Break-Dancing Pregnant Ladies and Sh*t-Flinging Hipster Chicks

8:15AM: Lay in bed listening to your 47 year-old roommate singing folk songs in the shower.

8:32AM: In the shower, notice that your razor blade is as dull as a Harrison Ford interview and decide that unshaven legs are appropriate for a day where truck loads of jobless, unshowered trust fund babies arrive into town for the Austin City Limits music festival. The #2 festival in Austin. The Frank Stallone, DeDee Pfeiffer, or Roger Clinton of South by Southwest.

8:45AM: Discover that the road from your house into town is blocked off due to the festival. Drive around for forty-five minutes, then eventually find office located only five miles away.

9:30AM: Curse the words “Austin”, “City”, and “Limits” and laugh maniacally when John Aielli informs radio listeners that it will rain all weekend.

9:31: Arrive at the office delirious and hungry. Office is vacant due to your co-workers shooting footage at the festival. Start a one person Michael Jackson dance party.

9:32AM: Dawns on you that you are white and dance like David Byrne. A wave of sadness washes over you.

9:55AM: Boss unexpectedly arrives at the office and you quickly put your pants back on.

9:56AM: Boss presents you with ACL tickets.

9:57AM: Deeply seated hatred for ACL suddenly turns into a vast and generous love.

10:32AM-12:40PM: Try to figure out who the hell is playing the festival.

12:41PM-7:00PM- Spend the entire afternoon doing work, trying to desperately make the Phoenix show at 5:30PM, which you do not.

7:22PM Watch Andrew Bird from onstage. Unknowingly stand next to Britt Daniel. Glad you passed on the burrito with beans earlier that day.

7:50 PM Tell all your friends at the festival that you’ll be over to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs concert shortly, but secretly plant yourself in front of the Kings of Leon stage.

8:05PM Heartbreakingly realize that Caleb Followill’s face looks highly disproportionate in certain angles and lose your hypothetical boner.

8:45: Text reply back to your friends that you’re deep into the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s show and that they will never find you, all the while sitting in front of the Kings of Leon stage trying desperately to bring the boner back.

9:05AM: Finally admit that every Kings of Leon song sounds the same and leave.

9:10PM: Leave the grounds while watching the Yeah Yeah Yeahs stage. See Karen O. wearing some sort of metallic ski mask and discover you could potentially get your boner back.

Over the course of the rest of the evening I watch a pregnant woman break dance and beautiful hipster girls nearly through feces at each other in the Beauty Bar. When 3AM roles around, I watch the eyes of the city shut it’s lids for only a few hours and play on the stereo, “This Must Be the Place…”