Signs signs everywhere signs


I attempted to go to the VirginFest, but considering no chairs, no umbrellas, no water, no food... I turned around. I am not young anymore, and sitting on rain-sogged Citadel Hill sipping a $3 bottle of water, getting smacked in the face by some vacant cowboy hat wearing Abercrombie and Fitch clone who's never heard of Dinosaur Jr until that day wasn't what I'd call fun.

Canada Day Alderney Gate, now that was a special event. Thirsty for a beer you had to pay $3 cover, cover for what, the chance pay another $5 for a fucking beer? Jesus!

Then Joel P hits the stage and people on lawn chairs are instantly invisible, as the same self absorbed shits with cowboy hats and Aeropostale hoodies stood in front of those seated, oblivious to the fact that they are self centered fucks, screaming on GD blackberries about being at Alderney Landing, as in I am so tapped in, so sad to be you. Can't hear you, can't hear you.....

Intelligence continued. A herd of teenage moms were there with their infants, with a tonne of purple eyeshadow and asscrack pants and barely covering boobs tank tops sucking on ciggies, subjecting their kids to ear drum splitting decibels.

Same for the moron yuppies with kids in carry back packs and their two dogs, running around in circles, DOGS HAVE MORE SENSITIVE HEARING THAN HUMANS you stupid shits. Hiring a fucking babysitter/dogsitter, now that's a concept.


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