London, Bitches.

I never imagined this blog hitting a point where the best I can do is give an update on my life in the last week. I hate the idea of it, but god help me, I kinda like it. I know, overall, it's a lazier approach in comparison to what I've written about in the past, but if I can effectively write about anything without giving up halfway through, I'm golden. Plus, I kinda like how I feel like Doogie Howser when I'm relaying my thoughts and detailing all daily adventures. Sometimes like Carrie Bradshaw, too.

Secrets revealed all up in this bitch.

You see, I'm leaving. No, not forever, but for the next week. I'm traveling abroad, seeing the sights, tasting the grand cuisine of another country. Yeah, I'm going to London. Why? I'm going to Rebellion Fest in Blackpool, a three day music festival full of all the bands that will make you seem better than everyone else for seeing. Bands like Eddie and the Hotrods, The Boys, Menace, The Damned, etc. A lot of British punk that must be seen whenever and however, by any means necessary. 'Cause some of those dudes are fucking old.

Lots of American bands, too. Bands from all over the globe, really. I'm really stoked to see some of these guys, which rivals the second reason (arguably, the first reason) as to why I'm actually thrilled to sit in a plane for sixteen hours.

Truthfully, this trip is as much of a music festival adventure as it is a reason for me to drink. Which, even more truthfully, is main priority number one. Everything I've seen in films and on TV paints the classic pub as the greatest place to be in or around. There's something really charming about the "British pub," and I want my pants charmed right the fuck off.

I figure I'll see what I need to see, check out the dungeons here, look at the royal stuff there, I dunno. I really do just wanna sit in a pub, pretend to enjoy whatever sporting event is playing and be one with the crowd.

If I'm not poisoned by mid-week, I will have failed.

I wish I could write more, but I decided to sit down on the laptop exactly one hour before I'm off to the airport. Ridiculous, I know. I wish I could keep in touch with all you people living in the area to hang out, shoot the shit and grab a pint (OMG! I can't wait!) but my phone doesn't work in your wacky country and I'm not about to check my online persona at random Internet cafes throughout the area. Ehh, I might. Totally addicted.

So that's where I'll be and that's what I'll be doing when you notice the Facebook updates run cold and the tweets die off. I'm not being lazy, you see, I'm being lazy in another country.

See you soon, dudes!