The bus / art tours are years on....but there will always be an aspect of "it didn't exist until i heard about it" reflexology, heralding the arrival of the truly burniest.
The me-first mentality lacking any and all manners demands your water / supply sacrifices whimsically chiding that the playa provides.....
And as for the porto-bidets, unless you're using a rubber glove and grey water, the experience is really quite lacking.
Now then, more about me and why i'm so fucking wonderful, and how BM is all for me. Why dirty people like fire i'll never know..........
I simply could not believe that there was so much dust and wind, and that i was expected to ever leave my 40ft Expedition to intermingle with the rabble. My trustfund paid some nameless crew to build my "art", transport & erect it and supply me designer vaginally stored (thanks,paris!) drugs for the 28 hours I graced brc with my presence. At least my driver did a nice parking job blocking 1/5th of the plaza.
It was unconscionable that I had to wait for Marian to finish her interview w/CNN and TMZ, explaining why the man that burned down the Contessa got free tickets this year, while I was relegated to waiting-in-the-wings like some forgotten and overlooked chubby bridesmaid.
And not one person recognized me! I swear I don't know why I even bothered after Bassnectar canceled and Glaude broke my favorite microphone yarbling to the crowd. And where was Daft Punk? I had my VIP wristband and for what? I was promised visibility and I never even got to do my sexy vip stage dance or blast my nips.
After all of that, I barely had satellite phone service, and was told i'd have to wait for my thai food to be flown in since the plane couldn't safely land in whiteout conditions or something. At least when i get back i'll be a level four thetan and have a new red yarn wristband to validate my existence.
Next year, I'm told to show up with no supplies at all, wait by the ticket box w/my "miracle" sign and offer "sensual massage" to every slobberdonkey Isotopia introduces me to, all the while telling them how wrong they are through a megaphone whenever my feather boa blows out of my mouth.
Or maybe I'll just be self-reliant.
twice the age of a twenty-something and half as fast.
**Isotopia, you are my eplaya hero**
your witty rejoinder just flew over my head.....
no trust fund getting supply buying self-reliant non-bankrolled questionable artistic contributor sacrificing electronics at will build it destroy it clean it haul it financially uninterested uber-bot