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Published: July 19th 2011
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I tried to write a coherent blog about Mudfest, the two weekend party that celebrates getting blasted in your bathing suit and smearing mud on yourself, but I soon found that the only way to describe my days at Mudfest was to let my inebriated memories take you away...
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I picked my poison. Vodka. Mixed with pomegranate juice in a goblet. Mary and I clinked our glasses and called ourselves squires. "Oh m'lady are you ready for the hunt? Oooh, I just LOVE fox hunts." We are so clever. We drink more...and we become even more clever.
Jazz has a gun! She is hidden behind a wooden post. Theresa doesn't see her, but I do. I get caught in the crossfire. A bit annoyed to be wet. Do they think this weekend is fun and games??
Taxis are here!! I forgot about Mudfest. Rina, Theresa, Mary, Margo, Eric, and I smash into one. We are giggling uncontrollably. Rina keeps trying to tell us about salve and why it's good for dry areas. She decides this is very important. Eric seems scared. The dad jokes come out. Consider staying in this taxi for the rest of the day.
Arrive at Mudfest. There are mirrors with basins full of mud. This seems far too classy to me. Where are the mud pits full of war? Someone puts mud on me...now I feel like one of the tribe.
Theresa and I lead the way to the water's edge. I throw my belongings on the beach and jump in. Immediately I meet a Swedish boy from Lund. I keep yelling about kladdkakka and why Uppsala is far better than Lund. He says he has schnapps but it is a lie. I no longer want to speak to the Swedish boy.
I'm swimming around and running around. I tackle people into water and steal booze. My super soaker is broken. My shirt is stolen. I have a pouch of alcohol around my neck that I incorrectly guess someone bought for me. The world is a spinning sun and beach.
We find more friends and run around in the surf, yelling like banshees and whispering like gossips. I steal sunglasses. I profess love and say it's not just because I'm drunk. I challenge. I dance. The sunset is a run of colors.
It's dark. I am sitting on cement
stairs. Margo and I are unhappy that Jazz is leaving us. We have no reason to be angry but we are. We forget. I forget. These memories have not surfaced.
I'm on the run for a corn dog. Only a corn dog can save me. I am barefoot in my bathing suit clutching money. I find a corn dog stand and buy one. I want ten but I have hardly any money. I find my friends again. Taxis will not pick us up because we are wearing so little. Margo saves the day by putting on a shirt.
Back at the pension. New friends have joined. There is chicken cooking and pasta boiling. I am a scavenger. I get in the hot tub with some chicken wrapped in lettuce. There is outrage. I hang out under cigarette smoke at the table where mosquitos dine on my legs with vigor. I complain that this is an outrage! Yet I do nothing. Things are more sharp now. I am tired. I go to bed. At midnight. I get a hangover. At 5 am. I wake up at 8:30. I am fine again. This confuses me, but I like it.
Breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and muffins. We dance to filthy rap music. I am so white. Drop it like it's hot. Irish immigrant accents. Inappropriate morning topics. We can't find taxis. Balloon hats. Rina, Mary, Margo, Jazz, Jeff, and I are in the taxi. Sex changes come up. Things get filthy. Jeff is loving it. We are loving it. We are at Mudfest again.
We cake ourselves in mud. So many photos. We make love to the press camera. Sometimes I don't think these Koreans are even photographers. Are they creepers??! No one cares because look how good we look with mud on our face!
Meet new people. They draw abs on me. I draw abs on them. Bottle cap game. I am sober. No one else is.
Get dunked in the ocean repeatedly. Salt water in my nose. Get thrown in the air. Start to feel like a rag doll. Decide I will become obese so I can not be thrown around so easily. Am told that is an illogical idea.
Train is leaving soon. I have to be the bad guy and make everyone leave. We reluctantly leave the beach party behind. It was one hell of a weekend. I hope someone remembers it more vividly.
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