Some days it just all falls into place.
(Knock on wood.)



Coachella's been sold out for months.
(Stupid Rage reunion. Audioslave's better anyways.)



And Nameless already snagged an extra ticket from one of her friends coming down for the festival.
("I thought you didn't want to go!")



But what's waiting in my company inbox this morning? A Saturday VIP ticket for sale.
("yespleez!")



So now I'm gearing up.
(Drinking plenty of fluids since tomorrow we hit triple digits. Vodka tonics count, right?)



And psyching up!
(Saturday is, pound-for-pound, the best of the festival's three days. Screw "planning your band schedule" and all that crap - the mainstage has Travis followed by Kings of Leon followed by Arcade Fire followed by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Those last two are non-negotiable. I've made that very clear.)



*Gasp* But wait! NO!
(Manu Chao plays the mainstage Sunday! Well screw me sideways. So much for Saturday being the only reason to go. There always has to be a catch, right?)



If there's any consolation, Manu Chao's French - I think - so his Spanish sounds really effed up.
(Says the guy who learned Spanish partly from his mom, partly from watching Baywatch reruns in Madrid, and partly from Hugo Chavez.)



In any case, I'm so stoked I could jog the Malibu coastline in a skimpy bathing suit in slow-mo like Ce-Jota and not feel the least bit shameful. Happy Friday!
(And no more of that Depeche Mode crap from last year, Jesus be merciful.)