Arts Fest is like…
…coming home to a giant drunken bash that your roommate didn’t tell you about the night before a big meeting and finding that she is too shit-faced to help you clear everyone out so you hide in your room and hope that you can muffle the sound enough with a pillow to get the minimum amount of sleep you’ll need to be productive and not puffy tomorrow.
In short, Arts Fest, you may burn in the deepest part of hell.
Love and smooches,
Nick