Rarely while I am writing a story for CC do I find myself changing my mind about the subject halfway through. However, as I sit here with my can of sugar free Red Bull trying to muster up some energy for whatever kind of weird crowd will be at the bars during the summer on Thirsty Thursday, I had a sudden change of heart.

I’ve been spending a lot of time at music festivals this summer, like waaay more than anyone who isn’t obsessed with Jerry Garcia and The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test should, so I have run into a few very interesting characters, to say the least.

Now, I’m not saying that I’m not a whole fan of the hippie lifestyle. I’m extremely liberal and I love me some tye dye & hemp necklaces & moonshine just as much as the next chick. I just prefer to have clean underwear and hair that smells more like strawberries than Mary Jane. But the one thing I have never found appealing are the dreadlocked, banjo-playing, I-ate-way-too-many-mushrooms-once kind of crazies you run into at festivals – who basically live and breathe the whole scene.

I have a best friend; however, who is notorious for falling in lurrrve with every boy who writes her a sonnet and accompanies on his harmonica or enchants her with stories of touring with The String Cheese Incident. She’s a sucker, that’s for sure. I always wondered: How is it humanly possible that my friend who is gorgeous, intelligent & about to graduate with a B.A. going to seriously consider dating someone who is jobless, degree-less and (presumably) showerless? Read More »