The unwashed showed up en masse on Sunday for the Livestock BBQ. Even I was there!
There’s something to be said — too bad so many people have already said it — about how living in a city forces you to be more stylish than the ‘burbs.
Even so, at an event like Sunday’s, I tend to feel distinctly out of place. I haven’t mastered the icy gaze, and I don’t think I’m likely to anytime soon, so even if my clothes don’t quite mark me as a hick from the sticks, my camera and my nervous giggle do.
As I mature, though, I care less and less about fitting in. Maybe people who are constantly in search of a bigger and better party really are having a great time, but it all seems so desperate and sad to me. Sit back! Enjoy! Do you really need 1,000 photos of you hitting the beer bong to prove that you had fun last night?
