I'm pretty much all about zoobomb, Portland, carnivals and now the Sprockettes. However, other people can describe me better than I can describe myself. My homeboy Jacob Berenedes once upon a time wrote:
"My neighbor Esther is a nice lady, a weird dresser with bright hair, and I don’t need to tell you that I very nearly spit when I learned that she grew up on the carnival. Yes, the carnival– shilling shitty trinkets to accommodating parents of garden-variety brats (”baby cry, mommy buy”), riding the egg scrambler for free, elephant ears for breakfast, corn dogs for lunch, knowing the angles, shouting “hey rube!”, etc.. so how is it possible, with all that and funny hair and tiny zoobomber bikes, skinned knees and dumpster diving, i ask you how is it possible that she did not know the bikini kill song “carnival”? i mean, we still like her- she’s great- but this new knowledge casts everything in a weird light, right?"
(I now of course know and love the Bikini Kill song Carnival)