Before we get started, if you’re into reading and shit, I just finished reading Bossypants by Tina Fey and it’s DELIGHTFUL. She’s funny and clever and self-deprecating and tells stories about how awesome Alec Baldwin is. I felt smarter just reading it.
Also, I read it on kindle which is one of my favourite things to do, because I feel like I’m living in the future.
And if you’re into people in armour and all things nerdy, am currently obsessed with Game of Thrones. If I have to go to prison for illegally downloading, I would like it to be for this show.
But I promised a Coachella post, and dammit if I won’t deliver!
Are there some bits I don’t want to tell you about? Perhaps there are. I do some really embarassing stuff, so I like to limit the amount I put on here to just the highlights, like the time I accidentally SMS-ed Ryan Girdler, or the time I woke up with leaves in my hair.
And are there some things I don’t remember? Perhaps there are. Sometimes a girl just needs to cut loose, you know?
As for the rest of it, here goes.
1. THE CLICHES ARE TRUE
The last few times I’ve been to LA I’ve stayed in Santa Monica and spent my time tooling around on 1970s low-rider bicycles down to Venice Beach, buying friendship bracelets from the nutters on the boulevard, and eating onion rings with margarita chasers.
This time when we stayed in LA, we crashed at the Roosevelt in Hollywood and the LA cliches were all Right There. Lauren Conrad walking through the lobby! (perfect hair and super super skinny legs in leather leggings). Samantha Ronson bowling in the Spare Room! (she looks like you’d think she looks). Billy Zane at the next table over at the Chateau Marmont! (he’s kind of bloated and dresses like a Central American drug trafficker). David Beckham coming to the hotel for lunch!
I don’t get a ladyboner for Becks but I will say that in profile he is one of the most objectively beautiful men I’ve ever seen. Like Jared Leto. Like you could lick that face. It’s the same way I feel about Diane Kruger.
I saw Becks in his button-down shirt and a beanie and sunnies, but apparently when he pulled in to the driveway to give his car to the valet he was wearing an insane shiny black plastic wig over his hair.
I don’t know if this makes me vain, but I think I would rather get caught on camera by TMZ than look like this.
Meanwhile next time I stay there I’m challenging Samantha Ronson to a bowl-off because I am REALLY GOOD AT IT. Who knew? Add it to the list of reasons people assume I’m a massive lez. Right under ‘wears flannies and tracksuit pants from Lowes’, ‘played softball in year eight’ and ‘loves footy’.
Turns out – like most things – bowling is more fun when you can do it while drinking. Also CHECK MAH SWEET RENTAL SHOES.
2. YOUR GEOGRAPHY TEACHER WAS RIGHT
So on day two we picked up our car and discovered … it wasn’t there. You know when you book a car for 10am? Well in America, bitches better turn up at 10am, or they give it to someone else. Why? Who knows. It’s a mystery, like why you tip the person who brings your bags to your room, but you don’t tip the guy who brings your rental car round from the lot. They’re both JUST DOING THEIR JOBS. WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE? IF I’M NOT MEANT TO TIP EVERYONE JUST GIVE THEM BADGES OR SOMETHING SO I KNOW ALREADY.
The point is you will end up driving the only car they have left, which will be an eight seater Yukon the size of a regular 2 bedroom apartment, on the freeway out to Palm Desert. And you had better not have spent the night before drinking absinthe cocktails and dancing in Hemmingways like I did, or it will be one of the most painful days of your life.
As for Palm Desert, it has lots of old people and golf courses and resorts and flamingos. So it’s kind of like … Florida without the ‘gators. And the desert in general … is really really hot. So hot you want to weep. Mrs Pizzinga was right.
3. MY ST GEORGE BANK TELLER WAS RIGHT
Two days before I left Sydney I poodled on into the bank to get some american dollars so the LAX cab driver wouldn’t yell at me again for trying to pay for my ride with a creddie. The dude asked where I was going, then told me “one of the other tellers went to Coachella. He said it was a …. loose occasion”.
Judging by this photo, I was so worried about the loose occasion, I considered hiding my possessions, prison-style.
Jason obviously knows his stuff, because Coachella is pretty much powered by medicinal marijuana, and acid is apparently back in fashion. Which means there are no aggro drunk guys in watermelon helmets, but lots of stoned people who might accidentally catch your hair on fire. You win some, you lose some.
4. DON’T TRUST A SEAMAN
Thanks to the lovely and generous Anella from EMI, we wrangled some VIP passes for the festival. And can I just say … those VIP bitches have it sweet.
In the 38 degree desert heat, the VIP sections have grass, no lines for booze, an air-conditioned bar, special fans to mist you with cool water, not to mention amazing celeb sightings like Alexa Chung, one of the Clarins sisters, Prince, Paul McCartney, Daria Werbowy, Dan Patch and Gale Harold from Hellcats, McLovin, Ke$ha, and I can’t exactly remember the rest.
I do remember seeing Pacey from Dawson’s Creek though, and I may lost my shit a little. I am so uncool.
If you need us, we’ll be by the taco stand. Mmmmm mexican.
But it’s not all fun and taco stands. I learned that you might make friends with a crazy bartender who looks like Gary Busey dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and a captain’s hat, but just cause he tells you you’re pretty doesn’t mean he’s not ripping you off $4 every drink. To think I tipped that guy! Screw you, seaman!
5. AUSSIES GOTTA STICK TOGETHER
So many of the bands were so, so good. The Strokes are once again awesome, Sleigh Bells blew my mind, Kanye was incredible until he started playing chariots of fire and being a douchebag, Robyn was a dance-party-extravaganza and so was Chromeo, Bright Eyes and the National (I only saw a few songs) were heartbreaking, Alison Mosshart from the Kills is the hottest bitch ever, Cold War Kids are really good at festivals, but two of my faves were the little Aussie bands.
America is in love with Cut Copy and the Presets and they both killed it. Well done, Aussie boys!
6. MILK WAS A BAD CHOICE
So here’s how the story ends: after the third day and night of the festival, we trekked home, slept, got up and got ready to pick up our car (on time) and head back to LA. About halfway up the freeway I felt a little woozy, then a little nauseated. I announced that maybe it might, you know … be kind of a good idea to pull over, at some point, just anywhere that’s convenient, if …. OH MY GOD PULL OVER NOW NOW NOW I’M NOT GONNA MAKE IT.
Of course on a freeway driving on the wrong side of the road pulling over isn’t that easy.
Which is how I ended up puking chocolate milk into an empty paper Starbucks bag in the passenger seat of a Chevy somewhere outside Palm Springs.
Ron Burgundy was right, I really really regret buying that delicious refreshing chocolate milk.
Ron Burgundy is always right.