Burning Man Colon Suck It Exclamation Point

I do not have time to be blogging right now. I have eight bazillion things to read, students to nurture and/or crush, and a life outside of school that is looking increasingly illusory/flimsy. Do you know what else I do not have time for right now? Do you?

Here's a hint: I do not have time to be driving in circles for 35 minutes looking for parking at ten o'clock on a Sunday freakin' night because some stupid hippies who wanted to go out in the desert to dress like sluts and get baked couldn't get enough of whatever it is they did during that week they spent in the desert the first time and decided that what really should happen is a big stupid party in my neighborhood to commemorate/relive whatever retarded memories they failed to make the first time because they were too baked from either the sun or the drugs or some combination thereof. For those inclined to categorize, I have created the following lists to help firm up the distinctions driving my complaint:

I have no problem with the following activities
Dressing like a slut
Drugs (technically a thing, not an activity)
Being a hippie (you might mistake me for one these days)
Going into the desert to do idiotic things
Having parties to relive stupid things you've done in the past

I do have a problem with the following activities
Bad parking jobs
Inconveniencing me
Drugs
Being a hippie
Having parties, etc.
Sluts

In retrospect, this evening's "festivities" probably explain the individual I saw at Trader Joe's this afternoon looking like this:

If I had known at the time that this was the advance guard of a whole host of equally-deficient individuals I would have stopped to enjoy the mental image of beating this person with a stick, rather than laughing in a nervous way and moving on.

On further reflection, I'm willing to concede that Burning Man might not be stupid and offensive. Offensive, at any rate, seems to be a stretch. Case in point:



Still, I can't help but feel that some of this stuff shouldn't and won't fly back in what I like to call 'civilization.'


Aardvark car anyone? Word.

To the rest of you who weren't driving aardvark cars or dressed up like cyborgs, who rather descended on my home like a plague of sluttily-dressed locusts, I have only one thing to say to you:

Fornicators!