the same way or idon'tevenfuckingknowwhatweweretalkingabout??
The end.