I guess I can't lead off this blog post with "Oh my god you guys" because I can't repeat myself like that in good conscience. Still, despite my usual ability to spin a story out of anything, I'm completely at a loss for words. People of Brooklyn, you know how to fucking party. I'd say revel in it, but if you're anything like me (sore and your body crying out for alcohol) reveling is the last thing on your mind. This recap going up on Tuesday as opposed to Monday, for instance, is a direct result of my having an after-party on my roof and being up drinking until SUNRISE.
Here's a stat: Bird Dog bought twenty thirty-six packs of premium Budweiser beer and we ran out of them well before the party was over. You animals drank seven hundred and twenty beers and then demanded more! One of you was so drunk and spoiled that you thought you could claim to have been Saturday night's bartender and come back to the trough and steal the beer that belonged to my friends and me. Listen up you fucking waif: being young and pretty doesn't last forever, so don't get used to trying to pull that shit. Furthermore, don't get angry when you get called out, that's just embarrassing.
Sorry, didn't mean to get angry. Sunday night was great even if the cops came and even if you all eventually disregarded the whole thing about not throwing bottles off the roof. It probably makes me a shitty official festival blogger but I can't pick a standout band because the music was incidental to me running around with my shirt off and trying to figure out how many beers I could fit in my body in one weekend. How were Darlings? I wanted to see them but by the time they were on I was, well, this is where I was at:
I don't know about the love Sunday night either. I definitely saw some of you getting close to each other Saturday. All I saw Sunday was a drunken couple having one of those cringe-worthy arguments that happen in public sometimes, what with the grabbing and the crying and the carrying on like no one else is around. I'm sure they're nice people otherwise.
Aside from the fact that it brought the wrath of New York's finest, kudos to the person or persons who brought fireworks with them. Troy Patterson might think otherwise, but Sunday night, there was something about those magnificent whistles and pops that made the atmosphere that much anarchic and celebratory.
I don't know, I think this post was kind of downer. I didn't mean for it to be, I'm just sad that it's all over. BUT! Stay tuned for another post or two about what did it all mean and what does the future hold.