Yellow Brick Road

I'm basking in the haze of hot sun and secondhand pot smoke at Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros the other day in Zilker Park. I'm stoked because Edward Sharpe had fast been becoming one of my favorite bands. I'm also a little drunk. I'm transfixed by the backdrop of the stage which includes a far off Emerald City and hills of yellow brick road. Because I'm a fruitcake, I start comparing my life to Dorothy's. This is easy when you:

a. Are alone at a gigantic music festival.
b. Have been sitting through almost 3 full days of mind blowing musical ecstasy, comparable in sensory bliss only to a lazy Sunday having sex on faux fur with Lenny Kravitz.
c. Need therapy.

I've met them all. The stupid, clumsy sweetie you just want to slap; the heartless one with such an impossible body shape getting close to them is an effort in futility and much lubrication is needed; and the cowardly lion (I've met many of them, in fact).

Which leads me to my Halloween costume...Lion Tamer. These brave circus performers are really just glamorous cat herders. While herding cats is something I'm not particularly fond of, the outfit is adorable and I like the metaphor of smacking around cowardly lions for the entertainment of crowds. Also, carrying a whip is rad.

After putting the finishing touches on my "bridesmaid dress turned sex-kitten circus freak," I think I'll have no trouble channeling Mabel Stark, the original fearless mistress of big cats, and seeking out some courageous kittens worthy of a good whip tickle. I declare this weekend opening night under my own little Austin Big Top. Like a what?!