HEY. Guess who has two thumbs and has more time to edit photos she took, oh…FOUR MONTHS AGO? THIS KID.

Here’s the thing. I am not a professional photographer. I was not paid to take pictures of the Monolith Music Festival. I simply had the badge that said I could.

Said badge also got me into the media and artists tents, which got me booze, and fish tacos a-plenty. But also, booze. It hit me more at some times than others, like when I decided to photograph Redman and Methodman.

When they first came out, Redman dissed the photographers, saying something about how “WE’RE HERE FOR THE PEEPS, NOT THE PAPS” or something, and I was all, “Hey. I’m a pap.”

“I’m not a slave to the man!” I wanted to say, perhaps after tugging on Meth’s purple polo. “I’m just a freeloader who just *hiccup* drank copius amounts of pino greeszh.”

And to show them, to prove to them I belonged there? I fell into the biggest black hole of Uncool: I launched into The White Girl Bop.

Worse yet, I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS DOING IT, until someone pointed me to YouTube.

Peep this at about :50, if you don’t get vertigo first. I’m the chick with the dark short hair, navy blue shirt, and plaid red skirt — you know, with the camera, taking shots that I think are going to be KILLER but are mainly just blurry upshots of Methodman’s armpits. Yeah, that’s me. Dancing in and out of frame.

I’M WHITE.

I GET IT, NOW.

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