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If possible, the iPod is turned on, or a CD is played, and once Bon Iver or The National are on again you’re reminded that you’re a socially aware, farmer’s-market-shopping 20-something who reads good literature and only buys fair trade.

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Coachella has come and gone, and with it starts the summer of hipster-infested festivals. Although they’d love to maintain their pale physique, they love smoking American Spirits with thousands of people more. Tis the season when they show their feathers, as though a bird of paradise strutting its stuff during mating season.

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Wake up, remember what happened the day before, sob. Get in the shower and stand so that you’re facing the water. This will create the illusion that you’re not crying. Blow your nose into your hands. Talk aloud; giving unsolicited responses to questions that no one is asking you because your “talk” was unsatisfying. Say what you need to say.

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As usual, she’s redeemed herself (sort of) with her follow-up single, “Teenage Dream,” the title song from her new album. It’s a slightly more rock-flavored affair that kind of makes me want to fall in lust and hit the beach (though not necessarily in that order). That said, “Teenage Dream” is indicative of my overall problem with the 25-year-old rising star.