It’s the other most wonderful time of the year, so if you’re not celebrating the… certain holiday that today happens to be for reasons of disapproval, feel free to skip to the next paragraph. To get the full range of the holiday experience, start off with a compilation of Abbi and Ilana’s “weed genius” moments from Broad City, and follow it with some nightmarish moments people have had under the influence. Relive your first experiment with these tales about some “first times” that may have been a little too intense. Pair all of this with bacon-fried Oreos.
If you don’t read fashion blogs, allow me to remind you that Coachella started today. Perhaps you are there right now, scrolling through a feed on your phone while you wait for Alt-J to play the one song you know (spoiler: it’ll be last), or comparing Amaro vs. Rise Instagram filters on the first of many #chellaselfies this weekend.
Unfortunately, you’ll have to make it through the festivities sans selfie stick, as Coachella banned them this year. Wow, a music festival that wants to make sure the folks there for the music don’t have obstructed views. In light of Coachella’s lameness, here’s how you might be able to survive the weekend without a selfie stick.
Anyone with an artistically gifted friend may find themselves experiencing a familiar twinge of jealousy any time they watch them passionately pour themselves into their chosen medium, but this Kickstarter is going to change that: merely donate five dollars and you’ll become the subject of an art show, made with your data. Of course, one of the main rules of making art is that good artists steal and build on the works of others: this artist might have adhered to that principle a little too literally (as a former counterfeiter), but the Sonnet Project — whose goal is to create a short film for each of Shakespeare’s sonnets, each filmed in a different NYC location — is a perfect and legal example of this rule.
As if festival season weren’t bad enough for adults already, the “who the fuck is X?” social media trend — and the press’ subsequent obsession with pointing out the generational gap or lack of cultural awareness that sits at the heart of it — needs to die a slow, horrendous death until nary a “Let Me Google That For You” joke is left.