Sometimes, throughout the course of our lives, we do things and, though we enjoy them, we swear that we will never do them again. That time you tried the dog biscuit when you were four years-old. The threesome in college. Bungie Jumping after a few too many beers during Senior Week.

After this past weekend, Austin City Limits festival, and really - all outdoor music festivals, can be added to my list.

Chris and I headed down to Austin on Friday morning for three days of music, sun, beer, lots of incredible mexican food, stilfling Texas heat, and quality time with long distance friends. For three days, Zilker Park in Austin was taken over by indie rock kids and hippies who fought lines, crowds, and heat exhaustion all in the name of music. Here is an extremely exciting recap in list form:

I saw:
-the killers
-modest mouse (x2)
-I love you but I've chosen darkness
-explosions in the sky
-the pixies (!!)
-the roots
-elvis costello
-centro-matic
-spoon

I learned:
-modest mouse fans are the most atrocious people I've ever come into contact with.
-"I just got my face rocked off" is not appropriate to say in public, under any circumstance.
-the Texas sun does not fuck around. That shit is hot.
-lifting people up and guessing their weight is a surprisingly entertaining party trick.
-if you are the one doing the lifting, you should probably go ahead and stop drinking.
-lesbians love modest mouse. lesbians also enjoy dirty dancing to modest mouse while invading my personal space.
-Red Sox Nation is everywhere. I saw more Sox hats this weekend than I've ever seen before.
-there is not a soul on the roads in Austin at 5am on a Saturday.
-vegetarian chorizo is a-ma-zing.
-when the sox lose two of three to the MFY, it's a good idea to be in the middle of a field with no TV in sight.
-heavy metal pizza? a genius entrepreneurial idea.

And finally, when cramming 75,000 people into one place at one time, it's probably a good idea to open up a second exit. You know, unless you have fond memories of Altamont.


And lastly, an open letter to the drunk girls standing behind me at the modest mouse show at Stubbs:

Hey, ladies. Yes, you. I can understand singing the words along with Isaac during the show. Really, I can. But can you please make sure that next time you actually know the words you are singing? It's quite distracting to have a completely different concert going on over my right shoulder. While we're at it, "singing" is actually different from "shrieking." Look into that. And also, in the future, it will be sufficient to just sing the words and let the guitars and drums speak for themselves. I can hear them fine, thanks, and you shouldn't feel that you have to dum-dum-dum along with them.

Thanks, and I look forward to never running into you again.
meredith