I spent the last week in Austin for SXSW. It rained, it hailed, there was a tornado watch and that was all on the first day. It got better and of course free tall cans of Lone Star on every corner certainly helped take my mind off the layer of mud and dust that is now caked on my previously brand new Chucks.
I’m convinced that there is an “unofficial” hair conference going on during SXSW. In the last week I’ve seen the worst displays of creative hair styling ever, ever, ever. Here are a sampling of the best of the worst.
way to go bro…i get it, your hair matches your shirt. damn that’s fucking awesome. im so glad you did that. did you make the shirt to match the ‘do or did you see it in a store one day, like was it fate dude? at least his sweatshirt lends some appropriate commentary.
i saw this dude far away and then had to go in for a closer look so that i could see what the fuck is going on back there. i was left amazed, confused, offended and full of questions. including but not limited to,
1. Um, why?
2. What kind of friends do you have?
3. Seriously, what kind of friends do you have? Who did this to you willingly?
4. Was someone paid for this handiwork?
5. Is there a larger statement or is it just like a conversation piece you dreamed up while lost in a k-hole tripping the light fantastic?
6. This is why I hate fixed gear bike entusiasts. I bet you this FF* is one of them. Or posing as one.
7. Fuck it. Who cares? It’s fucking wack.
* FF = fat fuck — can also be used as a verb, “im at home FF’n on the couch”
In addition to terrible hair there was LOADs of terrible fashion including but not limited to:
I saw Kool Keith perform in a pair of boots just like these at the Maritime Hall (RIP) in 1999, but his were red. He was rocking them with longish jean shorts and a Black Elvis Wig. I kept tripping as he strutted across the stage. I couldn’t figure out if I thought he looked sorta gay or sorta like a 6 year old playing dress up. I literally went back and forth all night, “man, that’s hella gay” to “shit, this fool just needs a pair of plastic silver pistols and one of them cowboy hats with the blue trim, the braided cotton strap and the plastic star on the front.” Then all of the sudden I realized it didn’t matter because it was Kool Kieth wearing the boots. Kool Keith raps about livin’ astro in monkey green ragtop sevilles and strong arms venue box offices just to mix things up. If he wants to rap in cowboy boots and jean shorts, who the fuck am I to tell him not to? Fortunately this bitch is NOT Kool Keith so I won’t be out of line when I say, that these boots are wack and should not be worn ever. The 1970s mom nylons are not a good look either. I saw about 335670 pairs of fucking boots this past week in Austin. It’s like they were passing them out at the registration booth or something. Indie bitches love them some boots.
Player of the Week:
I thought shit like this only happened in San Jose during the Cinco De Mayo parties. Latino gangsters fucking love animal accessories like baby pitbulls, cockatoos, snakes both big and small, iguanas – you name it, basically anything that can be deemed exotic and might possibly help in the aid of scoring ” firme hynas” is fair game. I was pleased to see that in Texas, the exotic animal game was alive and well. This dude took it to the next level by rocking matching chains with his snake. I guess everything really is bigger in Texas.
Dude rolled around all night at the UGK showcase with this big as boa on his neck just looking chill, drinking beers like it was nothing. When someone would roll on him to see what was up wiht the big ass snake, he responded like “What? Oh, this? Yeah. It’s my snake.” At one point he finally started getting hit up for pictures so you know of course I had to go over there and capture the moment. The best part is dude started to get an attitude like he was a rock star or some shit. He was acting all hella distant and like he didn’t understand why fools were tripping on him and wanting pics. I sorta wanted to be like “Um excuse me playa, but if you ain’t feelin’ the attention you probably should left that 200lb snake at home. Or maybe not put a chain on his ass” Mos def the highlight of my trip only second to seeing an Austin bike cop eat a face full of asphault out front of Emo’s as he attempted to stare down the gaggle of dirty butt rock dudes standing outside the Big Business showcase.
A Second Player of the Week nod goes to the Texas Board of Liquor & Whores (or whatever it’s called) for legalizing and supporting the concept of the “set-up” bar. Ever walk into a bar order a few drinks and then get charged something retarded like $18? You pony up and then walk away mumbling, “What the fuck? I could have bought a bottle for that price” Yeah me too. Well in Texas, they’ve found a solution — they let you bring your own booze. Yes. I am serious. You just walk right in put your hooch on the bar and then order a “set-up” which is basically a styrofoam cup with ice and the mixer of your choice. I’s never more than about $2. You pour your own shit as stiff as you like and then get down to business. They don’t cut you off unless you are getting really out of pocket but that’s pretty hard to do since you can always count on some local dude to get kicked out for pissing in the corner while singing “Yellow Rose of Texas” long before you decide to download E-40 “Sidewayz” from the internet jukebox just to see what happens. I didn’t think it would get much better than the “Drive-Thru” liquor store but now I know it does. Get it together Cali!