A Hippy Fest of a Weekend: Grassroots 2013

Monday blues. I have 'em. Apparently Whitney gave me hers too since she's feeling all chipper down there in Florida for some reason. But not this girl, because she was bitten by the depression bug yesterday. It happens to me every time my vacations come to an end and it's also been happening every time I have to leave home to come back to the city. Stick the two together and only make me work three out of the past twenty three days and you might just have to take all sharp objects away from me. But let's get to this recap before the bug climbs its way into your screen and bites you too. 

I got home really late last Wednesday night so the first thing I did Thursday morning was, yep you guessed it, play with the little lady. And this little lady isn't so little anymore so the next thing I did was, yep you guessed it, cry. Just kidding, I followed her around the yard and started snapping pictures of her, duh. She really wasn't too pleased since she pulled a couple Kanye "I walk into poles while the paps are following me" moves. Silly little nugget.

My lil broski and his girlfriend also came home from Boston with their own dog, Dutch. He's not named after a country, if ya know what I mean. I introduced you to him a long time ago here and now he's all grown up into a handsome man who won't eat his food unless you spill it onto the floor for him. But having him home meant we had three yellow labs running around chasing each other so it was basically a zoo full of heaven around the house.

On Friday I had the pleasure of going to the dentist. Thanks mom for making that appointment for me. And yes my mom still makes my dentist appointments for me. Never growing up. But anyway, Dr. Dentist told me that my wisdom teeth are finally ready to get the hell on out of my twelve year old sized mouth. My dentist's words, not mine. Sorry future husband. So obviously this was such an exciting moment for me, not, which is why it was a super spectacular finding my birthday present from Whitsticle in the mailbox as soon as I got my ass out of that dentist's chair. A best friends bracelet from Alex and Ani!

This is also rather annoying though because I now need to find her a present and get it sent to Florida by next week. Shit. If I suck at anything it's getting things to the post office to be mailed. If I suck at anything more than getting things to the post office to be mailed it's finding birthday presents for people. It terrifies me, quite frankly. I'm much more of a "hey I found this awesome present but your birthday is in, oh, nine months so here ya go, just remember I gave this to you when the actual day arrives" type of person. 

So it'd be great if you could all pitch in to my "send Erin on a plane to Orlando and stick a bow on her head" fund because it's too expensive for me to do myself and I'd obviously make the best present ever. Le duh.

Okay enough rambling, lets get to the entire reason for me going home in the first place. Grassroots. It's a music festival that attracts 20,000 people from all over the country to come to my teeny tiny hometown that doesn't even have a single stoplight in it. It's like trying to fit Honey Boo Boo's mom into a thimble. Except for our scenario actually somehow works and doesn't smell like farts and butter. It's also like Christmas for everyone in the area. We count down to it and can't wait for it to get here because it's one big giant reunion of everyone we've ever known. 

Imagine one big hippy fest full of crazy chicks not wearing bras, tie dye, music, food vendors, hand made jewelry, and a bunch of wasted/high/drugged up people trying to have a good time for four days straight and you'll have a pretty good idea of what it's like.

There are a ton of bands, both local and large. My favorite this year was Rusted Root, the people that sing the Matilda song aka "Send Me On My Way". You can bet that I was going somewhat crazy dancing my butt off. Which is also about the time I got into a fight with the group of cracked out hoes who decided to push their way right in front of me. And of course the one that decided to situate herself practically on top of my toes had a bigger bush of hair than Hermione in the first Harry Potter movie so I flipped a few lids. But then I got back to dancing because it was just SO good.

The food was good too (I ate about seven pounds of massaman curry).  So was the people watching (I didn't take nearly enough pictures of the whacked out nonsense). And so was the beer (I couldn't count how many of those went down the pipe).



And now I'm sad even recapping that small portion of pictures so I'm going to give up and go wait for that royal baby to pop itself out into this world. My guess is that it's a girl, her name is Princess Erin Diana (what's their last name?), and she's born today so she can be a Cancer like me before it turns into Leo territory tomorrow. Boom, I've got it. At least there's a little excitement happening so I can stop looking like I did when I arrived in my apartment building lobby last night straight off the bus.

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