We waited impatiently for Hole to take the stage – I even had “I’m here for HOLE” scribbled on my hand, which looks really funny ’cause the sunburn didn’t get through the ink, so you could still see a pale Hole logo on my hand the next day. The second stage was being broadcast over the PA on the main stage (so no one would miss a band whether or not they wanted to actually see them), and we all took a violent dislike to the band on at the time, The Flys, just because they were pompous jerks and overly pretentious. They introduced themselves by saying, “We don’t even have to be here, we chose to come here” – and they even said it twice, like they’re so bloody special or something. Yeah, well, if you’re so much better then anyone else, why aren’t you on the main stage, guys? Heh heh heh…

Hole. Definitely why we were there. They went on about 6:00. And the first thing Courtney says is, “Everyone out on the lawn, come on down. I’ll show you my tits.” So of course we lawn babies rushed down to the seats – if you haven’t been to the New World Music Theater, there’s a walkway separating the seats and the lawn, and security guards each tier of seats…the 200 section, the 100 section and the first few rows. You absolutely cannot go down any farther then you’re supposed to because the security guards take their jobs much too seriously, and a prerequisite for being security at a concert is that you’re supposed to have no passion for life whatsoever, and you have to live for your job and be the meanest, most fun-leeching succubus you can be. So they tried to shoo me back to the lawn, but I would have none of it. When the succubi weren’t looking, I climbed over a few rows of seats and tried to look like I belonged there. I guess I succeeded, because I made it all the way to the first row of the 200’s, where they were further separated from the 100 section by another walkway, railings and even more foul-tempered security personnel. I didn’t want to push my luck, so I stayed where I was and screamed for my Rock Goddess.

The set was flawless. I was too far gone to remember the order of the songs – and I’d lost my pen somewhere – but they opened with Courtney taking her top off and bringing the first two rows up onstage with her (God! What I wouldn’t have given to be there!). No, she wasn’t completely topless. She had on a filmy pink bra with fairy wings attached to the back, and a long pink skirt. She was the Queen of Punk, the glamour princess, the woman of the night. Some guy next to me was obviously not a Hole fan and kept shouting “Whore!” until me and the other Courtney Love fans next to me ganged up on him and gave him a piece of our minds, in a “FUCK YOU!” chant and group point-and-scowl session that ran him off after about a minute.

Courtney would’ve loved it.

The first two songs were “Violet” and “Awful,” and somewhere in there, suprisingly, was “Pretty On the Inside,” the raging beauty anthem from their first album. I adored it – I wished she’d played “Babydoll” though. They went on to play “Doll Parts,” “Heaven Tonight,” “Reasons To Be Beautiful” and “Dying”…I’m trying to remember the order as best I can. I know I was three rows down by the time they finished “Dying,” and glitter was flying everywhere. It was about then that the obligatory bitch up front said some smart comment about Kurt, and Courtney just reamed her out. You would not believe some of the things she threatened this girl with. She probably said the f-word more times than Al Pacino in “Scarface.” The crowd went nuts. She said, “You fucking little Internet bitch, don’t you even fuck with me.” She addressed the crowd. “Did you hear this bitch?” she asked. “She said something very mean to me about my husband, the man I had a baby with.” For some reason she didn’t say Kurt’s name. She spoke directly to the bitch again: “You come up here, you Internet whore. You believe everything you read on the Internet…you come up her and face me, I’ll rip your fucking hair out.” She should’ve thrown out of her seat. Snotty little bitch. You don’t ever want to get Courtney Love pissed off at you. You may as well invite a public stoning.

Besides, the Kurt thing’s like six years gone. Get over it.

Amidst a lot of cheering and a lot of glitter, the show went on for a half-hour longer than scheduled with “Boys On the Radio,” “Dying,” “Northern Star,” (just Courtney and Eric…some fantastic acoustic work on Eric’s part), “Miss World” and “Malibu,” and then Courtney rhapsodized about harmony between peer groups. “The princesses should be nice to the freaks!” she declared. “The jocks should be nice to the fags! I know some of the worst jocks in Hollywood, and I’m a freak, so it can be done!” I was loving this. She turned to Samantha, the drummer. “See, you’re a jock and I’m a fag girl, and we’re friends. Everyone else should be doing this.” I wished I’d known this woman in high school. It would’ve made everything a lot more fun for me. Finally the set culminated with a blistering, phenomenal “Celebrity Skin,” with thousands of people cheering and screaming and singing along. Freaks and princesses, fags and jocks…everybody had fun with it. If only they’d be like that all the time, there wouldn’t be as much evil in the high schools, you know? Probably no random shootings or anything. At the end of the set, she tried to give her guitar to some girl, but I think the tech took it back. As they finally got pushed off the stage (they played a half-hour longer than scheduled), every girl onstage with them got to go backstage.