One of my favorite things to do on a nice summer morning (when I didn’t spend the night before being irresponsible and intoxicated) is grab a couple of friends and bike to Georgetown. The best way to do that is to take the Capital Crescent Trail, which is a biking/jogging/walking/rollerblading/whatever-ing trail that runs from Silver Spring, MD all the way to Georgetown. Finally, a perk from living in the suburbs.
The trail is awesome: very well kept and scenic and can be accessed just about anywhere in the Maryland and DC area. My favorite spots along the Capital Crescent are Fletcher’s Boat House to go paddle boating, Georgetown Waterfront Park and brunch at Johnny Rocket’s. Last summer, I saw an American Idol contestant, but she was a terrible singer so I tried to cover up my gasp when she walked past. Just trying to show you the cool things about biking to Georgetown.
But seeing as it’s an 11-mile stretch, Georgetown isn’t the only place worth seeing; especially if you live in Georgetown. So why not go the other way and stop by Bethesda, whose downtown area and public pool are great or Silver Spring’s downtown area?
Go to the Farragut North Metro Station on the Red Line (Connecticut and L St. exit) from 12-1pm for free vegetarian hot dogs! Sponsored by Compassion Over Killing (www.cok.net)
Hi, I’m Mina, and I’m interested in the graduate environmental engineering program at Stanford. I’m so happy to be here.
First of all, I’d like to apologize for the tone in parts of my lunch post that was reminiscent of a certain country's presidential candidate crying in a certain primary. That was not my intention; I was just facing defeat and needed a place to recharge my game plan. Plus, didn’t said candidate end up winning that particular contest? I’m just sayin’.
Now back to my alias, Mina, the engineering student. When I first embarked on my search for some sumptuous supper, I was my normal intern self. I headed to Busboy’s & Poets to join the D.C. Humanities Council for a presentation on “Immigrants and Native Washingtonians: When Cultures Collide.” The discussion delved into gentrification, the role of economic status in assimilation and what it really means to be a Washingtonian. We were each given a citizenship test and split up into discussion groups. It was actually very enjoyable and I met some interesting people. But OH YEAH there were a lot of free refreshments! The busboys (and girls) served us espresso, soft drinks and tea and we were free to help ourselves to a large dish of fresh hummus, warm pita bread, an extensive fresh fruit spread and a wide assortment of cheese—cheddar, gouda, brie and Swiss—accompanied by gourmet crackers. I left early with both my brain and belly fully stimulated. But I couldn’t stop there; I had to make up for the fact that I had pieces of cookie for breakfast. Two dinners in a day? Why not? Next stop: crashing a Stanford engineering alumni-only networking event.
I wasn’t able to get into the Washington DC Stanford Association, where the event was held, but just at the right moment a friendly rising Stanford senior let me in and was of assistance. It was then and there that I had to conceal my identity. “Hi, I’m Mina. Can you tell me where the engineering event is?” I felt bad lying to the kid—he was so sweet and called three of his friends before confirming the location of the “How to work a room: networking with strangers” workshop and reception. I made up lies about how I was a recent graduate from Michigan (well that’s basically true; go Blue!) and how I really wanted to pursue environmental engineering. He was eager to join me so I didn’t have to lie to anymore people, just gorge on a delectable meal of savory tenderloin in a light dressing, garden vegetables, roasted red pepper hummus in wine glasses, fruit salad, toasted rolls with butter and a bottle of Perrier water (sparkling water is gross, but I felt pretty classy).
I even got this awesome Stanford Engineering keychain! I hope the admissions people don’t follow the free food-a-thon closely; I might have some problems if I ever try to apply there. Fraud…theft…dishonesty. Awesome.
Who knows what my fate has in store? I’ve tried my hardest to avoid drama by keeping my competitors close and the buffet table closer. While I may not stand for “hope” or “change,” I do stand for bringing an end to hunger; free food for everyone!
While my breakfast quest was not successful (but not for lack of effort), my hungry belly was all the more grateful for the delicious lunch I had at the Federal Facilities Council's forum on High Performance Federal Buildings - Meeting EISA Requirements Through 2030. While Nick and Chenwei snagged breakfast there, my lunch was by far superior to the measly “fruity danishes” and “coffee cake” they snagged.
I gorged on stuffed green peppers on a bed of fresh greens, raw summer vegetables marinated to perfection with an Asian-style dressing and a whole wheat roll.
To top it off, the dessert buffet was breathtaking: I helped myself to a slice of Oreo silk mousse pie, a chocolate chip cookie tart with glazed coconut and stowed a fudgy walnut brownie and couple of gourmet cookies for my peers at work.
As I tried to redeem myself from my breakfast blunder, I couldn’t help but think: how did I suddenly become the one whom everyone wants to lose? Miss Highway has managed to rally the troops and Pastry has enlisted a “bro” from the office to support his feats. I, on the other hand, have somehow been lost in the competition. Even the snarky intern who sits adjacent to me announced, “God, I hope you lose.”
But why? I feel I have kept my composure without stooping to the lows my competitors have, maintaining a cordial, competitive-but-not-vindictive demeanor. After all of this, I feel like the underdog.
Whatever. If I end up losing this (don’t think I’m throwing in the towel, my dinner plans look promising, I won't lie) at least I can say I still have my dignity.
So Highway and Pastry: keep your carbs and calories; I’ll take the high road of the beltway.
Never has a competition caused so much drama and pain, destroyed so many friendships and mobilized a people toward a common goal as the free food-a-thon 2008. The interns have fallen prey to the sadistic social experiment concocted by and for the pleasure of our scheming superiors. Once a united group in which CP interns could feel safe and comfortable with whom they are is now plagued by factions, backstabbing and debauchery. Much like in the animal world.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the art of getting free food is ageist, especially in the evening. What else do overworked interns do but hit up the happy hours and throw back a few to, you know, “take in D.C.’s culture.” Yeah, that’s crap. I tried taking my not-yet-of-age charm to the DC Kastlestennis team post-match party at the Park after to work to enjoy an “open bar and free hors d'oeuvres,” but no amount of sweet talking could win over the bar owner whose liquor license was in jeopardy. Poor, hungry, naïve intern. But how do you expect me to get free dinner when all anyone does around here is drink?
I don’t get discouraged that easily because I’ve had to face a lot of adversity in my life and know how to persevere—I lost the 5th grade spelling bee, my mom thinks liking girls is a phase and M.I.A. retired.
On to plan B:
Apparently, the latest target of gentrification is a quaint little area of Chinatown where the new DuMont condos are being built. Today marked the unveiling of three new model homes in the complex, open for touring and potential bidding, but only to the wealthiest of the wealthy. I obviously have no intention of renting a new condo because, well, I live with my parents and nothing beats home-cooked Indian food. Still, my good friend Tanya and I decided to channel the L Word and act like we were truly interested in looking for a new home together and assured the perky coordinators we’d go on a tour. The reward for posing as pretentious, poised-and-ready gentrifiers who, “Never have to even touch the poor again?” The most deliciously swanky spread of cocktail hors d'oeuvres and an open bar that made any drink of your choice; I don't even know what it is, but maybe a Seven and Seven? Of course, Campus Progress doesn’t condone underage drinking, so even though they didn’t card me (I guess I make a damn convincing high-powered lesbian) I steered clear of that beer. The food, on the other hand, was by no means off-limits and I triumphantly snagged a sample off of every bow tie-clad waiter’s tray: beef tartar on radicchio leaf, lobster samosas, shrimp cocktail with a grey poupon sauce, mini biscuits with gorgonzola and sprig of parsley and a mini quiche with roasted red peppers and cheese.My mouth still salivates just thinking about it. Okay, not the meat appetizers—I picked around the meat a little bit—but regardless. Heaven on earth.
Don’t think my free dinner stopped there—there’s no way I can live off of food made for ants. Earlier today I subscribed to California Tortilla’s mailing list and received a coupon for a free taco (score) and took it back to Bethesda for my final free feast. To my initial excitement then disappointment, I noticed that July 15 happens to be “kids eat free day” for kids under 10. Again with ageist! No worries, I was able to talk the cashier into giving me a free kidsadilla from the kids’ menu for free too. I go to bed now with not a crumb of purchased food in my belly and a smile on my face.
If there is one thing I learned from the free food-a-thon today, it’s that no matter how organized you are and how many plans and back-up plans you have, the fate of free food has a mind of its own.
After a successful gourmet breakfast at a book launch in D.C., I felt pretty confident that my chances of winning this competition were favorable and I would have no problem eating to my heart’s content for lunchtime. I set off to the 2008 FTC Eco in the Market Workshop: Green Building & Textiles, certain that a conference from 9-5 would break for delicious vegetarian and/or vegan cuisine. After foolishly walking to the Union Station area from NW D.C. (a 40 minute walk) I arrived just in time for lunch! “So where’s the food?” I asked a woman with a name tag. She looked puzzled and explained that this was a lunch break, in which participants and speakers were free to grab something from a nearby café. WTF?! What kind of conference doesn’t have food? Maybe I’m just a spoiled Campus Progress intern who is so accustomed to all of the free food that filters in and out of the office and CP events, but come on. Brushing that setback off, I set off to my back up plan: Heritage. There was some event about Ireland stopping the Lisbon Treaty or something or the other, but all I cared about was the “light lunch” to be served! I had even signed in as “Santo Gold” under the RSVP. To my further dismay, the presentation was over and all the food had been cleared (I asked the security guard).
Discouraged and out of ideas, I rode the metro back to Metro Center with my fellow intern, Ashley. Suddenly, it hit me: what if I sang at a restaurant and got free food? Wait a minute, that just might work! So long story short, I went in to Potbelly’s Sandwich Works and told the manager I had a “bet” with my boss and could I sing a song for some free food? The manager, Erica, and awesome employee Matt enthusiastically obliged and hooked me up to the microphone. I sang "At Last" by Etta James and "Love Song" by Sara Bareilles and was rewarded with a warm, gooey, cheesy veggie-on-wheat, light mayo, no mushrooms. Free water too! On top of that, they offered me a job to sing there every Friday! See "At Last" for yourself:
As I rode the bus to metro station this morning, I had a serious rumble in the pit of my stomach. Perhaps it was the 5 ravioli the new rip-off restaurant in Bethesda served me for $18 the night before, or maybe it was the 3 miles I had run this morning with no replenishment as it would not have been “free.” Probably. But metaphorically, the source of that rumble is the hunger deep in my soul for as much free food as I can possibly swindle. No, I’m not going to steal—it’s more of a Robin Hood kind of thing; you know, “Steal from the rich, give to the poor.” I have no qualms about taking ridiculous amounts of gourmet food prepared by chefs from the cordon bleu merely for the bellies of greedy corporate suits and wined-and-dined lobbyists and policy makers and redirecting it to my starved intern well-being.
After making my usual mecca to APEX college night last night, I realized that the gay scene in DC—or anywhere for that matter—is overwhelmingly male-dominated. Good luck finding a female at your local gay haunt, for if you are fortunate to do so, she’s probably straight and accompanied by one of the thousand cologne-doused gay males poised and ready to take their shirts off at any second. Don’t get me wrong, I have love for everyone and am no gay-man-hater by any means; we should all hold hands with one another and make a colorful rainbow bursting with hearts, stars and horseshoes. Still, the one-sided gay scene will surely frustrate the average single queer lady. Lucky for Social Capital’s loyal readers, I’ve compiled a special list of hot spots the queer ladies of DC might enjoy.
Phase 1: Founded in the 70’s, Phase 1 is the oldest lesbian bar in the country. Weeknights are pretty chill with good food & drink specials and the occasional surprise jello wrestling. Thursday nights are karaoke nights and the bar’s dance floor is packed on Friday and Saturday nights. 525 8th St. SE, Washington, DC 20003. 21+ Check it out!
Be:Bar XX: Every Wednesday night is ladies night at the popular Be:Bar. Featuring DC King and DC Gurly Shows, Alterna-Queer Dance party and drink specials all night. 1318 9th Street NW DC 20001. The closest metro stop is Mt. Vernon Sq/7th St. Convention Center on the Yellow or Green Line.
Fab Lounge: “Ladies First Wednesdays” start at 9pm featuring house DJs, dancing and drink specials. “Fab Fridays: A Different Kind of Ladie’s Night” has a hilariously cheesy title and equally awful music on its website, but looks promising: no cover, DJs and dancing. “Girls Taking over Saturdays” is another ladies night at Fab. 2022 Florida Avenue, NW, on the corner of Florida and Connecticut
DC Eagle: The second to last or last Wednesday of each month is “Dyke Night” at DC’s leather bar, creating a unique and interesting atmosphere.
If anyone makes it out to any of the above, please share your thoughts!
P.S. This was on be:bar’s website: EVERY FRIDAY 18 TO CUM. 21 TO SWALLOW.
While many of you interns feel homeless, think you’re starving and below poverty lines, you’re wrong. While you whine about the meager stipend you receive every week and struggle to buy that expensive fifth of vodka before you go to some hipster bar , people who actually don’t have homes and live well below poverty lines from all over the world are gathering all weekend for the Homeless USA Cup in D.C.! So stop your moaning. Go to this badass FREE event at Washington Kastles Stadium, 11th and H Street. Today, tomorrow (28th) and Sunday (29th) are the USA trials for the 2008 Homeless World Cup in Melbourne Australia.
What’s unique about this tournament is consists completely of street soccer on a street-like “field,” four v. four and men’s, women’s and mixed teams. Each player on the team receives special kits from Nike, which kinda sucks, but I mean what can you do? The winners of the world cup are awarded a huge cash prize, so the stakes are high.
On top of the intense tournament, there are special poetry slams, a skills session with DC United and tons more. PLUS, don’t miss a special screening of the documentary “Kickin’ It” at the E Street Cinema, 555 11th St. NW, Washington, DC about the 2006 Homeless World Cup!
What’s unique about this tournament is consists completely of street soccer on a street-like “field,” four v. four and men’s, women’s and mixed teams. Each player on the team receives special kits from Nike, which kinda sucks, but I mean what can you do? The winners of the world cup are awarded a huge cash prize, so the stakes are high.
On top of the intense tournament, there are special poetry slams, a skills session with DC United and tons more. PLUS, don’t miss a special screening of the documentary “Kickin’ It” at the E Street Cinema, 555 11th St. NW, Washington, DC about the 2006 Homeless World Cup!
Calling all interns and young professionals: go get a cup of FREE iced coffee TODAY from 2pm till close at Au Bon Pain in the Warner Building, 1299 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington, DC 20004! HURRY!!
For an overworked, under-21 intern who still lives with her parents in Maryland, it’s hard to do anything after except collapse on the couch in a coma or the occasional house party (so high school). While the other interns head out to various happy hours in D.C. before retiring to their nearby dorms, I have to take a thirty-minute metro ride to Maryland and won’t likely return to D.C. until the next morning for work.
But there is one thing that will wake me from my post internship-induced slumber—gay clubs. My favorite is APEX, for every Thursday is college night, meaning FREE with your college ID. There’s nothing I love more than heading over to Dupont Circle and dancing the night away to top 40 on speed among shirtless sweaty boys and the possible drag queen. The prospect of this Thursday night of mayhem roused me from my sleep yesterday and motivated me to mobilize the troops and make the trip out (no pun intended). APEX was a blast and by the end of the night, I had been hit on by a drag queen, a straight boy and had no voice left to sing along to “Disturbia” (amazing). Plus café Soho is right next to APEX and is still open when the club closes at 2:00am to satisfy your drunken munchies. Thursday night=success (for once).
Don’t live close to Dupont Circle? Have no fear, D.C. is full of amazing other gay clubs and bars you should definitely check out!
This is D.C.’s newest gay club and is very over the top. It’s insanely swanky with multiple floors, video rooms and nearly naked men dancing on poles. Admission ends at 2:30am and closes at 4:00am.
My sincerest apologies to progressives all over the nation, but I happen to love watching Tila Tequila. Yes, I know it's chock-full of gender stereotypes (cue headbutting alpha males, veins popping out), sexual stereotypes (shockingly, bisexuals are not on the never-ending search to "choose" between genders) and Asian stereotypes (My name is Tila and I'm ready to please your every desire), but I can't help it. You can ridicule me for my support for such a degrading show--and because it's the trashiest of trash TV--but every Tuesday night at 10, I'll surely tune in.
So last night, Ms. Tequila took her three remaining contestants who, surprise surprise, were two girls and a boy, on a bizarre Cancun vacation where they "erotically" inflated condoms with their rears and had contrived one-on-one dates. At the end of the debacle, Tila made her decision and...she eliminated Brittany: the fun, adorable brunette that has warmed the hearts of viewers and perverts alike. Instead, she kept the TOOL BAG of a human being "Bo" who got his ass kicked earlier on, and the overly made-up "Kristy." I was pissed.
Tila has the worst judgment ever when it comes to dating. I hate those final two contestants and it would be painful to watch the season finale next week. But am I gonna watch it? Yep. And am I gonna blog about it? Duh.
On Monday, October 29th, Campus Progress favorite Lupe Fiasco visited the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor Diag to discuss his socially-conscious music and upcoming album "The Cool."
Fiasco described the meaning of this title as a necessity to make "square" things appear "cool," such as anti-violence and gay rights in order for young people to join in and support these issues. This is because he is "thoroughly disgusted with hip-hop" for its excessive violence and misogyny. While hip-hop is the medium through which he expresses himself and makes a living, Fiasco still denounces its advocacy of violence and exploitation. However, rather than "dis 50" and other rappers, he simply "make[s] better music."
Furthermore, when asked who he supports for the '08 election, Fiasco responded, “Hilary Clinton,” as he feels a female president of the "most powerful nation in the world" will "empower women everywhere." Ironically though, Fiasco won't be voting in the election because "he [doesn't] do that, but hopes [Hilary] wins though."
While the Department of Public Safety doesn't permit mainstream musicians to perform on the Diag (who knows why), Fiasco spat a couple of rhymes and had a positive message to spread.
Starting October 27th in Irvine, CA, Sheryl Crow will be headlining the first-ever "Girl Frenzy" tour, also featuring Fiona Apple, Avril Lavigne, Colbie Caillat, Sara Bareilles and Antigone Rising. "Girl Frenzy" is the most cringe-worthy name ever invented.
Both Crow and Apple performed at Sarah McClachlan's baby, Lilith Fair, back in the late 90's, to "celebrate women in rock music," along with the likes of Tori Amos, Alanis Morissette and Natalie Merchant. Lilith Fair was actually my first concert (and my older sister's, which she is still not happy bought).
It seems as though Girl Frenzy is more geared toward the teeny-boppers and Myspace generation of American girls, what with Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" and similar pop songs. I applaud Sheryl Crow for trying to rekindle the energy and magic of Lilith Fair, trying to create a neo-feminist musical celebration, but Girl Frenzy? Really?
Bollywood recently released the new inspiringly patriotic box office hit, Chak de India, C'mon India. The film, starring Bollywood Big shot Shah Rukh Khan, revolves around the Indian National Women's Field Hockey team, comprised of women of varying classes, ethnicities and religions. The women must not only overcome their inner conflicts as a team, but oppression and ridicule from the men in their lives, as well as from the country as a whole. The movie is a fusion of Hardball, Lagaan and A League of Their Own, and as it opened just in time for India's 60th Independence (August 15th), portrays a different kind of underdog story for Bollywood.
With every new season of MTV’s The Real World I am hopeful to find a diverse cast—not just in ethnicity but in thinking as well—that is comprised of inspiring, thought-provoking individuals whose personal struggles and experiences on the show are relatable and influential. However, my overly optimistic view is always shattered when MTV introduces each new cast as predominantly white and often closed-minded, and its members’ experiences are mostly limited to those of drunken dancing, drunken hook-ups and drunken fights.
This past Wednesday, MTV launched its latest season of shameless debauchery, Real World Sydney, and its all-too-familiar casting of white, generally attractive collegiate individuals really shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The only shocker was the casting of Parisa, a New Yorker of Iranian descent and a practicing Muslim. An intelligent, down-to-earth woman, she is strangely out of place among her seemingly shallow and narrow-minded cast mates, many of whom instantly confess that she is a type of person whom they would “never be friends with in real life.” Parisa’s long-standing insecurity of feeling different and outcaste in America is rekindled in her new social setting and two of the four girls immediately mark her as an enemy.
During the season premiere on August 8th, one of the resident bimbos of the house, Trisha, whines exasperatedly about an encounter she had at the local McDonald’s. The cashier was not fluent in English and could not understand Trisha’s request for a free sample, and after more miscommunications, a disgusted Trisha took her business elsewhere. Back at the house, Trisha, who was in no way the least bit understanding, proceeded to patronize and insult the cashier by ridiculously imitating her Chinese accent to her cast mates, who responded with words of sympathy and concurrent laughter. Parisa, dejected by her roommate’s degrading display phoned her mother and cried about how “inconsiderate” and horrible her roommate was to this “immigrant” whom Trisha so mocked.
It was an upsetting scene to watch. Trisha imitated the cashier as if she were devoid of intelligence. Since when does speaking a foreign language equal stupidity? I can’t imagine living in a house with such an ignorant roommate that lacks compassion, consideration and sense.
Furthermore, to me the most outraging thing is the fact that there are no other cast members of color; it’s as if Jonathan Murray and the rest of Bunim/Murray Productions decided that one token minority is quite enough to fill their quota and cause drama in the house. It’s not like they could have taken a real cross-section of people that comprises a wide variety of ethnicities, socio-economic backgrounds and sexual orientations, or that they would, gasp, have more “minorities” than white people! The Real World’s idea of diversity is casting a white female who loves Britney and Cosmos while another white female prefers Christina and Margaritas.
In this day and age it’s really quite shameful and discouraging to see that a self-proclaimed progressive channel such as MTV wouldn’t clean up its act and represent America as it really is in the real world.
This past weekend, I attended the 2-day Virgin Festival in Baltimore, MD, and saved $200+ as I got in for free. The catch? I had to sort through piles and piles of—trash.
It actually wasn’t as bad as it sounds. I volunteered for Clean Vibes, an organization that strives to make concerts green, and was dubbed a “Green Angel” or “Garbage Goalie” as they so appropriately titled the job. At this year’s V-Fest, the Spitfire Agency took on the cumbersome task of making the venue as green as possible. Its goal was to produce almost no trash, facilitated by the fact that all plastic and paper consumer products (cups, plates, napkins, even straws) at the Festival were made from corn and sugarcane, respectively. As a Garbage Goalie, I worked for seven straight hours and directed tens of thousands of sweaty, smelly and wasteful concertgoers as into which color-coded container they could deposit their waste: green was compost (consumer products and food stuffs), blue was recycling (all items marked 1-6) and orange was landfill (water bottle caps, plastic bags, etc.). The Spitfire Agency required all of the on-site vendors to use the green products, and while some cheated and violated the rule with prohibited rum stirrers and the like, almost all of the vendors obeyed the rule, and the much of the waste was indeed compostable or recyclable.
Although I was forced to interact with numerous drunken male “VIP” members in the special Guest Lounge at which I was stationed, “dumpster dive” for items that were thrown into the wrong containers and almost died of heat exhaustion (it was 100 freaking degrees), the ambitious undertaking proved to be successful, as concertgoers got the hang of the special waste containers and produced a notably smaller fraction of waste than usual.
Other efforts to make the concert environmentally friendly included Metro Subway services in Baltimore, slow-flowing showers (it was hot, okay?), a contest that awarded those who retrieved the most recyclables from the filthy ground and a specially designated “Green Spot” on the venue, which provided information and green attractions.
Naturally, it was gratifying to see people making a conscious and visibly effective difference to combat the excessive nature of concert venues and practices, but honestly, to digress, the biggest pay-off was the concert itself.
On Day 1, a surprisingly sober Amy Winehouse rocked out with her impressive ensemble to catchy funk and soul numbers, Ben Harper inspired and moved the crowd and the Beastie Boys stole the show, with Mix Master Mike matching the Boys’ energy with samples of everything from M.I.A.’s “Galang” to DJ Unk’s “Walk it out.” Sadly, I had to leave before The Police because I literally could not stand up and had to drive an hour to get home.
Day 2 was my personal favorite, featuring Spoon, Regina Spektor, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Smashing Pumpkins and M.I.A. Regina Spektor was adorably infectious, accompanying herself on both piano and guitar, sans her band. Yeah Yeah Yeahs exceeded all my expectations, doling out a supercharged, unforgettable performance with Karen O, adorned in glitter and mesh, showering herself with beer and doing everything from making out with her mic, to slamming it numerous times on the stage. She even dedicated “Maps” to her “love” Regina Spektor. To save the best for last, M.I.A., one of three closing acts, performed in the Dance Tent which could not have been more perfect for her. Joined by hundreds of obsessive, dancing M.I.A. fans, I could not believe that I was mere feet away from M.I.A., even being able to feel the water she threw at the crowd. Her new tracks “Boyz” and “Bird Flu,” during which she pulled several audience members on stage to dance with her, were amazingly well-received and somehow everyone knew every lyric.
To wrap up one of the most memorable weekends of this summer, I’d like to quote my organic cotton concert T-shirt provided by Clean Vibes: Virgin Fest’s “G”-Spot: Have you found yours?
My name is Aditi and welcome to my nascent blog! I'm new to blogging, but I can say I've wasted countless hours reading and commenting on blogs, so it can't really be that different. I went to my first CP conference in June and loved what I experienced. I recently graduated from high school and after a summer of carefree teenage freedom, it's time to be a grown-up. Damn.
I'll be starting at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, hopefully majoring in Econ and minoring in music. I hope you like my upcoming posts!
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