Treasure Island 2011

Let's take a stroll down memory lane, shall we?

I'll leave this in its original form.


Good morning young whipper snappers!


I come back from a whirlwind weekend of helping a friend move in, Santa Cruz, and the Treasure Island Music Festival!

So, first off, Ashlee and I helped our friend (No longer a friend because she dumped us) A move from very close to campus to close to Golden Gate Park. Her new place is this old Victorian with two parlors, two staircases (indoor and outdoor), a naked bronze statue at the base of the banister and a creepy feeling. This mansion turned boarding house has four bedrooms, one of which has a walk-in closet and small water closet fully equipped with toilet and sink. Now, in our mad-dash to move things in, Ashlee left me with the house and the stuff from our first schlepp. My job was to move the stuff from the base of the outdoor stairs to the lobby and wait for her to come back with reinforcements who came in the form of our friend's loyal ex boyfriend.

As I dragged the heavy shit up and down the marble stairs, I could feel the sweat drip down my back. It happened to be one of the rarest things you'll ever see in San Francisco, a hot summery day. The house, as result, felt like an oven. I proceeded to open all the windows, stand outside to cool off, but nothing helped. I continued to sweat as I decided to bring all her booze, cast-iron skillet, drawers, and whatnot up the indoor stairs to her room. That day I exerted more physical energy than I had in my own move up to San Francisco.

When I had finished all that, I waited. I was, of course, without my purse which meant without my wallet, tissue, water, phone...unable to know what was going on. I expected my girlfriend back at any second. Seconds became minutes. Minutes became half hours. Half hours became hours as sun fell to dusk. I slumped in the solitary chair in her new room, panting and sweating, watching the sunset.

Ashlee and Allo finally came. I went outside and stood in front of Ashlee as Allo moved more things into the house. I asked what took them so long. She told me it had only been 30 minutes. Then I proceeded to cry and tell her I thought they had been in a car crash and no one would have thought to call me and that I thought about walking home and trying to figure out what hospital they were in but it was such an awfully long way back through SF at night...

Ashlee enveloped me in a hug. Then mentioned I had BO. How bad? I asked. About a 4. She told me.

We do things on a scale out of 10. How bad do you have to pee? Anything bigger than a 6 is worth stopping at a bathroom for. How hungry are you? Etc.

So her saying a 4, meant probably a 7, because she wanted to be nice which means I stank.

So that was the jist of the crazy move. Santa Cruz was much more mellow. I got to see a childhood friend and her boyfriend. I went to the boardwalk with Ashlee and her friend Cathy where we were for Cathy's birthday. Cathy even paid for all the rides, including the Giant Dipper-6th oldest roller coaster, that we went on. We had a grand old time. I bought this epic cookie sandwich. Life was good.

Then Sunday was Treasure Island.

Warpaint is this all girl band with sassy hats and strut.

St. Vincent consists of a girl with no bra on and a bass guitar which she strums meaningfully with politically charged vocals and made everyone feel a little awkward.

Beach House was amazing. I now have a crush on the sweetly sexy lead singer.

Explosions in the Sky should be renamed Earthquakes in the Sky. I could literally feel my sternum vibrating and the ground shake. But they were intense and sort of made me sleepy.

Death Cab for Cutie was, to be honest, a little disappointing. Don't get me wrong. I love them. I hardcore love them. But Ben Gibbard looked like Animal from the Muppets with the way his shag was. Ben, please, get a haircut if you're going to perform. They played Photobooth, The New Year, Doors from their new album... no songs that I hardcore love. Which was pretty much why they were disappointing.