Sometimes I read this blog a few days after a post and I become disgusted. It’s not the content that I have a problem with, it’s the pathetic grammar and sentence structure. I then think to myself, ‘man imagine how dangerous I would be if I had an editor.’
I had a similar thought on the dance floor last night, imagine how much I could crush if I didn’t sweat more than any person on Earth.
Last week at Coachella it was fine because literally everyone is gross and dirty, but not last night at The Aloha Bar. I was the only one.
I went home for 2 separate wardrobe changes. Literally left the bar, walked into my hostel, past 3 sleeping Argentines, rifled through my bag to find an off white t shirt (it’s hard to tell when an off white shirt is wet unless you touch it) went back to the bar and tried to recreate the magic that Justin Bieber’s ‘What Do U Mean’ gave me.
But that’s not really important. Day 2 was full of fun surprises and poor decision making by me: bad decisions with girls for sure and horrendous decisions in fashion. I wore shorts and flip flops on a 5 mile walk around Christiania in 40 degree weather. ‘Why’ you ask...because I am an idiot and an American and my privilege runs amok. I needed all the Danish people to know that I am a preppy bro who rocks Rainbows and a popped collar.
I don’t think anyone was impressed.
I woke up today at about 2pm local time because I was dancing on tables at an Irish pub until 5am. My hands are shaking, my body is starting to fail me.
My God, how is it only day 3? Fortunately there is a Amsterdam Wok 2 Wok clone down the street and I think it might be able to bring me to life. Wish me luck friends.
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