Have you ever been to the The Cannes Film Festival, a yearly celebration of the newest films spanning all genres from around the globe? Well you probably should, because it it is the most celebrated and famous film festival in the world. It dates back to the 1940s, and is steeped in tradition. I’d like to think of it as the European Academy Awards, but realistically the Oscars are just our fake Birkin-bag knockoff of Cannes.

2,000 films are screened over the course of 12 days to colossal fanfare. It’s the second largest media event in the world behind only the Olympics. The festivities culminate with one film being awarded the Palme D’Ore, honoring the festival’s greatest cinematic achievement, an award that is unparalleled in it’s prestige within the world of film.  Cannes is also famed for showcasing emerging directors – where future legends like Quentin Tarantino and George Lucas gain their first large-scale recognition and launch their wildly successful careers.

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL YOU GUYS I’M JUST KIDDING. Imagine if I actually gave a sh*t about the “rich tradition” of Cannes? I don’t. However, I just went to the Festival, and in reality, the reason you should go is that it’s a playground for uber-rich European morons with natural tans so deep that they can only be achieved by riding horseback every day on a beach. At Cannes, you’re surrounded by guys from Monaco wearing tuxedos and drinking rosé at 10 o’clock in the morning, who will metaphorically (and as I found out one night, also literally) dump money into the f*cking ocean.

You just have to go.

5 Reasons you should save up your money and go to the Cannes Film Festival in 2015:

1. The People

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Some of you reading this have observed wealthy people saying and/or doing ridiculous things. Some of you have not. Either way, none of you have seen it on this level. People are wearing tuxedos literally at all times, attire that makes (sort of) sense if you’re going to one of the movie premieres (black tie has been the dress code for like 70 years at Cannes), but what about while you’re eating a croissant sitting on the hood of your Lamborghini? So dumb. It’s also crawling with Italian guys wearing bedazzled driving shoes, people in leather capri pants, white jeans as far as the eye can see, children in fedoras riding orange-creamsicle-colored Vespas, and women with fake boobs that are so rock solid they make LA implants look like big floppy naturals on a hippie at Bonaroo.

Sure, you could go to every city in Europe and seek out the biggest douche canoe there, but save yourself the time and just go to the Cannes Film Festival!

2. The Nightclubs

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Potentially the best part about Cannes is that the people there (save for any Jewish movie producers who dress schlubby but are actually billionaires) are obsessed with everything being “sexy”, “decadent”, and “super #1!!”. They want their cars flashy, their women insanely “gorgeous,” and their parties exxxxxtra wild. And while this can often induce utter cringe, it is SO entertaining to watch.

The best example of this is the nightclubs that are “happening” at Cannes. At first look, they’re just ridiculously gauche sweatboxes filled with bottles and models and copious amounts of Rihanna songs that were popular in 2009. But no, no, no … Cannes takes cheesy nightclubs to the next level, because it must be “the most sexy!!!” (imagine that being said in the voice of an Israeli club promoter).

That means the clubs are legitimately the size of the Roman Colosseum, and every 10 minutes a parade of scantily clad exotic girls trot out bottles with sparklers in them. Except this isn’t Vegas kids, so it’s actually 450 bottles (at $2K a pop) being delivered to a Saudi billionaire whose favorite monthly hobby is blowing up his own house with an actual Military tank and then forcing people to rebuild it, BUT BIGGER. There are women wearing catsuits and licking milk out of bowls in an attempt to be “super sexy” and the bartenders are suspended upside down from long white sheets like it’s f*cking Cirque Du Soleil. Every single club serves sushi. At one club the bottle of champagne CAME WITH SUSHI. Like, what? Basically you could stand against the wall for hours on end watching this bizarre movie in extremely high definition.

3. The French Stuffiness

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You know how French people are the absolute worst? Ok, good. Take what’s in your head right now about how bad they are, and multiply it by the highest number you can think of. The “storied tradition” of Cannes makes the French even more uptight, and they demand compliance with their bullish*t. You have to wear a tuxedo to see a movie, and you can’t get into anything without black shoes. It’s a lot like Nazi Germany, but fancier.

Oh, before I forget, while on my trip I was denied entry onto a yacht for a party because I didn’t have a scarf on. REALLY THINK ABOUT THAT. It’s consistently funny to watch them get uptight when overweight Americans show up and start acting dumb. Yours truly got kicked off a golf course for putting with a baguette. Come on guys, lighten up.

Here’s my visual representation of this:

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4. The Sheer Amount Of Rosé Being Consumed

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Cannes marks the start of what is affectionately known in America as “rosé season.” We all know that white girls named Lauren and Jen in the United States take their pink wine very seriously, but the Cannes Film Festival rosé scene is not a game, IT’S A LIFESTYLE. People are just drinking it everywhere at all times without fail. It’s a round-the-clock rosé-athon. I personally poured 25-30 bottles on myself for no reason during the 5 days I was there and, as an educated guess, would say that somewhere between 750,000-1.25 million bottles get consumed during the 12-day festival. Fun!

5. The Sheer Bizarre-ness Of It All

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One night I found myself at a party on a yacht (which is very common at Cannes) and this is exactly what was happening:

Sharon Stone was possibly coked up (read: 1,000% coked up) and I found myself with the big spenders from Eastern Europe who owned the boat (of course they had named it “Sexy African Lady”, which seemed possibly racist), and they invited me to a back room – that I assumed would be filled with gold bullion and prostitutes – but actually it was occupied by a single, glorious ostrich, just chilling. And that’s the type of confusing/amazing Cannes situation you inevitably find yourself in: just hanging out on a yacht with an ostrich, coked up Sharon Stone talking about AIDS research, and a bunch of guys from the the Eastern bloc chain-smoking Marlboro Menthols in full 3-piece suits despite the 88 degree temperature.

Other bizarre things I saw that cannot be unseen are as follows: watching shirtless Justin Bieber on stage at a nightclub singing Happy Birthday to Busta Rhymes while pouring tequila all over himself in one of the most blatant displays of homoeroticism by a straight man that the world has ever witnessed, and a greasy European driving a Bentley with a cheetah riding shotgun listening to LMFAO’s “Party Rock Anthem” … because, of course.

Like I said before, go to Cannes. See you in 2015.

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