SWAGFEST

I don’t even know how it started but I, KR, girl known for an exclusive musical relationship with the stylings of Billy and Lily, am a huge fan of Soulja Boy Tell ‘em. That’s right. I crank it. I kiss through the phone. I TURN MY SWAG ON. Once upon a graduation party, while jamming along with whatever iPod set the soundtrack for the evening, I invented a silly dance move to the southern rapper’s newest (?) hit. Now, it must be duly noted that I am neither Shakira, Beyonce, GaGa, J.Lo (pre-preggers), Britney (in her hey day), nor anyone of the Pussycat Dolls (rawr!). However, this dance move has caught on faster than both the “Shopping Cart” and the “Superman that Ho.” Basically, it involves pretending your hand is a mirror, looking in said glass, saying “Whassup,” and preparing to “get money.” Simple, right? Definitely. When this dance move crossed state lines and traversed the Borne Bridge, it only seemed appropriate that it get its own holiday. Alas, SWAGFEST was born.

If you haven’t caught on by now, I’m slightly off my rocker. It’s all in good fun, though. I like any excuse to celebrate, so this Friday, in honor of the conclusion of my internship (which, let’s be real, is more like a mourning. I love this place!), the first annual SWAGFEST is taking place. After a post-work, thirty-minute, FREE facial at Origins (No joke! Check it out!), I’ll move into a Manhattan hotel for the evening, ready to wine, dine, and go crazy. So, yes. I actually invented my own holiday. I’m more stoked that a Californian surfer on the day before a hurricane hits – but instead of a binding wetsuit, I get to twist and twirl in a pink ball of Rugby ruffles!