Sunday. Day 3.
I had to wake up early to get to Grant Park in time for back-to-back phone and on-site interviews with Laura Warshauer (rescheduled from yesterday’s rain) and Hey Rosetta!. Despite Scarlett’s clear directions to the bus stop from her house, I wasn’t able to find it and ended up having to take a cab (in my mind, only having to buy one meal the entire weekend justified my excessive cab use). I arrived at the media area, chatted with the charismatic, thoughtful, and humble Laura Warshauer, and then sat down with Tim Baker and Romesh Thavanathan of Hey Rosetta! for a quick interview. When my time was up, I grabbed a muffin from Magnolia Bakery for breakfast and stashed some granola bars in my backpack for snacks later, and finished the last bit of my interview prep for the rest of the day.
Here’s an oldie-but-goodie from issue 27.4, written by our dearly beloved and recently graduated Sir Isaac Newton:
Getting a Job in Finance: Easier than Getting Laid
The scene: A bar. But not just any shitty dive bar. This is a classy affair. Real high-end. Way downtown; 200 West Street. But unless you’re suited up, looking sharp as shit, and making it rain is part of your daily to-do list, there’s no way you’re getting in.
And there she is. Wearing a tight black dress that hugs her perfect ass with legs that go all the way down to the floor. Pure sex.
You walk over to her, motion for the barkeeper to bring over two drinks and ask, “What’s your name baby?”
She leans in close and whispers softly in your ear, “Goldman Sachs.”
Despite the fact that it’s a satirical publication, I’m finding The Federalist’s new student tips to be both humorous and incredibly helpful. Thanks, Fed!
Saturday. Day 2.
Since my morning interview with LP was cancelled to conserve her voice, I got to sleep in an extra hour and go with Scarlett directly to the Rolling Stone Rock Room in Studio Paris around noon to watch the “Women Who Rock” contest finalists, Rita Ora and Karmin, perform. When we arrived at Studio Paris, there were two lines out the door, both reaching the end of their respective blocks. Unsure of what to do, I walked up to the bouncer standing directly in front of the door, in between the two lines of people and told him I was press and on the list. He asked for our IDs, made a two second eye contact with me to verify that I am indeed only 20, and then nodded us in. Nothing makes you feel more entitled than cutting in front of giant lines.
Lollapalooza. Last Thursday, it was just some music festival in Chicago with a really awesome lineup. But after this weekend, Lollapalooza means so much more: long, hectic days, hot sun, insane rain, exclusive lounges and after shows, blisters, free stuff, incredible live music, masses of people, chatting with musicians, and memorable adventures.