I had made a promise to take two teenage girls to a hot, loud, crowded outdoor concert festival, Warped Tour, almost a year ago. I was not looking forward to it, but I couldn’t get out of it. I had worked all night, and figured I would be exhausted. But they would have fun. I would just suffer through, and maybe just sleep at the Reverse Daycare they had set up for parents. At least it would be cool.

That actually was my plan. Stay in one spot. Regular check-ins. Responsible parenting. Motherly martyrdom as is proper.

Fuck that! It is not my style. I never even opened the flap.

I turned, listened for the closest stage, and headed toward the sound. I walked up to the first man I saw behind the barrier, and called him over by name. He opened the barrier, hugged me, and waved me through.


“The kids dropped me off at the Parent Daycare. Cool. 5 minutes later I am backstage. Shh. Don’t tell them. #SlutPower”


“I am a very friendly slut.”

Now I had seating, shade, a beverage selection, and sexy men surrounding me. The river of festival goers is always entertaining to watch pass by from a comfortable, private spot as are the bands backstage. I did begin to feel a bit guilty for being an irresponsible parent though, so I headed back.


“The parent’s tent is as exciting as a doctor’s waiting room.”

I tried. I really did. Since the cell towers were overcrowded, I had annoyingly spotty service on my phone. The selection of puzzles, magazines, and dvds were bland enough. But the lack of any actual human voices drove me out. I think I lasted about one minute.


“*escapes again in search of beer*”

Again within 5 minutes, I was comfortably seated again. This time with new friends, staff at the comedy tent. And I had found I fun new way to ‘tweet’. One knew the shortest route to beer, and invited me to come back.


“Mission successful. Don’t tell the kids.”

I recharged my phone, enjoyed my beer, and chatted. It was fun, but not near where the girls thought I was. And the show was going to start soon.

“I could sit here & watch the parents get drunk all day… But I’m late for a date with a comedian. The kids think THEY’RE having fun…”

After the show, it was time for the first ‘official’ check-in. They are good girls, and were early. I told them that my daycare had been moved, and that one of the stages was now the official rendezvous location. For some reason, the girls started checking in very frequently.

“Run off & play little girls. Momma is busy backstage. *keeps loading pipe*”

I was having a great time. The girls were looking a bit worn out. They kept checking in. I kept giving them water and telling them to go have fun.

“*wonders what either of them looks like naked* Or both. Both would be better.” (Two of the guys backstage, not the girls.)

I was enjoying my view, and imagining possibilities. That was the one kind of fun I could not have today, though. So I saved contact info instead .

“My kid told me to stay backstage with the crew & not wander out where they are. LOL for real! I am winning at parenting.”



“*jumps in & surfs the crowd* *wonders why they keep handing me condoms*”

I couldn’t stay put, especially after my 14 year old told me to. So I said I’d be back. I needed to charge my phone again anyway.

“Beer thirty & 4:20, seated & cool. Hope the girls are having fun at the festival. Last report was 4 sore feet & 1 headache. Amateurs.”

After their favorite band played the girls came back to check in. They were ready to leave. I was still going strong. Oh well. They’re young.


“Cheap hotel rooms make me horny. I am sure you are all shocked.”

I woke up in a cheap hotel bed with a disoriented feeling. When I walked out for a morning cigarette, it almost felt shameful that my hair was not hopelessly knotted, my clothing was appropriate, and that I wasn’t grinning from ear to ear. The true Slut Walk of Shame.

Oh well. I am doing another festival next weekend. I am not taking any kids, and I have plenty of condoms now. 😉

Sinful SundaySee who else is being sinful with me this week.

Category: pics, Sinful Sunday
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