The Black SheepVol. 1, Issue 1 4/24/14 - 5/7/14

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MEMORIES YOU MADE THIS YEAR.

DEAD DAY SURVIVAL GUIDEJESSIE SAPENARO WROTE THIS

Before finals cause students to cry, the semester shuffles off this mortal coil on a Razorback’s favorite holiday, Dead Day. But the real celebra-tion is the day before, when all the students go out and drown their anxieties and fears about finals week in lots and lots of alcohol. The real name of Dead Day should be “Feels Like Death Hangover Day,” but the faculty decided to shorten it because they felt that it hindered their reputation for academic excellence. The funny thing about Feels Like Death Hangover Day is that it’s meant to be a day of studying, but the whole hangover thing always wins out. The Black Sheep can help you beat the Dead Day hangover so you can use your free day to study. Or watch Netflix in the library.

Don’t Move: If you did Dead Day Eve correctly, you can’t move from your bed, or wherever it is you passed out. Preparation is key in this case. Before you start your festivities, put everything within arm’s reach of your slumber spot. That means strewing about ten water bottles to help sate the drummer in your head, stuffing your wallet under your pillow so that you can get Jimmy John’s delivered without moving from your room, and stashing all of your study materials and a large bucket, just in case, at the foot of your bed. If everything is nearby then you can still study without moving a muscle.

Avoid Sunlight: It’s in your best interest to keep all lights off and all blinds shut. Does your so-fast-sub delivery person call? Tell them to just come inside. To your room. Remember, don’t turn the lights on, the Jimmy John’s delivery person will be frightened away if they see your a wretched spectle of what used to be human. But it might make being productive a tad challenging if you can’t see anything, so we bring you words of wisdom and suggest you get a book light and strategically place it within arm’s reach (see above). Plus, the Jimmy John’s person might be uncomfortable if you’re not only in your bed, but also in the dark; some people take that combination as a sexual pass.

Set the Alarm: Unless you got hammered and still made it to bed by 10 p.m., then you’re going to be tired on Feels Like Death Hangover Day. Or maybe you have an unexpected guest that you forgot about and you want him to leave before Jimmy John’s gets there, just in case the delivery guy is attractive. In your drunken haze you need to make sure you set an alarm early enough to get your special friend out of there. Actually, set like, ten alarms throughout the whole day in case you fall back asleep, in that state of mind homework’s boring and sleep solves everything.

Use Your Last Ounce of Willpower: There are no tips or tricks here. You’ve powered up with food and hydrated what’s left of your decrepit body, so now it’s time to do the damn thing. Fire up your favorite sitcom on Netflix and slowly work your way into a sitting-up position. When the credits start to roll, shut the laptop and grab one’a them books, it’s learnin’ time.

Treat Yoself: If you made it through your Dead Day hangover and ac-complished something then you deserve a prize. Maybe it’s a nice hot shower, because that would be a prize for anyone. Or maybe a full, tall mi-mosa… minus the orange juice. Either way, you need a present. You can

just keep saying to yourself, “That Rick’s Bakery cookie is going straight to pound town once I finish this paper.” Self-pep talks can go a long way. Just because you feel like dying doesn’t mean you have to stare death down while being completely unproductive. You’re a college student; you’ve become excellent at multitasking. If you can learn how to get shit done while you’re hung-over then you’ve basically mastered the world. So then maybe the whole point of “Feels Like Death Hangover Day” is a teachable lesson. Drink whenever you want and however much you want, but just know that in “grown-up world” people don’t stop living because you have a hangover.

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MOM “CATFISHES” SON INTO BLIND DATE IN HOPES OF FUTURE GRANDBABIES

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Arkansas student and Little Rock native Chase Fillo has been looking forward to the end of his last semester at the U of A. Like most college seniors, he’s both sad to leave the college life, but excited to experience a new career in a new place.

With plans on taking a job at a marketing firm in Illinois, Chase was preparing to move on to the next chapter of his life. His mother, however, couldn’t bear the thought of her “handsome snuggle bunny” moving out of state and took desperate action. Last Wednesday, Mrs. Fillo tricked her son into going on a blind date with a friend’s “nice and pretty” daughter in hopes of instant love. The Black Sheep brings you this disgusting story.

After delivering the good news to his parents about his recent employment, Chase noticed a change in his mother’s behavior.

“I don’t know, I thought she’d be a little sad about me moving away, but I didn’t think she’d get all weird about it,” Chase said. According to other family members, Mrs. Fillo-- who’s been known to comment or like every one of her children’s Facebook status updates-- “went off the deep end” and began to make everyone worry. Chase’s teenage sister, Clara, chimed in about her mother’s strange behavior:

“She keeps making lasagna for dinner, like, three times a week. It’s Chase’s favorite meal, but like, no one can eat that much lasagna. She also keeps trying to tuck him in at night. He’s 23 years old.”

The tense time hit a boil when Mrs. Fillo told her son that a coworker wanted to meet with him to give some marketing advice. Chase was all too eager to gain some knowledge from an experienced professional and quickly agreed to the meeting.

“I was stoked,” Chase said, “this Dan guy had like twenty years in the field, according to my mom. Hell yeah I wanted to grab a beer with him.” Upon entering Hog Haus Brewing Co., however, Chase wasn’t met by a mid-dle-aged marketing pro, but was instead greeted by a plain-looking girl with brunette bangs and shiny braces.

“Yeah I was confused at first, but then the girl told me my mother set it up,” Chase said. Laura, a junior at the U of A, was the daughter of Mrs. Fillo’s hair stylist. Being the “polite good-looking gentleman” that his mother claims him to be, Chase played it cool and sat down to eat with Laura.

Chase cursed his mother under his breath as it became apparent that he and Laura had zero spark. According to a later report, Laura had “the sense of humor of a

Vietnam vet getting frustrated with electronics,” and Chase had “the biceps of coddled eleven year old boy.” The two shook hands after dinner and parted ways with no intention of a repeat date.

Despite his mother’s attempts to keep him local, Chase still plans on finishing this spring semester at the U of A and then moving to Chicago. We cornered Mrs. Fillo to give us a statement in regards to her trickery, but she was too busy setting up a Tinder account under Chase’s name. When asked about the possibility of her son meeting a nice northern girl, Mrs. Fillo grabbed

her chest and faked a heart attack for the next twenty minutes.

College is fun, but at some point every student has to say goodbye to both school and family. Chase found out the hard way how emotionally turbulent a family member can become when you leave. Take it from his mother’s Catfish attempt and let them down slowly. No one wants to puke up lasagna and be set up with a person who “talks as if she hosts a midnight NPR radio show.” The Black Sheep wishes this year’s U of A seniors the best of luck.

NIC KANAAR WROTE THIS

Cinco de Mayo is right around the corner, and as such, it seems time for a history lesson. Perhaps you didn’t know, but Razorbacks have a lot in common with historic rural Mexico. Many Mexicans learned of their independence days after the fact due to the speed of communication, much how we learn about current events days after they happen because we only read Newswire after scouring every other possible piece of material that exists digitally. This year, The Black Sheep

suggests harkening back to the days of the people who made our neighbors to the south an indepen-dent nation. It’s time to party like rural Mexicans.

This isn’t an easy charge, but we have some sugges-tions that are sure to liven up your Cinco de Mayo while paying homage to the people who made it a possibility. We suggest going to the Union, building an adobe home, filling it with five hot babes and then

shooting it with five water hoses until it becomes the world’s fifth greatest mud-wrestling pit.

If you feel like a calmer afternoon, you can always grow agave, then harvest its luscious leaves and turn them into tequila. Once you’re a seasoned tequila farmer, life ought to get a lot easier for you. Members of the opposite sex will suddenly become attracted to you, and thirsty Thursday will take on a new meaning. But remember, the day after Cinco de Mayo, fondly referred to as May 6th, you’ll be absolutely banned from using the “struggle bus” line in describing your massive hangover. Instead, we insist you text all your friends about riding the struggle alpaca.

Much like some days on campus, things get real mundane in rural Mexico. It’s this mundane-ness that gives rise to the joke that will inevitably appear in every romantic comedy—lead actor gets hit in the dick with a baseball bat, because blonde babe misses the piñata. The rural Mexicans had many a long day, and so they thought to themselves—“well, we ought to invent something that we can beat the shit out of. When it explodes, it will rain candy.” It’s a simple idea, but it’s proven more valuable than therapy sessions. Go to the store, and buy a piñata. But please, act like you’re a collegiate rural Mexican and fill that bitch with some drugs and alcohol.

If not one idea has yet struck you as the perfect way to spend your Cinco de Mayo, fear not. The rural Mexicans were religious people whose Catholic faith caused them to build rad Mary shrines in their homes,

complete with candles and paintings. This Cinco de Mayo, modify the theme. Take the individual you’re crushing on, paint their face, and then surround it by candles. Make your bed, clean your house, light some incense, and invite them over to “have a few beers.” Sure, they may be surprised at first, but they’ll warm up to the idea. According to a study probably published somewhere, bitches love shrines.

There’s never anything wrong with playing “Alamo.” It’s based on attempting to overcome insurmount-able odds, doing really well for a while, and then still failing, but having an awesome story to tell later. You might consider hitting Dickson, with the intention of doing five shots at five bars in five minutes, simply as a way of paying homage to the great date that we’re celebrating. You can tell your buddies, “Hey I’m totally not gonna vomit.” And later, as your face is flying to-wards the toilet, preparing to upturn your stomach like Godzilla in New York, you can know with confi-dence that you fought the good fight—that when everything was against you, you almost won.

We’ll say it again: It’s not easy partying like a true rural Mexican. It takes confidence, courage, and the desire to succeed, even though failure seems a viable outcome. Cinco de Mayo provides an opportunity to party in a way that none of us ever have. This holiday, The Black Sheep urges you to get on your donkey and travel the non-existent path through the middle of the desert. Party like a rural Mexican, and come out enlightened.

LIVING HISTORY: CINCO DE MAYO IN FAYETTEVILLECLAUDE NOBS THE SECOND WROTE THIS

05

What had been a friendly game of volleyball soon turned in to chaos when Trent Miller, known as “Meathead Miller” became too passionate about the match. The game took place at the Spectrum volleyball courts, where any U of A student could sign up a team and play. Though no prizes or awards were offered, Miller was there to win. No matter the costs. The game had taken place at the Spectrum volleyball courts where any U of A student could sign up for a team and play. The coordinator of the event, Sarah Rothenberg, described the event as “a fun, non-competitive game that anyone could join as long they brought a good attitude and maybe a few beers to share.” Unfortunately, Miller had brought neither. Miller was there to win, no matter the costs. The Black Sheep brings you the story.

Miller, after being banned from University of Arkansas intramural sporting events after an unfortunate cheerleading accident, had heard about the game and immediately signed up, forcing five cowering freshmen to join him.

“I heard he got kicked off the cheerleading team after he punted one of the cheerleaders.” Rotherberg cowered, “The Razorbacks didn’t win any medals that round, and all of a sudden you just hear Meathead screaming ‘NOOOO.’ Then he just drop-kicked poor Susie, the girl he was holding up, straight at the judges. I mean, I get school spirit and all, but it was a gymnastics tournament. Nobody gets that pissed over tumbling! But he wasn’t banned from this event, so I couldn’t say a thing.”

Sadly, Miller lived up to his reputation of being “a burly hunk of meat with testosterone for blood.” He started out the day by running onto the courts, screaming gutturally, and ramming himself into anyone that had their backs turned. He had named his team “The Juice,” referencing either steroids or O.J. Simpson, neither of which anyone was willing to ask about.

When Miller found out who he and his teammates would be playing against, the process of intimidation began. “Well, I looked over and there’s Miller making these ridiculous gestures at me. Like, at first he was miming someone getting punched over and over again,” the opposing team’s captain, Lloyd Montgomery, said. “Then, when I didn’t respond, he just grabbed one of his poor little freshman teammates and started shaking him like crazy, maintaining eye contact with me. I’m not sure how I was supposed to take that one.” This was only a glimpse of the panic to come.

When both Miller and Montgomery’s teams were called to the court, Miller immediately ripped of his shirt. “Yeah, he’s definitely on steroids. His arms are like the size of a monster-truck wheel,” Montgomery said. It took four tries before the game could actually start on account of Miller becoming overexcited and popping the volleyballs against his forehead. The fifth ball was handed to Montgomery’s team instead, causing Miller to chuck handfuls of sand at the referee while he screamed: “THAT’S BULLSHIT, REF. THE ROCK NEVER HAS TO DEAL WITH THIS!” After spraying him with a hose, Miller calmed down enough to play the game.

However, Miller was not able to handle the rush of adrenaline once the contest began. He scrambled across the sand, trying to come in to contact with the ball, only to miss by a few feet each time. The game went on around him, his scrawny teammates struggling to get the ball over the net, as he loped from side to side. Eventually, he settled on screaming things like “FRESHMAN, IF YOU MISS THIS BALL, I WILL SHOVE MY FIST UP YOUR ASS AND SPIKE IT FROM YOUR MOUTH.”

Miller’s team was soon disqualified after he became frustrated and dive tackled the net in an attempt to distract the opposing team. Meathead beat his chest in rage, and some spectators say that he chucked the smallest of his teammates at the referee.

AROUND CAMPUS

Oh, the things you wish you could say to a cop, but never will. Let’s face it, cops are kind of scary. On the flip side, there’s the U of A PD, a group of glorified mall cops. Campus police are never quite as frightening as a true city cop; in fact The Black Sheep encourages you to mutter one of the below phrases to them. Nothing bad ever comes out of insulting cops, right? Right?

10.) “I was headed to Rick’s Bakery, did you want me to get you some too?”: A classic stab at the “cops only eat doughnuts” joke, Fayetteville edition. Let’s be honest, Rick’s Bakery’s food is the tits, and if you were a part of the “cops are fat because all they eat is doughnuts for breakfast, lunch and dinner” stereotype, you’d take part too.

9.) “You’re not a real cop, are you?”: It’s campus PD, don’t they have to, like, call the real cops when they see something is wrong? That’s why they have stun guns instead of real guns, and grocery store-grade pepper spray, right?

8.) “I can’t reach my license, will you hold my beer?”: Your friends will think you’re a badass instead of a jackass, but we all know the truth.

7.) “I used to want to be a cop, but I came to college instead.”: Drop this one when you’re speeding and you’re pissed at yourself for not using your radar. This guy was just waiting for you to screw up.

6.) “My last mug shot from Washington County was really good, can we use that one?”: This one comes after a tear-filled night on Dickson St. followed by a knee-scraping, wrist-breaking, tumble from the curb. Your face looks like someone took a red marker and drew spots on it, and your eyes look like a bottomless pit of despair, your mom doesn’t need to see you like that.

5.) “What do you know? You’re a pig.”: If you wanted to, you could play it off like a Woo Pig Sooie Razorback joke. Chances are, though, these guys never took part in academia. 4.) “Do you have special training to drive that golf cart?”: Golf cart cop doesn’t really give you any faith in his ability to actually solve a crime. If there was actually a reason he was needed, he couldn’t help because his cart only goes 20 MPH.

3.) “Do you work on a favor system like that cop from Tennessee?”: A very slutty way to say “officer, help me help you.”

2.) “Sir, you look parched, want a beer?”: Only offer if it’s the good stuff, they don’t want your Natty Light -- they get that cheap shit from the freshman dorm rooms every Friday.

1.) “You see I dropped my gun while I was reaching for the weed bag, it got lodged on the gas pedal, causing me to speed.”: One-way ticket to Washington County. Your friends already have the app. on their phones; it’s only a matter of time before the whole university knows what you did.

THETOP

TENMEAGAN JANUARY WROTE THIS

THINGS YOU WISH YOU COULD SAY TO THE POLICE

COLLEGE JUNIOR TAKES INTRAMURAL VOLLEYBALL

WAY TOO SERIOUSLYMEAGHAN BLANCHARD WROTE THIS

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Now that spring has finally sprung, it’s the perfect weather to head anywhere there are trees – prefer-ably with branches that are closer to the ground – and start participating in this season’s hottest trend: hammocking. But where can you find the perfect spot to hammock? The Greek Theatre’s trees are usually oc-cupied on sunny 75-degree days, so, The Black Sheep has found four beautiful spots to hammock, play the ukulele, have a prayer circle, or do whatever is socially acceptable while hammocking in public.

The Square: At first glance, the branches look too skinny, if you weighed more than 80 pounds it would snap, and the trunks look so small you might as well just pole dance on them. But, if you trek your Chacos around the Square a couple times, you’ll eventually find a perfectly accessible tree for hammocking. And hey, fear of hammocking failure might just be the impetus to lose a couple of lbs.

“My sisters and I literally adore this spot for hammock-ing,” Julie Carmen, a freshman Tri-Delt commented. “Plus, all the cute shops are right there and all of the clothes are totes adorbs.”

Wal-Mart: Located in every city in Arkansas. Wal-Mart has many great places to set up your hammock with friends. Anywhere you are able to be suspended something off the ground, you’re in business. You could place your straps on the door handles in the frozen section or head to the garden section and it would be like you were outside, but less bugs. The best thing about hammocking here is that there are so many crazies walking around, people won’t even notice that you’re hammocking in the middle of the toilet paper aisle.

“Every time I go shopping in Wal-Mart, this one guy is always hammocking in the freezer section while eating a Hot Pocket,” Jack Perry, a religious Wal-Mart shopper said. “I don’t know how he heats it up, but

it’s great product placement. I always include Hot Pockets on my grocery list now.”

Grubs: Set up your hammock on a Thursday night and you’re set to get really drunk. You don’t have to worry about getting home after a long night of dollar drinks, just pass out in your hammock you’ve already set up before your night began. And the best part is that when you wake up (probably around lunchtime), you can order amazing food to cure that hangover and it will be delivered right to your hammock. You don’t even have to get out of that comfortable nylon U-sack.

John, a local hammocker, noted: “My buddies and I love going to Grubs to set up hammocks and then drink the night away. The patio outside has some good trees where we can smoke and drink and then wake up the next day and grab some much-needed food. It’s awesome.”

Your bedroom: Located wherever you live. For stu-dents living in a dorm or an apartment, you could set up your hammock anywhere there are two posts. Or, just lay out the hammock on your bed and lie on top of it and then it’s super comfortable and it’s like you’re being outdoorsy, but you’re still in bed. Try switching up different places around you because anywhere there are two posts, that’s an opportunity to hammock.

“I love to hammock,” Chris, a junior engineering stu-dent, said, “but it kills my lower back. So I just stick to doing it in my bedroom, on my bed.”

Hammocking can be an any-time-of-day activity and it’s free, especially if you already own a hammock or you’re able to bum one off of a friend. So grab people, some Smirnoff and music and enjoy yourself. Start planning your hammocking experiences now, be-cause you won’t be hammocking long after college.

KATELIN HOWELL WROTE THIS

HAMMOCKING IN FAYETEVILLE

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Final Paper EditionWell, this is going to suck. But maybe writing your final paper for the semester won’t suck as much if you can’t remember how much it sucked! That’s right, you’re young and people still expect you to be irresponsible. Milk it for a little while longer! Grab a bottle and get to writing.

What You’ll Need: Microsoft Word, a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey, spell check.Number of People: Just you, baby. Just you.Level of Intoxication: Enough to get you through the next 1,500 words.

How to Play: - Go to your backpack and get out your prompt for your final paper.- Laugh and put it away without reading. You’re going to freestyle this one.- Take six-to-eight shots as fast as you can. Open Microsoft Word and get going.- After 10 minutes, when you make it through the first four pages of your paper, take a full cup of that bad boy. You’re going to need it. Everyone knows the hardest parts of papers are the last few pages.- Shit, did that last paragraph even make sense? Who cares. All you need is a D- and you pass the class. Also, even if it was all gibberish, it will still look a lot better than the paragraph before it where you copy and pasted the Declaration of Independence.- Rip another shot for creativity! How many has that been now? Who cares, this is a paper, not a math test. That last drip from the bottle should get you to the end of the paper. If not, just give up. You’re way too drunk.

The Game Ends When: Nice job! You did it. Now that you’re finished with the paper, you’re all done with that class. Until next semester when you have to retake it, of course, because there’s no chance in hell you could’ve passed.

Watermelon MargaritaSummer’s just around the corner, and the warmer weather calls for some sweet treats to sip. We found a dainty little recipe for a watermelon margarita that pairs perfectly with chips and salsa or a lot of Coronas. Or both. Take your pick.

What You’ll Need: 1 seedless watermelon cut into cubes, juice from 2 limes, 4 ounc-es silver tequila, 2 ounces orange flavored liqueur, 2-3 cups ice, sea salt, simple syrup and lime wedgesMix Time: 10 minutesFatty Factor: Depends on how many Coronas you drink afterwards.

Let’s Get Drunk:- Grab your blender and fill half of it with the cubed watermelon.- Add 2 cups of ice, the tequila, orange liqueur and lime juice.- Blend everything together until it’s nice and smooth.- Spread the sea salt out on a small plate.- Rub the lime wedge around the rim of your margarita class and dip it into the salt.- Pour in the margarita and garnish with the lime wedge.- If the drink isn’t sweet enough for you, add in some simple syrup.- Ole!

This recipe only makes 4 servings, so do the math and make enough to fill up your bath-tub.

Relationship Status: Single

Favorite Drink: Gin and soda

Favorite Shot: Push-up

Disgusting Drink: Jager

What’s the least-used liquor behind your bar?:Patron

Has anyone ever tried to pay for a drink with something other than money or sex?: Not for me, but during Bikes, Blues & BBQ things can get a little hairy around here.

How long do you think you could spin in a circle behind the bar without hitting something or someone?: The bar area is pretty small, it wouldn’t be long before I knocked everything over.

What’s your favorite rap line?: I don’t listen to rap, but my favorite song line is from Group Love’s “Ways

to Go:” “I didn’t ask for that, You give me heart attack, I didn’t want to care, And then I saw you there.”

Why shouldn’t we ask you to borrow some money?: Because I don’t have any.

What carnival game, if forced, would you bet your life on?: Any and all racecar video games, like at Dave & Busters.

Would you rather push a grandma down the stairs or shit all over the bed during sex?: Push a grandma downstairs, because you could run away from that situation. When you shit in your bed you’re committed to it.

I know what you are, but what am I?: A window-licking putz.

Why should people read The Black Sheep?: Because it’s local and it supports local places, plus it’s pretty funny.Andrea of Hog Haus

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ten People You’ll See at This

Summer’s Music Festivalstex mex wrote this

Well, it’s about that time of the year again.

The time when millions of prospective concert-goers spend an arm and a leg on weekend-long sum-mer music festivals without the slightest idea of who’s slated to perform. The pre-festival hype pe-riod is a time where parents’ bank accounts are mysteriously emptied of $300, old and new fans alike bitch and complain over whether or not this year’s lineup for a fest is complete shit or not, and drama ensues as you try to figure out who in the hell out of your friends is cool with driving to the stretches of the nation just to see someone you missed at a club show a month ago. Whether you’re an arrogant prick who hates humans and prefers smaller venues, or an obnoxious self-proclaimed hippie who loves nothing more than taking drugs at “festies” and shitting out rainbows, if there’s one thing we can all agree on, it’s that festivals bring out the most diverse group of people outside of a UN meeting. Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza, Pitchfork, Firefly, Electric Forest – doesn’t matter – be on the lookout for these 10 people who you are guaranteed to see, whether you like it or not.

ten people you’ll see at this summer’s music festivals

10.) Girls Wearing Flower CrownsFor whatever reason, coating their arms with badges of honor from every festival they’ve gone to so far isn’t colorful enough, in spite of the mold that’s growing on that Coachella bracelet. Flower crowns seem like a way to say “I’m earthly and care about nature” or some bullshit that would normally take a trending Tumblr im-age to explain. That’s at least all we can come up with, because there’s no way in hell that these things are actually being worn because they look good. Still, we’d take a ring of plastic flowers from Hobby Lobby over the majority of things that people dress themselves with at EDM fests.

9.) The Saint who has a Spray Nozzle Attachment for his CamelBakOne of the defining pastimes of music festivals is watching college kids braving 90-degree weather without water because they think they’re immune to heatstroke. When you’re packed like a sardine against thousands of sweaty, sticky people, the dude who sacrific-es his own water supply for the sake of cooling off his sun-burned comrades is like God himself raining down from heaven. This guy usually dons a fishing cap with a smile, too. So, for as much as your passive aggressions build up dealing with drunken kids passing out, you’ll at least have one person to not loathe for the day.

8.) The 30-something-year-old Dude Who’s Only There for His Favorite Alt-Rock Band of the 90sOne of the select few at the fest who actually has the means to buy a ludicrously priced ticket, this guy is here for one reason and one reason only: to catch his favorite rock act from back in his teenage days, a group who’s just gotten back together or “one last tour.” Usually well-sun screened, sporting cargo shorts, New Balance gym shoes, and a black shirt that proudly displays the band’s logo, he’s completely okay with sitting on the grass hundreds of yards away from any actual stage. He’s a nice guy, just don’t talk about the band. “What’s your favorite song?” will quickly turn into “How would you analyze the band’s aesthetic moving from genre-to-genre within their entire catalogue, EPs included?” real fast.

7.) Someone Bitching about being Pushed and Shoved in a CrowdAlso known as the person who gives off a stark “Ugh…” as you try to assert yourself to the front of the stage, this is generally some-one with a big enough sense of entitlement to put a teenager from SoCal to shame. For whatever reason, the fact that festivals are events designed for hundreds of thousands of people to occupy the same area at once isn’t something that registers for this poor soul who thinks a gentle tap on the shoulder is equivalent to being “like, so totally fucking rude…”

6.) Someone Trying to Validate their Taste in Music... at the Actual Festival“Oh, you actually wanna see Mumford & Sons over up-and-comers Hippopotamus Shits, who are clearly superior than that radio-tier garbage? Yeah, I’ll be over at the No Fun Stage where all the more low-key, experimental acts are for the day.” This is also the type of person willing to openly berate others for their choice in festival, often citing that “X festival is too ‘commercialized’ these days and that nobody goes for the music anymore.” This person derives their superiority complex from so-called open-mindedness, all the while sucking Pitchfork’s metaphorical dick.

5.) The VIP-bracelet Noblemen who Look Down upon Us Peasants from their Golf CartsEven when tickets sell out faster than you can spam “F5,” no one in their right mind actually considers spending the extra thousand dollars for a VIP pass. We’re too poor to dabble with that sorcery, but we assume that whoever’s riding on a VIP pass definitely is a “very important person,” or at least knows someone important enough to have a shit ton of cash. As they golf cart to and from the air-conditioned VIP lounge, all the rest of us “standard 3-day” people can do nothing but wallow in their awesome might … and lament on the fact that we’d honestly rather joy ride in a golf cart for three days than feel the heat of the sun and buyer’s remorse pelting us from above.

4.) The Kids who Pass out on Alcohol/DrugsLook, we’re not stupid; we understand that no amount of “just go to festivals for the MUSIC” PSAs aren’t stopping anyone from bring-ing along their favorite vodkas and illicit drugs. It’s a festival, for crissake. But you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who’s totally okay with some high school grad puking on his shoes halfway through a set from drinking warm Natty for three hours. The same can be said for people who roll a little too hard during the day. Too much ecstasy won’t leave as big of a mess, but no one likes the guy lugging his half-dead girlfriend out of the crowd, screaming as if this was a surprise to him.

3.) Younger Kids with Noise-Canceling Headphones onWe’re not knocking this at all since we’re so used to seeing the ef-fects of bad parenting every time we walk past Perry’s Stage at Lol-la. There’s nothing more heartwarming than seeing younger fellas enjoying themselves with responsible parents who actually don’t want their kids to become deaf at the tender age of six. We’re not really sure how an environment filled with alcohol and pot fumes really meshes with this, but goddammit, they’re trying.

2.) The Towering Behemoth who’s Your Ticket to the Front of the CrowdNot all of us were granted the God-given attribute of breaking the six-foot barrier, and that makes snaking through huge crowds more intimidating than progressive. For the vertically challenged, the train pretty much stops when you hit a wall of people who are more inclined to beat the ever-loving shit out of you than passively grouch at your advances. Enter the behemoth, otherwise known as the dude who’s getting to the front whether anyone likes it or not. Latching onto one of these suckers is a lot like being in a school of remora attached to a shark: The big dude won’t really care, and you’re safe from anyone closing gaps on you. What are they gonna do, tell your new, hulking friend that you can’t move up?

1.) More Bands You Don’t Care about Than Ones You DoIt sucks, but it’s true. From the moment the day-by-day schedule comes out and conflicts knock your lineup of a whopping 50 acts to a measly 15, you’ll realize that you’re not going to see your fa-vorite headliner up close without sitting through at least 3 or 4 bands that you’d rather drink paint than watch. If the mediocre lineup reveal jumpstarted that buyer’s remorse, this is usually the second helping. The Black Sheep understands that heavy drinking is hazardous on such hot summer days, but you’d better drink up at this point, because that two-piece indie folk band isn’t getting better anytime soon.

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