Bluesfest!

Dear Future Leslee;

Bluesfest! I went on Friday and saw the Black Keys and even though I almost died it was great. I arrived at about six and the weather was hot and miserable and I kept thinking ‘Why in the name of all that is good did I wear pants?’ which is the kind of thing I think all the damn time. So, it was blisteringly hot for a bit, and then it was just nice for a bit, and then while we were standing and waiting for the Black Keys it started pouring rain and the temperature dropped by about 15 degrees and a terrible wind whipped us from all directions.

As an aside, I love Bluesfest, and I’ve been going since I was quite literally eight years old. I will say though, when I was younger the old people were less ridiculous and the crowd overall was considerably less good-looking. When did all the hottest people in Ottawa start showing up to Bluesfest? And when did all the old people start doing such large quantities of drugs?

Welcome to my childhood. Sorry about the pot smoke.

Anyway, the Black Keys did perform, albeit an hour late, and they were fabulous. I’m trying to think of something funny or sarcastic to say but they were just really good and actually kind of bluesy and I totally enjoyed the whole damn thing. Except maybe the part where the Gorg’s friend kept suggesting I make out with the other girl under the umbrella, you know, to keep warm. Obviously.

Boys, I hate to break it to you, but no girl has ever fallen for that, ever. If we start making out “for warmth” it’s not because you’ve convinced us or we’re stupid but because of one of two things: either we are using our sexuality to manipulate you, or we just happen to want to make out. And under the circumstances, I would say those are both totally legitimate responses.

And no, I am not going to post a picture of two girls making out with a clever caption underneath. It’s only recently that “sleeping babe black cock” stopped showing up under that “things people search for that send them to your blog” widget and I’m perfectly happy to leave it that way.

Anyhoo, I also saw an Australian reggae-ish band called Blue Dog Brown who were also very good, especially the keyboardist, who was good-looking enough to cause me to turn to the Woman and exclaim “Forty dollars well spent!”. Later on I was discussing this with my Mom (because I’m boring) and she mentioned that she’s always had a weakness for musicians, which just goes to show that poor judgment is genetic.

In other news, I’ve basically given up going to the gym in favour of doing pretty much anything else. I attended five Fringe shows last month, went swing dancing, went to Toronto, and recently went on a fantastic bike ride, and I guess all that living is way more interesting that running in place for half an hour. I still feel guilty, though, which is stupid: there is nothing morally superior about the person who runs in place for thirty minutes three times a week compared to the person who doesn’t. Health is not a measure of personal goodness, nor is our dedication to getting sweaty on expensive machines in little coordinated outfits. Gym memberships do not a good person make, although considering the extent to which we fetishize health, it’s not surprising that we treat it that way.

All the spandex in the world doesn't change the fact that she's a racist

I’m not saying ‘don’t be healthy’. All I’m saying is that it’s stupid of me to get mad at myself because I spent more time last month having crazy adventures than I did stair-mastering. And if I’m not allowed to call myself stupid, then who is?

Fuck you, elliptical machine.

I guess I’ll just continue to do some physical activity some of the time and take the stairs once in a while and not eat seven cheeseburgers everyday and more or less rely on my genetic lottery winnings to keep me from losing my ability to tie my shoelaces. I wish I was more dedicated, and I have the utmost respect for people who are Serious About Their Health but I am waaaayyy too busy getting hit on in cougar bars and plotting to steal my friend’s adorable children to go to the gym everyday.

Otherwise, I continue to muddle through with my life, such as it is. I’m moving back in with my mamasita in September, and my Sopie and I will continue to be friends, but simply from afar. I have applied for no less than 38 positions at the hospital since March, and I’ve finally gotten a single callback. Wish me luck!

I still go on twitter sometimes, and if you haven’t already you should check out The Wine Jury at http://winejury.blogspot.com/ to watch my friends and I drink wine and just generally make fools of ourselves.

Have a wonderful day 🙂

Yours,

Past Leslee.

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About leslei

Listen, I like to use the eff word. If that is going to be a problem you should probably just turn this car around RIGHT NOW.
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2 Responses to Bluesfest!

  1. El Marco says:

    You realise that by including the words “sleeping babe black cock” in this post will almost immediately put that search parameter back in the list of “things people search for that send them to your blog”.
    Just sayin’.

  2. leslei says:

    Fuck, is that how the internet works? I’m terrible at this. 😦

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