Deep Fried Strawberries!

I’ve never had so much fun at such a pathetically organized event. Here’s how it went down.

The reason we had even decided to come to this “festival” was our friend M.B. It was his birthday and we wanted to surprise him by taking him here. Surprise him by kidnapping him and whisking him away, that is.

Seriously.

We arrived at an apartment near the Hollywood Billiards where he was helping some folks shoot a movie. When his brother, who was orchestrating this, informed us M.B. was leaving, we all gathered outside the entrance to the building, donned pantyhose over our heads (not me, I was in a passive mood that morning – avoiding all such entanglements) and literally kidnapped him. Grabbed him (more like a dogpile), put a blindfold over his eyes, attempted to tie his hands, threw a blanket over him and carried him to the back of our getaway vehicle. Hey, what’s a little kidnapping between friends.

Of course, M.B. knew almost immediately who was doing this to him, and as no passersbys seemed to give a shit what was happening, I can only assume they realized our freshly wrapped friend was not in any danger.

The festival’s website touted 75 bands. What they failed to mention was that only 75 people were to show up to this thing. Quite sad. I think we only saw one song of one band. We had more interest in drinking and purchasing organic soy clothing. It was a fun day of hanging out in a field.

The meal I purchased was pretty dreadful. A soggy chicken wrap. Dreadful, however, I finished every bite of it. The best meal purchased is pictured above. Quite nice. A healthy way of getting our lycopene.

We left after security announced that the main two bands for the day had cancelled. I’m assuming they took one look at the crowd and skedaddled. I’ll never forget one of the acts, a girl with a guitar on stage singing and telling the usual song origin stories to a raucous crowd of exactly one person.

The best part of the day was the ride home, inside a vehicle who’s passengers were highly un-sober. The tell-tale sign was everyone bouncing around screaming along to the song of one of the artists who had cancelled. Paying homage, if you will.