So I stopped by the Intonation Music Festival this weekend and had a really nice time. Heard some great music, did some quality people watching and managed not to become too upset upon realizing that I had about five to eight years on everyone in the crowd.

The only thing I really missed was the guy who wore a t-shirt that read "It Ain't Going To Suck Itself," a phrase that will continue to bring me an amazing combination of disgust and enjoyment for weeks to come. My friend, Julene, was the lucky girl to witness this and I can't begin to tell you how jealous I truly am.

[Confidential to Rob R-H: I didn't meet Andrew Bird. I had to leave. Next time I get the chance I will ask if I can pinch his butt because that really was awesome advice.]

Not much has really changed in the years it's been since I took part in that whole scene, the one where my summer schedule revolved around music festivals such as Intonation. I mean, I'm guessing that as long as there are outdoor music festivals in the summertime you are going to find every woman who keeps the patchouli manufacturers in business.

I swear to God that shit is rancid. Ladies, take heed: it doesn't make you alternative and it doesn't make you smell good. It makes you smell like you live in a head shop and don't bathe. Stop it now.

Mostly it was just cool to realize that I've finally gotten to the point in my life where I've ceased caring whether or not I fit in. In my khakis and black tanktop, I felt like The Man personified in a sea of ironic t-shirts, flowy peasant skirts and incredibly large sunglases.

I really did wish I was smoking still, though. I didn't, of course, but I still wished.

Posted by Erin at 10:15 PM | filed under: Chicago

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