So as I logged into WordPress to write this review, I noticed there was a new post from the only person I follow on here, Jackie @ thebitchbible.com and she was talking about how ‘recaps’ are boring, and for half a second i thought, should i? But then I thought, “what the hell is the point in going if I don’t get to brag about it for a week afterwards?” So here we go:
My #VMA2014 weekend started on Saturday. my friend Brittney got us tickets to the Taco Bell (classy eh?) Artist’s to Watch Pre-VMA party. We pile 6 of us into a 5-seater car, pump up the old school 1D music (Ma-Ah-Ah-Gic), and try not to piss myself on the one hour drive in traffic to downtown LA.
At this point in the day, I had had a gallon of ice tea and a 32oz can of Redbull. I felt every bump we went over and was seriously considering pissing in a cup. We finally got off the freeway and I hopped out of the car the moment it stopped. I ran down the street to the nearest restaurant that wanted me to buy something just so I could piss in their bathroom. I promised I’d get something afterwards if they would just hand me the fucking key. But no, bitch wanted to sit on her damn cell phone and ignore the 23 year old girl doing a potty dance in a crop top right in front of her.
Enough about that though, this is about the VMA’s after all. Kind of. So once I relieved myself we stood in line for an hour waiting to get wrist banded and herded in. I love to people watch so line waiting can be a fun experience for me. May I just say that casting and ticket agencies really need to do a better job at giving a dress code? Everyone’s interpretation of “casual, hip & trendy” are SO different that I’m not sure if they ever get what it is they’re looking for. On one end you’ve got chicks in board shorts and baseball T’s which, even if you’re a lesbian, is NEVER cute, and on the other end you’ve got 16 year olds in floor length ball gowns with 8″ platforms. (Spice Girls much?). I think I hit the mark with a jean crop top and white skirt. There was one girl though, who made sure everyone was trying to hit her mark. You know how dresses and skirts have this cute little inverted V cut out in front of the vag area ( subliminal message), this chicks was cut out so you could see her vag. Personally, I think she should have been arrested for indecent exposure, but, maybe that’s my inner Sunday-school teacher coming out.
Once in the club, it was really nice. I’m not much of a dancer, I have no hips, no rhythm, and country girl genes. After a shot of Fireball and an Adios I was feeling like I at least wanted to try. They played typical, top 40, club type music while we waited for the first Artist to Watch to take the stage.
White Arrows comes on stage and like 20 girls started screaming. I looked at my friend like “wtf is there to scream about? None of them are cute.” I really have nothing to say about this performance other than the lead singer was really creepy, kept rolling his eyes into the back of his head (earning him the name ‘demon man” by most of the crowd) and he totes took some chicks into a back room afterwards. #TooUglyForGroupies The best part was when they finished and chicks came out of the sides to give burritos to the crowd. Straight up – burritos were flying everywhere, and for me being short I actually got quite a few.
Next up was another group I had never heard of called Bleachers. The guy was dressed a bit strange, actually, they all were. Lead singer had on some shorts with his boxers hanging out below the cuffs, one of the drummers had a crew neck sweater with the sleeves cut off, and another guy was trying to dress like Harry Styles with his fedora and floral print top. #Failed I didn’t know any of their music, but, the guy was totally fun getting the crowd involved and jumping down into the audience. My friend was convinced he was a Jew and he confirmed this by saying he was from New Jersey.
Lastly there was the act everyone had been waiting for – Charli XCX. I was expecting an old bald black guy (seriously, I’m clueless to the world outside my fandom) so I was surprised to see a 17 year old girl in a nightie and bathrobe. She was decent, I recognized a few songs. I found it super creepy that she was letting guys in the front row reach up and rub her legs, but hey, when you have mediocre talent, I guess that’s how you get places in life.
Anyway, we were ready to get out of there and head to the Four Seasons to do some 5SoS stalking. What does it say about my life when I would rather wait outside a hotel in the dead of the night over dancing at a club? #Pathetic Obviously it was pointless as we didn’t see anyone other than some creepy ass cab drivers trying to decide if I was a prostitute and some Twitter personality known as Stalker Sarah. (Apparently I was supposed to know who this is?)
At 1:30am, we finally decided it was time to head back to Cerritos. Half of us had tickets for the VMAs the next morning and needed to be up early. The alcohol I drank wasn’t able to overpower the amount of caffeine I had had earlier in the day and I was still wound up and hyper. Which was for the best because at 2:30am, one mile from our exit off of the 605 freeway, we hit something and popped a tire.
Now I’ve always wondered what sort of disaster would come of a blown tire on the freeway, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had imagined. We were able to navigate our way to the shoulder and, once everyone was assured that we were still alive, we laughed. It’s now technically Sunday morning, no place is open, we’re all dressed like hookers, and no one has their AAA card.
By 3:30am we’ve got a tow truck on the way, Brittney’s fiance has come to trade us cars so some of us can get home before the police get there and see we have more people than seat belts, and him and Britt are staying to wait for help to come. So I get back to Britt’s place with her sister and decide that I’m just gonna sleep there, not even trying to drive back to Ontario at that point.
4:30am hits. I’m finally make-up free, in pajamas, curled under blankets, and a wide-a-frigging-wake! Sarah and I are up talking about Michael Clifford fanfics, cause I mean, whats better than that (except for my Liam one of course) when she get’s a text. Apparently some rapper got stabbed at Chris Browns pre-party, and it was at that point, that i decided it was time to sleep.