SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A VIRGIN (Year 2): Post-its From Two Days of Crab Cakes, Southern Comfort, and Rock Fests

Amidst the 100-degree heat, losing the Anne twins to the half-naked sunburnt throng in between acts, Wu-Tang and Velvet Revolver; the dust clouds of All-American red dirt; my trampled trusty Ikea mat that has managed to remain pristine after last year's fest; stark tanlines left by my torqouise hommage bra to Amy Winehouse; the Southern Hurricanes rendered watery by the heat and popularity; being shaded by a Walmart-bought Rolling Stones towel; snuggled, comfy, and in raptures wrapped in a recyclable garbage bag watching Pumpkins; picking empty bottles of water to earn the protection of that garbage bag from a summer storm; coming close to a public orgasm at the sight of Sting mouthing Don't Stand So Close To Me; hearing an incredulous "Mmm-hmmm," from a Pimlico gate mama jaded by years of Preaknesses, when I pointed out that the dainty tin of lavender-chamomile tea inside my backpack is INDEED lavender-chamomile tea (she let me through anyway); warding off advances from Hollister-clad jailbaits (just a couple) and; catching the eye of a rebel billionaire causing a huffed moment of panic and mental blabberings about fears of being a querida, nunhood and breaking my father's heart, I've said this before and I say this again and to infinitude (pause for breath): VIRGIN FESTIVAL 2007 WAS A MOTHERFRIGGIN' BLAST!!!!!!! The proof is in the crab cakes.

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To the twins Lou-lou and Row-row thank you for sharing this year's bacchanalia with me. What a summer! Mini-me, shove your Incubus pics up your ex's arse. Lou, thank-you barely encompasses my gratitude for your selfless persuasive talents over pimp-daddy, Beckham-wannabe trash-collector guy. Here's to looking forward to next year.

I'm saving my grungy Ikea mat and the garbage bag for next year.