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All posts for the month June, 2017

I’ll Always Have Paris

Published June 21, 2017 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

Blonde girl in light up Butterfly Boobs:

“Ohmigod can I take a picture of your skirt? I want to do something just like that for my clothing line. It’s amazing.”

Me: “Sure Paris Hilton.”

 

I could stop there because as a former tabloid baby and celebrity news junkie – having a conversation with Paris Hilton has now been entered into the Heidi Hall of Fame Moments Library.  It’s a huge library despite a fair amount of dust and memory loss, thank you alcohol, and quite a lot of the files have deteriorated over the years from liquor spillage or edible mushroom mold or a little weed smoke damage and that one time I think I dropped acid but can’t really remember and maybe a couple other drugs that have slipped through the brain cracks, but this moment lives in pure clarity – ish – along with so many others recently formed at EDC. Paris Hilton was lovely and she was wearing a tutu and a rainbow shaped back pack purse and in my book – that makes you cool.  For those of you not in the know – The Electric Daisy Carnival is the most beautiful rave you can ever hope to go to held in the middle of the Las Vegas Speedway and attended by almost half a million people or from what I could tell – one million perfectly pert boobies. But lets start at the beginning.

My friend Victoria is besties with one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. She’s a world famous former playmate turned television star  turned new york times best selling author, wife, mom and she’s a total badass… like legit… like unsuspectingly cooler than all y’all motherfuckers. She’s also a Disney princess. A real princess. I know this because I’m quite certain I saw birds help her get dressed the night of the show. I was a little stoned. But I’m sticking with this. Anywhooo – she’s married to the king of the Electronic Dance Music Festival Scene – and EDC is the biggest there is. I don’t want to be a big name dropper so I’ll just tell you that her name rhymes with Molly Hadison and he only needs one name – Pasquale – and it’s a name you hear on repeat as you walk through the masses at this amazing show. But I didn’t really know any of this when I said yes to a day trip to Vegas.

Victoria: Want to go to EDC with me for a day?

Me: Yes. (BEAT) What’s EDC?

Victoria: It’s the EDM festival in Vegas.

Me: Great. What’s EDM?

 

Victoria is also way cooler than me. But all I needed to hear was there’s music, it’s outside and there are more neon lights than any neon light junkie can handle and I am a super freak neonaholic. So I said – YES! Now the panic set in – what does a 56 year old carrening into 57 fashion freak wear to a neon rave and try to fit in without standing out but look cool enough to make people think – who’s she? The answer? – I brought four outfits. Also – no one in this crowd cares who anyone over 40 is.  I first decided to try and strip this weird green color that has been in my hair for weeks but sadly ending up making it even greener so I had to dye my red hair – chocolate brown. DULL. BORING. LOSER. BLEND IN. SIGH. That was the first sign I should just shut up and let shit happen. Then I looked up some pictures of what other people wear to EDC and realized – oh wait – it doesn’t matter what I wear because all the girls there are naked. BONUS! So I picked a black tank dress with a pink neoprene skirt over it emblazoned with the word heavenly. Yeah I know – I’m a little past heavenly but – it worked.   Victoria and I drove to Vegas – pulled in to the Palm Hotel and checked in to our perfect room chilled to any icy sixty something. I attempted to put false eyelashes on Victoria but I’m still not sure I got it right and I may have permanently blinded her with glue but hey – she had some shit to bat away the 115 degree heat. I wore a baseball cap with the words Central Casting to keep my jew hair in control.  Jew Hair in Vegas is like a recipe for an afro.  I didn’t want a frizz bomb on top of my wrinkles.  No one needs to see that. We all left from one house together and drove to the Chopper pad. I’m sorry – Chopper pad? Yes, that’s what I said. Chopper pad. It was time to smoke some pot. Flying high was going to be way better if I was flying high. We entered the helicopter lounge and there was a full on rave already going on inside and we hadn’t even hit the concert yet. It was 11pm – aka – already past my bed time.   People were throwing back shots and recharging their battery packs to make sure their nipple pasties didn’t lose any wattage during the show. There was a dj and airline stews wearing sexy butt bearing outfits. I was immediately sad that this didn’t exist when I was growing up and had way better tits to support some light up pasties. I would have rocked some neon tutu’s and ass bearing angel wings back then. If I wore them now they’d just be shining a light on my knees and nobody wants to watch a swiss cheese ass even if it has angel wings above it. But I digress. We boarded the helicopter and swooped up and over one of the most magnificent sights i’d ever seen.  The festival from above was exactly what the inside of my brain looks like and I had never seen it until then. Neon – everywhere. EVERYWHERE. It was truly beautiful and massive. Our choppers touched down and we were immediately moved into golf carts which spun us off to our first stage – or backstage as it were – where I almost instantly walked smack into DRAKE. And I even knew who he was so that was a major bonus.  Drake is very tall.  And handsome.  We dated for the entire ten seconds I was standing next to him.  Moments later we were whisked through GEN POP (the crowd) and out onto a special platform where we got to watch Drake surprise the audience on stage with Young Metro. Okay so had I not seen what outfit Drake was wearing before I watched the show – I would not have known it was him because it legitimately took me twenty minutes just to find where the music was coming from on the stage. I’m old – so I assume the act is actually on the stage. But with Dance music – they’re above it – in a tower – and I could not pinpoint the source for a solid amount of time and I knew I couldn’t ask anyone I was with because the lame alarms would have gone off and someone would have kicked my old ass straight the fuck out of there. So technically I saw Drake but honestly I just saw the end when I finally realized the shirt on the guy onstage was the shirt I had just almost backed into earlier and dated for ten seconds.   I was also with a very cool young man name Tal – who legit runs Las Vegas – and he would have definitely revoked my cool card if he knew I didn’t know what the fuck was happening – or to be honest – who the fuck Young Metro is – but I do now mother fuckers – I do now. And he’s genius.

I love music festivals. I’ve been to quite a few recently – but this one is different. Every single solitary person I encountered – was nice – and kind – and sweet – and really into the music and being together and dancing. I’m sure that unity and kindness came in a pill form called Molly hence the amount of free love I was watching – but it didn’t feel like a big drugged out bunch of losers at all. It felt magical. I was whisked through so many crowds via bodyguards and onto so many stages with dj’s who’s skills truly blew me away. I mean – I was literally on stage with Kaskade. (the cool kids are feeling me right now) It was the most exclusive pass to the most magnificent show I’d ever seen. I was in the White House with the President – and the cool black President not the weird orange cheetoh President – the only difference is – this President actually OWNS the house – and it’s not white – it’s pink and orange and blue and purple and filled with giant moving owls. We would walk through the crowds and they would part to take a picture with Pasquale – a true electronic god among men. How many concerts have you been to where the promoter and creator is actually bigger than the musical acts? It was an incredible thing to behold. People were so grateful for what he has created and you could feel it in the way they called his name and took pictures with him and thanked him for all he’s done. And you could see it in his eyes – his pride – for this lit up legacy he has created out of nothing. It was inspiring. I looked around and said – I could never produce something this big. Victoria took a beat and said – yeah you could. And she was right. It was in this crazy moment of booming sound and pulsing lights that I realized – I need to dream bigger. I need to say yes to more than just a night in Vegas – I need to say yes to all of it.  And when we set our mindS to what we want we can make things happen.  Just then the sun started to come up and we decided to end our magical night at EDC.  IT WAS 5AM. I turned to say thank you to Victoria just in time to see near naked twin sisters making out with each other.   Okay – so maybe not everything was magical.  In the end the EDC not only  turned on all the light bulbs in Vegas – it turned on the big lightbulb in my brain. I hope I don’t get the electricity bill.  At least – I’ll always have Paris and her amazing grizzled grey haired ponytail wearing bodyguard – who wore that rainbow backpack for her when it got to heavy.

Camp Indian Head aka Jewtopia

Published June 12, 2017 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

I was ten years old when I learned the fine art of begging. There was something I wanted more than anything, would die if I didn’t get, life would be over, I’d be stamped a loser for eternity, all the cool kids were doing it, please Mom and Dad please don’t make me stay home all summer, please let me go to sleep-away camp! For those not in the know – sleep-away camp is where Jewish kids and one or two stray non Jews went in the summer for 8 glorious weeks at a time. Yep – two months of childhood freedom somewhere in Pennsylvania or the Berkshires, or other places Jews learned no one else wanted to go and so they built a bunch of cabins on a bunch of lakes. Talk about a congregation of nerds and the largest collection of flat irons the world has ever known. (In fact – I learned my first hair straightening trick back then which involved wrapping your hair around a soda can.) I grew up in Staten Island where all the Jewish kids fled for two months every summer to magical places where no parents existed. I wanted in and I wanted in bad. The camp I chose was called Indian Head.   The year was 1971 and it would cost 975 dollars to put me up and feed me for two months. At the time, this was an outrageous amount of money. This was the kind of cash my parents would have to do without other things to afford. But my begging was first class – and I got what I wanted. It was an experience that would last ten years and make me the person I am today.

After my parents handed over the fees we were sent a list of more things we needed to spend money on. The first thing we had to buy was a trunk and uniforms and name tags. Basically it looked like I was heading to a well organized neatly dressed death camp in the 1800s where everyone used steamer trunks. I had to get a canteen and certain types of shoes and I had to have white clothes for Friday night services. Uh oh that didn’t sound good. But I didn’t care. I was heading to Indian Head in Honesdale Pennsylvania. My friend Judy had been going to camp there and it sounded really great. We boarded our buses in Staten Island and off I sped to the greatest summer I was ever going to have. The first day I arrived – Judy told all the other girls I was an asshole and they all stopped talking to me immediately. I cant remember why she said this?  Maybe we both chose the same boy to set our sights on that summer? All I know was, I was alone. I was alone in Pennsylvania. I was alone in a bunk in the woods with twelve other ten year old girls. I was doomed.   I hated it. I wanted to go home. I wanted Judy to die. This was the worst mistake I ever made. At the end of the first week – I fell over a rock and broke my wrist. Now I had a cast. Now I WAS an asshole. A klutzy asshole.  (Thats yiddish for clumsy) Now I couldn’t partake in any of the water activities – water skiing and sailing – which I loved the most. I hoped a bear would find me and eat me. I prayed a monsoon washed the camp away every night. I called my parents and begged them to let me come home. My mom basically told me to go fuck myself. They had just dropped all that money and there was no way I was coming home in a week. Then something magical happened – I entered a tether ball competition. (this is slamming a ball on a string around a pole and the first one who winds it all up on their side wins – don’t try to figure it out it’s retarded.) I hit that ball with my cast and slammed home a win like I had never seen. Instantly I was a hit. I was the badass with the cast. Judy could go fuck herself. Judy was the nerd. I was the winner! And from that day on Camp became the single greatest experience of my life.

I’ll never forget the cabins and the moldy cubbies where you would put your clothes that NEVER seemed to be dry. They were like little youth hostels in the woods. I’ll never forget getting called up to the flagpole in the morning when it was your birthday or you won a special competition. I’ll never forget the MD line that split boys camp and girls camp and standing on that line kissing your boyfriend goodnight – toes on each side – leaning in then breaking like you were never going to see each other again – but you would at 2am when you would sneak into each others cabins on what was called A RAID – and make out till the sun came up. My very first boyfriend was the camp owners son. Well fucking done Heidi. I’ll never forget going to the Canteen for dances and using coupon books to buy sugary treats. I’ll never forget the musicals I starred in or the overnight camping trips to the Third Hill where we would tell ghost stories. I’ll never forget the bonding time with girls who I still see on Facebook. I’ll never forget watching movies outside on blankets on a big lawn – still one of my favorite things to do. I don’t remember that many moments from my childhood but I remember every single solitary day from camp like it was yesterday. I still dream about it today. I went to camp from the ages of 10-20. I would spend every summer as a camp counselor today if it paid more than two hundred dollars.

I learned how to share, how to be independent, how to make things, how to produce things, how to choose friends, how to be a bully, how to eat terrible food, how to write letters, how to win, how to lose, how to camp out, how to kiss, how to do makeup, how to sing, how to dance, how to sail, ski, swim, play every sport there is, how to laugh, how to cry, how to be a human being. But most importantly – I learned that there are no limits to who you can be. We were shown a world of choices and we were being made into strong independent confident women.  And those Friday night services were way less about religion and way more about congregating and bonding and taking a moment to be thankful for all that we had. Camp was everything. Indian Head – was everything. I only wish I still had one of my shirts with my name-tag in it. I would wear it proudly today.

If you have little kids – send them away for as long as you can afford.  Send them to camp.  They’ll be better people for it.