April 18, 2012
You know how Muslims are always raving about their hajj's to Mecca? Well, we finally get it. And we didn't even have to google the secret to keeping on a turban. Imagine a place far out in Cali in the middle of the desert, where celebrities are casually boppin around and people are more fucked up than Girl Interrupted. Oh and there's like a lot of music. This, betches, is our holy land. It's fucking Coachella.
If you don't understand what Coachella is, it's okay, most people who live under a rock or have no friends don't. Coachella is like...the Coachella of music festivals. It is what it is. Let it do what it does. It's a three day rager where everyone dresses in their finest hippie garb and frolics amongst the coolest of celebs. It's what we imagine Woodstock would have been like except with more security but just as many drugs.
There are a lot of people who camp out for all three days but betches don't participate in such bougie endeavors. We get villas or stay at nice hotels. If I wanted to sleep in a tent I would have, well, just not fucking come. Once you get there your biggest concern should not be what act to see first, but instead where to hide your drugs. Coke in our bras, molly in our thongs, and weed somewhere in between. If you chicken out you should just go back home. Get over it. For three days you'll be a Mexican cartel who actually gets to do the drugs you're smuggling, so just have the best time of your life and remember, don't be the asshole who loses the vial. That's a one way ticket to having a bad fucking time.
Next you have to get past the really tight security. And by tight we mean they split you into lines of male and female for what feels very much like the holocaust round ups. After about three security check points and 30 minutes of what could easily be classified as sexual harassment, you're finally in. Drugs intact, this is going to be epic.
At first the feeling that runs through your body is overwhelming. Sure your shit might be kicking in but the scene you're witnessing is fucking crazy. You're Alice and this is your wonderland. There are giant sculptures everywhere, wild art dispersed through the endless beer gardens, Absolut vodka bars, food stands, and really sick lounges full of people indistinguishable from circus clowns and the A listers. If you don't go to a sponsored party with celebs you might as well stay home and cry.
There are five stages and it's impossible to see every act. So choose wisely. Kaskade was something we never thought we'd experience in our lives. It was like floating towards the light and at the gates of heaven God greets you and is all like yo betch you're fucking tripping. Black keys were dope, SHM, Ingrosso, Solveig, Gotye, Alesso, Madeon, Porter Robinson, Dada Life. GOD GOD GOD. I think my roll is kicking back in just talking about it.
We can only wonder how many people tried to go backstage to fuck Tupac...
After the total madness and pure magic of each set you have some time between acts to grab a beer at the Heineken sponsored beer gardens. Usually we don't drink beer but we also usually never strike up conversation with Lauren Conrad about how she really really likes our shoes. Omg I love your bracelet where did you get it? Seriously though, Heineken killed it, totally sponsored the whole thing, fucking business.
Things we didn't like:- The endless walking, matzah was turning into fucking bread- Pregnant ladies and people showing up with their young kids. Gotye's next single should be about fetal alcohol syndrome or intense crack addictions because that would probably be these mothers' anthem.- Couldn't see everything we wanted to see because so many were playing at the same time.- No cell service so if you lost your friend to a really sexy tree you would have no idea- Porta potties (don't even know how to spell that shit)
Things we liked:- the fashion, it was like being at a really chic grassy dirt colored carpet- people being really generous with their drugs- the insane lights- muploads of the Ferris Wheel
Do:- download the Coachella app- pregame before and on the shuttle- bring pre-rolled joints, thank me later
Don't:-ask a cop for molly.
So betches, if you weren't at Coachella last weekend, and are going this weekend we wish you the best time of your life. And may the drugs be ever in your favor.