1. Thursday, February 12, 2004

    i got invited today to coachella. 

    the huge rock concert in the desert about 90 minutes away from hollywood.

    two hot chicks might go. together. they may want to be with them. you know what i mean. every mans fantasy. but because i have been assigned the job of living this way so as to report back to you, this fantasy will become a reality.

    heres my only problem.

    im old.

    im 110.

    i look younger than that but its all xbi cgi.

    this is what i want from coachella. i want an old fucks sextion.

    luxury seats at the rock show.

    i want it airconditioned, i want it shaded, i want tv screens. i want it to come with complimentary binaculars so i can see all the lovelies on stage and off, and i want bikini girls to bring me $10 beers (pictured).

    i dont need luxury boxes at the laker game. i need them at the 8 hour rock festival.

    i dont need luxury boxes at the dodger game. i need them so i wont have to stand stand stand during the cure stand stand stand during the pixies stand stand stand during wilco and radiohead.

    sorry, but you really cant dance to those bands and f all of you for pretending that you can.

    how am i gonna rock out to Air or Belle and Sebastian?

    i love the flaming lips but i would rather sit down and enjoy their trippiness without some dumb frat dick in front of me in my way.

    death cab, bright eyes, you will know us by the trail of the dead: i want to watch those bands not get crushed by college kids standing on their tip toes to get a good view.

    i want a cushioney seat, i want a place to put my visa card so i can charge EVERYTHING including my chocolate ice cream in my commemorative cup.

    and yes, id pay $150 for my seat, per day.

    build it and charge my lazy olde ass, hippies.

    the entire coachella lineup + bunny is going too!