Only one can be queen.

Bonnaroo!

The Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival is a four-day, multi-stage camping festival held on a beautiful 700-acre farm in Manchester, Tennessee every June. Bonnaroo brings together some of the best performers in rock and roll, along with dozens of artists in complementary styles such as jazz, Americana, hip-hop, electronica, and just about any contemporary music you can think of. In addition to dozens of epic performances, the festival's 100-acre entertainment village buzzes around the clock with attractions and activities including a classic arcade, on-site cinema, silent disco, comedy club, theater performers, a beer festival, and a music technology village. For its peaceful vibe, near-flawless logistics, and unrivaled entertainment options, Rolling Stone magazine named this revolutionary entertainment experience one of the 50 moments that changed the history of rock and roll…

Above is a picture of, what can only be described as a utopia for music lovers and hippies everywhere. People come from all over the country to park their cars, RVs, bicycles, whatever got them there, next to their tents or blankets to sleep on, and gather with the millions of other people that they don’t know to enjoy the best three days of music since Woodstock. This generation’s (not to mention the past two generations) hippie-nation gather in the small town of TN to take part in this musical bonding that, for most, bring memories that will last a lifetime, and for others, be another three days that you can’t remember but you KNOW were great…

bully.

“It’s backwards again!!!” I screamed brutally in my mother’s face. This was the third dress I had tried on and I was already tired. “Just hold on one minute, for christ’s sake” she yelled back, equally as brutal, unless you consider the fact that I was 10 at the time.  “There,” she smiled that fake, gritty smile, “you see, it fits.” The dress was woven from, what I could only assume to be, the heaviest fucking wool in the world. It was white, so it was pretty, if you were frigid and or laying in a coffin. “Mom, I’m not wearing this. It’s a Christmas Party.” “And you look like a little snowflake!” She said as she held out the sides of the dress to make sure it was nice and loose. “Can I at least try it on in a smaller size? This is falling off me.” Or it would have been if the shackles around my neck weren’t locked shut. She would always insist on a size up. “No, no. It fits fine. Plus, this way you’ll be able to wear it next year, too.” I fucking hate Christmas.