"When you get a minute, can you take these tab... divider... things? And put the sticker tab things on them? I made stickers... enough of them-- wait, what's seven times twenty-five? Just slap 'em on there."
In my defense, not ten hours before issuing said instructions I was in a field in Chicago covered in sweat and balls-out rocking to Pearl Jam. Because being twenty-five means being in that wonderful liminal stage when one stills goes to things like Lollapalooza, yet one has responsibilities awaiting her at home and is unable to take a badly, badly needed vacation day to recover from acting like a teenager when she is most clearly no longer such.
It also means that I didn't know whether to be flattered or deeply creeped out at the Muse set when a high school senior tried to pick me up with the line "I have a two-door Honda Civic."
More Lolla coming once I get some sleep. Just you wait until Jen and I upload the photos and you can check out my white girl dance moves.
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