In a blur of fur and sequins, Desert Hearts celebrated its 10th festival last weekend with four days of nonstop house and techno music, supernatural flow performers, dazzling fashion and enough love to warm even the most cynical heart. Nestled within the blustery oak groves of Los Coyotes Indian Reservation in northeastern San Diego County, festival-goers braved blinding dust, slapping squalls, and bone-chilling temperatures to dance with friends and family beneath the ever-hypnotic glimmer of the disco ball.

Known for its intimacy—the festival does not exceed 5,000 attendees—and its “one stage, one vibe” ethos, Desert Hearts has become one of the most talked-about boutique festivals in the scene. Founded by eccentric house and techno connoisseurs Mikey Leon (Mikey Lion), David Leon (Porky), Matt Marabella (Marbs), Ryan Orey (Deep Jesus) and Lee Reynolds, the Desert Hearts family continues to propagate, one fantastic trip at a time.

As usual, the event attracted an onslaught of the most beautiful freaks you’ve ever seen partying as if their lives depended on it. And you know those times when you catch strange one-liners in passing, either muttered, shouted or slurred by attendees in various states of mental clarity? Well, I wrote them down, and despite my handwriting slowly degrading as the days went on, I kept my handy memo pad and pen in hand, jotting down some of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard—and I’m so glad that I did.

Overheard while setting up camp:

“You can literally run around naked and no one cares.”
“Desert nipples!”
“You’re fancy on the face business.”

Overheard in other people’s camps:

“I dunno if I could date a hoop girl—they’re just always hoopin’.”
“You guys, I need a bigger sweater like, now!”

Girl 1: “Sometimes when I don’t know what people are talking about, I just put my straw in my mouth like this.”
[puts cocktail straw in mouth with a thousand yard stare]
Girl 2: “Does that happen a lot?”
Girl 1: “All the time!”

Overheard on the dance floor:

“Slippery as a salamander.”
“My foot is making your day.”
“Wyatt’s a stand-up guy, even when he’s sitting down.”
“We thought we saw our friend Peter Pancakes but it was just Jack Waffle.”

[After a girl elbowed a passerby while dancing]
Girl 1: “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”
Girl 2: “Never apologize for dancing!”

[Said by a festival masseuse offering a hand massage]
“That’s what I’m here for—I give hand jobs.”

[On being cold]
“I’m Jewish, my nose runs hot.”

Overheard while standing in front of a Funktion-One speaker stack:

“The bass makes my nose itch.”
“What the fuck did I just walk into?”
“This party is horseshit!”

Overheard from people walking past my tent as I tried to sleep:

“It’ll clear your jowls.”
“You want a booty shake? You want a lap dance? I can do that now!”
“I don’t know why, but I’m scared.”
“I never plan past Monday.”

Overheard while sitting on a deflated swan floatie:

“Sorry my foot was in your butthole.”
“Does anyone want a Smirnoff Ice? It’s been in my pocket all day.”

Overheard in the hookah lounge:

“Now we’re really piling.”
“Are we all moment-ing right now?”
“This is a classic orgy scenario right now.”
“I’m a strong, dark, Mexican man. I don’t need no bag!”
“I’m so fermenting.”
“Charmander’s lit for life.”
“I always instantly regret.”

Girl: “At what point do you guys care?”
Guy: “Nobody knows.”

Overheard on the dance floor on Monday, the last day of the festival:

“You’re smelling the future.”
“I want the slappin’ and the pluckin’.”
“Should we move here?”
“Foreskin Mondays!”
“So squishy!”
“They put a sausage in my hood.”
“We’re ambiguously brown!”
“Juice is a loose karma.”

[On allergy medicine]
“You put it up your butthole, right?”

[Screamed by a guy at the top of his lungs]
“I fuckin’ love clam chowder!”

[About a man handing out melon slices on the dance floor]
“Check out Gandalf with his cantaloupe.”

[On how Mondays usually suck]
“This is the opposite of a Monday—this is a Daymon!”

Guy 1: “I’m the nectar collector.”
Guy 2: “Well I’m the scallion stallion!”