I found a site (I don't even know through what means I stumbled on it) that kills me: The Annals of Dating.
Creepy e-mails from dating sites- they're enough to make you grateful to be married or outright ecstatic to be single. The ways people can be oh so wrong when they're horny are legion.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Playing Doctor
I went back to the doctor to find out the game plan for my treacherous wart.
Tangent: I also went for my appointment on Tuesday, July 11, which was the wrong day. I glanced too quickly at the card and read only the 7/11. Because reading comprehension is the hard and the difficult.
She came in and said one of the sweetest words in the language: Benign. The-wart-that-wasn't-a-wart is also not a cancer.
Apparently when she told me last time that the thing was a low-grade cancer, she was telling me a worst case scenario.
Which is kind of effed up. It's not like I tell my students when they hand in papers that their work will probably be Fs so that they'll be prepared for the worst and surprised by the better.
Bedside manner aside, she froze the little bugger, and I imagine I'll be able to say farewell to it in a couple days or weeks (I honestly don't know how long it will take and didn't want to ask her. She might tell me a year to lower my expectations).
I celebrated by buying three pairs of flip-flops at Wal-Mart. I now have six pairs of flip-flops. Maybe that doesn't sound like a lot, but it is a huge embarrassment of shoe riches to me. I tell you, come September, I'm going to be very sad to pack them up.
ETA: The doctor asked me if I ever had liquid nitrogen before. I told her not in a formal setting like this. SHE WAS NOT AMUSED. Another thing that cracked me up: she asked me if I was going to be in the sun this week. I immediately went into over-thinking mode. I don't go out in the sun to stay, but the sun manages to find me when I go outside. How does a person phrase that? So I told her that I'd get incidental sun, but not purposefully. She loved that shit. In the exchange that followed, she used the phrase "incidental sun" three times. I love it when someone picks up your words.
Tangent: I also went for my appointment on Tuesday, July 11, which was the wrong day. I glanced too quickly at the card and read only the 7/11. Because reading comprehension is the hard and the difficult.
She came in and said one of the sweetest words in the language: Benign. The-wart-that-wasn't-a-wart is also not a cancer.
Apparently when she told me last time that the thing was a low-grade cancer, she was telling me a worst case scenario.
Which is kind of effed up. It's not like I tell my students when they hand in papers that their work will probably be Fs so that they'll be prepared for the worst and surprised by the better.
Bedside manner aside, she froze the little bugger, and I imagine I'll be able to say farewell to it in a couple days or weeks (I honestly don't know how long it will take and didn't want to ask her. She might tell me a year to lower my expectations).
I celebrated by buying three pairs of flip-flops at Wal-Mart. I now have six pairs of flip-flops. Maybe that doesn't sound like a lot, but it is a huge embarrassment of shoe riches to me. I tell you, come September, I'm going to be very sad to pack them up.
ETA: The doctor asked me if I ever had liquid nitrogen before. I told her not in a formal setting like this. SHE WAS NOT AMUSED. Another thing that cracked me up: she asked me if I was going to be in the sun this week. I immediately went into over-thinking mode. I don't go out in the sun to stay, but the sun manages to find me when I go outside. How does a person phrase that? So I told her that I'd get incidental sun, but not purposefully. She loved that shit. In the exchange that followed, she used the phrase "incidental sun" three times. I love it when someone picks up your words.
Throw your soul through every open door
I finally made my second CD via itunes. I had hit a block because I didn't know how to mesh some songs with other songs, but then I split it up by gender and every tune fell into place.
The combination is 80 minutes of pure epic (or pure madness, but aren't they kind of the same?).
"Feeling Good" and "I Put a Spell on You"- Nina Simone
God, I love her voice. My ignorance of music is profound, but something inside me wakes up when I hear her.
"Rolling in the Deep" and "Set the Rain on Fire"- Adele
Adele is my new girl-crush. Amazing voice, and I don't care if she's the flavor of the month. I like her and these two songs.
"Gimme Shelter" and "Break It Up"- Patti Smith
Again, my music ignorance is profound; I didn't appreciate Smith when I was younger, but I sure do now. My sisters and I were talking about cool women of rock (who are also of a certain age), and she was number one. I wish I had someone to tell me how she's punk. I love her voice and think her cover of "Gimme Shelter" is better than the original, but I was trolling youtube for her songs and couldn't find one that I would consider punk. I think I'm missing something.
"Bad Romance"- Lady GaGa
How is the transition from Smith to GaGa? Better than you would think. This song is one of those that makes me so incredibly happy and lucky to hear on the radio. I'm also addicted to the videos of flash mobs that dance to it.
"S&M"- Rihanna
My former friend can suck a bag of dicks for giving me shit about saying S&M instead of SM. If it's good enough for Rihanna, it's good enough for me. Not to mention, she sings about smelling sex. I like songs that acknowledge that.
"Raise Your Glass"- Pink
Because I am too school. How could anyone not feel happy when this song plays? It's a rally cry for freaks of nature, and I'll car-seat dance to it with much joy.
"Back in the Day," "Sick," and "Letdown"- Bif Naked
She was on BUFFY, and when her name (or band's name) showed up on Google, I had to watch a few videos. Love her- love her ink, her muscles, and her Betty Page bangs. Then I read up and found out she's a cancer survivor. Hell yes, she can have three spots.
"Kiss with a Fist"- Florence + The Machine, "Ghost Town"- Shiny New Toys, and "Love in a Trashcan"- The Ravonettes
These songs make a lot of noise and make me happy. I came across them in my googling and youtube-trawling.
"Good Fortune" and "Bring You My Love"- PJ Harvey
I was pissed that Harvey's "Hitting the Ground" wasn't on itunes (I heard it on TRUE BLOOD and needed the song), but these two are nice substitutes.
"Crazy on You" and "Never"- Heart
What? The concert awakened a new appreciation of them. It's a good way to end a CD.
There it is- my second attempt at compiling pure awesome. As I said before, one person's listening treasure is another's pure torture.
The combination is 80 minutes of pure epic (or pure madness, but aren't they kind of the same?).
"Feeling Good" and "I Put a Spell on You"- Nina Simone
God, I love her voice. My ignorance of music is profound, but something inside me wakes up when I hear her.
"Rolling in the Deep" and "Set the Rain on Fire"- Adele
Adele is my new girl-crush. Amazing voice, and I don't care if she's the flavor of the month. I like her and these two songs.
"Gimme Shelter" and "Break It Up"- Patti Smith
Again, my music ignorance is profound; I didn't appreciate Smith when I was younger, but I sure do now. My sisters and I were talking about cool women of rock (who are also of a certain age), and she was number one. I wish I had someone to tell me how she's punk. I love her voice and think her cover of "Gimme Shelter" is better than the original, but I was trolling youtube for her songs and couldn't find one that I would consider punk. I think I'm missing something.
"Bad Romance"- Lady GaGa
How is the transition from Smith to GaGa? Better than you would think. This song is one of those that makes me so incredibly happy and lucky to hear on the radio. I'm also addicted to the videos of flash mobs that dance to it.
"S&M"- Rihanna
My former friend can suck a bag of dicks for giving me shit about saying S&M instead of SM. If it's good enough for Rihanna, it's good enough for me. Not to mention, she sings about smelling sex. I like songs that acknowledge that.
"Raise Your Glass"- Pink
Because I am too school. How could anyone not feel happy when this song plays? It's a rally cry for freaks of nature, and I'll car-seat dance to it with much joy.
"Back in the Day," "Sick," and "Letdown"- Bif Naked
She was on BUFFY, and when her name (or band's name) showed up on Google, I had to watch a few videos. Love her- love her ink, her muscles, and her Betty Page bangs. Then I read up and found out she's a cancer survivor. Hell yes, she can have three spots.
"Kiss with a Fist"- Florence + The Machine, "Ghost Town"- Shiny New Toys, and "Love in a Trashcan"- The Ravonettes
These songs make a lot of noise and make me happy. I came across them in my googling and youtube-trawling.
"Good Fortune" and "Bring You My Love"- PJ Harvey
I was pissed that Harvey's "Hitting the Ground" wasn't on itunes (I heard it on TRUE BLOOD and needed the song), but these two are nice substitutes.
"Crazy on You" and "Never"- Heart
What? The concert awakened a new appreciation of them. It's a good way to end a CD.
There it is- my second attempt at compiling pure awesome. As I said before, one person's listening treasure is another's pure torture.
Summer Hijinks Ensue
After a looooong day of helping a teacher friend write a monster paper, I came home to a note on my front door.
Before I get to the contents, a little friend pimpage: While I'm not the friend to go shopping with unless you're in a state of high anxiety or the friend to go dancing (or meat-marketing) with, I am the friend you call if you ever need to get a monster paper finished. I'm a queen of research and research writing, and I'm good for eight hours of work- straight on through, fueled by iced coffee and a need for speed and learning.
The note was from my sister Ella. She and her husband (let's call him Cyclist Brother-in-Law) and my brother went to a bar that night, and if I was feeling thirsty, I could join them.
A welcome end to a long and dreary day. We sat back, played Dropkicks on the jukebox (with a tangent into Bobby Darin because apparently "Beyond the Sea" is one of my brother's favorite songs. I tell you, you know a person for decades and they still manage to surprise).
Into the wee hours, we decided to go back to the house for food. My brother and CBIL refused my offer of a ride home (Why? Why would you want to walk a mile- a good deal of it uphill- with beer in your belly? Who does that? Is it my car? What's wrong with my car?), but Ella climbed in and we headed home.
A sharp turn onto my street and I had to swerve because a car was sitting in the middle of the lane. I asked Ella if we should stop, and she said, "Of course we should."
I pulled over, and she went to talk to the driver. She came back to me with this report: The driver was cocked, and her car ran out of gas. Maybe we could push it out of the way?
I shut off the engine and both of us took our places behind the car. Let me say that the road to my house from downtown is a hill before it flattens out. We were trying to push the car uphill.
No, we weren't drunk. We decided to push a car uphill sober. Maybe it would've been better if we were drunk: we might've been able to tap into some Hulk strength.
We pushed with all our might- nothing doing. I called to the lady, "What gear are you in?" "Drive." My sister told her to put it in neutral. She did, and we managed- with Herculean effort- to roll the car about a foot. Six more were needed to get her car to a safe place.
Ella told me to find the menfolk and tell them the situation. I zipped back downtown to find the boys. They hadn't taken our route because that's the steepest of three ways to the house.
When I found them and relayed the entire scenario, my brother was convinced that I was obsessed with giving them a ride home. CBIL looked at me for a moment and said, "I don't understand." I repeated the story. He said, "I still don't understand."
"Just get in the fucking car already!"
With reinforcements, we undertook to move the car. With much straining and groaning, we managed to move it to the side of the road. Sure, it was the no-parking side, but beggars can't be choosers when they drive big cars.
Get this: CBIL, Ella, and brother decided to walk the rest of the way to the house. Why? What the hell is wrong with my car? Even the cocked driver wouldn't take a ride.
Really, I might not be the best at driving, but I'm certainly not near the worst. I don't even car-seat dance when I have passengers.
We ended up back at home making late night omelets and bacon. I don't know what happened to the cocked driver, but I have a feeling her car was towed, which makes sense. Who the hell drinks without putting aside a couple bucks for gas? Who chooses that last beer knowing the needle is past E? No common sense at all.
Ella kept wondering why we had run into the lady. I figured it was fate. She was in the middle of the lane; I hate to think about what could've happened.
It was one of those weird moments on top of a pleasant evening. Who can really know the why of it?
Before I get to the contents, a little friend pimpage: While I'm not the friend to go shopping with unless you're in a state of high anxiety or the friend to go dancing (or meat-marketing) with, I am the friend you call if you ever need to get a monster paper finished. I'm a queen of research and research writing, and I'm good for eight hours of work- straight on through, fueled by iced coffee and a need for speed and learning.
The note was from my sister Ella. She and her husband (let's call him Cyclist Brother-in-Law) and my brother went to a bar that night, and if I was feeling thirsty, I could join them.
A welcome end to a long and dreary day. We sat back, played Dropkicks on the jukebox (with a tangent into Bobby Darin because apparently "Beyond the Sea" is one of my brother's favorite songs. I tell you, you know a person for decades and they still manage to surprise).
Into the wee hours, we decided to go back to the house for food. My brother and CBIL refused my offer of a ride home (Why? Why would you want to walk a mile- a good deal of it uphill- with beer in your belly? Who does that? Is it my car? What's wrong with my car?), but Ella climbed in and we headed home.
A sharp turn onto my street and I had to swerve because a car was sitting in the middle of the lane. I asked Ella if we should stop, and she said, "Of course we should."
I pulled over, and she went to talk to the driver. She came back to me with this report: The driver was cocked, and her car ran out of gas. Maybe we could push it out of the way?
I shut off the engine and both of us took our places behind the car. Let me say that the road to my house from downtown is a hill before it flattens out. We were trying to push the car uphill.
No, we weren't drunk. We decided to push a car uphill sober. Maybe it would've been better if we were drunk: we might've been able to tap into some Hulk strength.
We pushed with all our might- nothing doing. I called to the lady, "What gear are you in?" "Drive." My sister told her to put it in neutral. She did, and we managed- with Herculean effort- to roll the car about a foot. Six more were needed to get her car to a safe place.
Ella told me to find the menfolk and tell them the situation. I zipped back downtown to find the boys. They hadn't taken our route because that's the steepest of three ways to the house.
When I found them and relayed the entire scenario, my brother was convinced that I was obsessed with giving them a ride home. CBIL looked at me for a moment and said, "I don't understand." I repeated the story. He said, "I still don't understand."
"Just get in the fucking car already!"
With reinforcements, we undertook to move the car. With much straining and groaning, we managed to move it to the side of the road. Sure, it was the no-parking side, but beggars can't be choosers when they drive big cars.
Get this: CBIL, Ella, and brother decided to walk the rest of the way to the house. Why? What the hell is wrong with my car? Even the cocked driver wouldn't take a ride.
Really, I might not be the best at driving, but I'm certainly not near the worst. I don't even car-seat dance when I have passengers.
We ended up back at home making late night omelets and bacon. I don't know what happened to the cocked driver, but I have a feeling her car was towed, which makes sense. Who the hell drinks without putting aside a couple bucks for gas? Who chooses that last beer knowing the needle is past E? No common sense at all.
Ella kept wondering why we had run into the lady. I figured it was fate. She was in the middle of the lane; I hate to think about what could've happened.
It was one of those weird moments on top of a pleasant evening. Who can really know the why of it?
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Envy me
When I used to have my students respond to journal prompts (before I realized that I fucking hate correcting journals and that one of the bright spots of teaching and tenure is the right to say Hell No! to journals), I would ask them to describe a perfect day.
Most of the entries revolved around food. I am not kidding. Parents should know that they could give their kids perfect days, not by taking them to Disneyland or buying them the newest gadgets, but by having the cherubs create a menu for all three meals. Think of the money saved!
Yesterday, I re-read DEAD RECKONING, wrote some, dicked around on the internet, re-watched most of TRUE BLOOD Season Three* (I was getting my Southern vampire on), and ate buffalo chicken pizza.
I tell you, it was a perfect day.
*The viewing took a long time because the DVDs are chock-full of commentaries. I would have to watch an ep and then re-watch it with the commentary on. Because I'm sick like that. Incidentally, TRUE BLOOD has to be one of the best work environments that I've heard of. Everyone was full of compliments for their co-workers, full-on make-you-blush appreciation. Sure, they could be laying it on for the microphone, but I like to think everybody was sincere. When you think of the typical nightmare actor wrapped up in ego-centrism and pretty dumb, the performers and writers and directors of TRUE BLOOD completely lay waste to that stereotype. Which was an unexpected benefit to listening to the commentaries.
Most of the entries revolved around food. I am not kidding. Parents should know that they could give their kids perfect days, not by taking them to Disneyland or buying them the newest gadgets, but by having the cherubs create a menu for all three meals. Think of the money saved!
Yesterday, I re-read DEAD RECKONING, wrote some, dicked around on the internet, re-watched most of TRUE BLOOD Season Three* (I was getting my Southern vampire on), and ate buffalo chicken pizza.
I tell you, it was a perfect day.
*The viewing took a long time because the DVDs are chock-full of commentaries. I would have to watch an ep and then re-watch it with the commentary on. Because I'm sick like that. Incidentally, TRUE BLOOD has to be one of the best work environments that I've heard of. Everyone was full of compliments for their co-workers, full-on make-you-blush appreciation. Sure, they could be laying it on for the microphone, but I like to think everybody was sincere. When you think of the typical nightmare actor wrapped up in ego-centrism and pretty dumb, the performers and writers and directors of TRUE BLOOD completely lay waste to that stereotype. Which was an unexpected benefit to listening to the commentaries.
Nostalgia: That deliberate deja-vu that you do
I've been wondering about the bands who tour capitalizing on all of the 80s babies who are craving the past, and I've been reflecting on nostalgia in general.
Which is sort of like putting myself between two mirrors: Hello, Eternity.
Do the bands enjoy it? Are they fulfilled playing songs from 30 years ago or do they wish they could play entire sets of new stuff?
I'm not knocking them. I'm willing to pay good money (but not insane money) to see them, and I hope they get a kick and a contentment from watching a bunch of Gen-Xers, with a sprinkling of Boomers, get their rock of ages on.
One of the few parts of my teens and twenties that I look back on with any fondness is the music (and even that is decidedly qualified*). I hated high school, and even though my head is filled with sharp edges now (and don't get me started on the effing Molasses Swamp), at least I'm not crawling around on broken glass in the dark anymore.
The fact that I teach at a high school might be a choking hunk of irony, an example of living purgatory, or a tremendous piece of good luck...I haven't decided yet.
I don't want to go back to high school. Even if the angel of time travel showed up in a tardis and said I could do it again with what I know now, I'd refuse. I'm still shedding the skin and scabs of that time.
That said, I don't mind going into the music of the time with what I know now. It makes me happy, and I can't help thinking that going to these concerts (three out of the five shows I've been to in the last two years were of 80s bands) is a way to smooth out some sharp edges and give a rose tint to some terrible times. Not to mention: Tailgating!
*There are some songs from that time that evoke an overwhelming urge to puke. Not because of the quality (I'm not a music snob), but because of the emotional attachments. Case in point: "Waiting for a Girl Like You." Picture sophomore me in the throes of unrequited love, standing by the wall at a dance. As I scan the room for the object of my adoration, I see him on the dance floor. "Waiting for a Girl Like You" settles over the entire scene while I try to see who he's dancing with. He slowly turns and- what's this? Who's in his arms with her head against his chest? My best friend.
The soundtrack of my pain is Foreigner. Which will make going to see them in August very interesting.
Which is sort of like putting myself between two mirrors: Hello, Eternity.
Do the bands enjoy it? Are they fulfilled playing songs from 30 years ago or do they wish they could play entire sets of new stuff?
I'm not knocking them. I'm willing to pay good money (but not insane money) to see them, and I hope they get a kick and a contentment from watching a bunch of Gen-Xers, with a sprinkling of Boomers, get their rock of ages on.
One of the few parts of my teens and twenties that I look back on with any fondness is the music (and even that is decidedly qualified*). I hated high school, and even though my head is filled with sharp edges now (and don't get me started on the effing Molasses Swamp), at least I'm not crawling around on broken glass in the dark anymore.
The fact that I teach at a high school might be a choking hunk of irony, an example of living purgatory, or a tremendous piece of good luck...I haven't decided yet.
I don't want to go back to high school. Even if the angel of time travel showed up in a tardis and said I could do it again with what I know now, I'd refuse. I'm still shedding the skin and scabs of that time.
That said, I don't mind going into the music of the time with what I know now. It makes me happy, and I can't help thinking that going to these concerts (three out of the five shows I've been to in the last two years were of 80s bands) is a way to smooth out some sharp edges and give a rose tint to some terrible times. Not to mention: Tailgating!
*There are some songs from that time that evoke an overwhelming urge to puke. Not because of the quality (I'm not a music snob), but because of the emotional attachments. Case in point: "Waiting for a Girl Like You." Picture sophomore me in the throes of unrequited love, standing by the wall at a dance. As I scan the room for the object of my adoration, I see him on the dance floor. "Waiting for a Girl Like You" settles over the entire scene while I try to see who he's dancing with. He slowly turns and- what's this? Who's in his arms with her head against his chest? My best friend.
The soundtrack of my pain is Foreigner. Which will make going to see them in August very interesting.
The Concert
The concert was incredible.
Heart knew we were there out of nostalgia, and they owned that shit. Ann Wilson's voice is just as good as back in the day. Nancy's was a little strained, BUT she sang only "In Dreams," and her guitar playing and karate kicks showed her to be in fine form. They played only one new song, concentrating the rest of the set on the stuff they knew their fans would want to hear.
The ultimate Heart fan sat five rows ahead of my sisters and me. He knew every word to every song and wasn't shy about fist-pumping to the sky or playing air drums. He wasn't faking on the lyrics either. None of that make your mouth form general shapes and come in strong on the chorus for him.
I was fist-pumping along with him- tongue in cheek, mind you- until a change came over me. I started to become invested, and sarcasm was replaced by that pure passion that overtakes concert-goers. All of a sudden, I needed to hear "Barracuda" and "Magic Man," and my pointing and air-drumming were decidedly pure of heart. And when the band obliged me and played the songs, it was a dream come true.
Def Leppard was amazing, and although I never thought Joe Elliot was cute before, I did when he took the stage (although I don't understand why men wear V-neck t-shirts; the look doesn't suit most guys). The band didn't play any new stuff (do they even have new stuff?) and kept the energy pretty durn high during the entire show. They also played all the songs I wanted them to play: "Pour Some Sugar" and "Rock of Ages."
Tangent: Does everyone have songs that they need the band to play when they go to concerts? Is this a thing? Because my sisters do it, too.
There was the Ultimate Def Leppard fan directly in front of Emma, who was dancing up on her. My sister Ella also had a guy (not an ultimate fan) dancing up on her, which is par for the course: she always has these guys dancing with her at concerts. The UDL fan in front of Emma kept giving her lingering high-fives and turning to sing at her. I really thought he'd make a move and try to kiss her, which would've been just...Eww. Then he started dancing up and down the row until Good Sister-in-Law (who's also a bit of a badass) shut him down by telling him he was in the way.
Here's the weird thing: during the encore, UDL fan kept shouting, "Don't you forget about us, and we won't forget about you." Which was puzzling until the band finished the song, and as they were taking their final bows, Joe Elliot said...the line. Mystery solved, and UDL fan's status remained unchallenged.
Before the concert, due to the magic of the occasion and much beer, we all bought tickets to the Journey/Night-Ranger/Foreigner show in August. We know Steve Perry isn't touring with the band (but his replacement sounds just like him minus the douchiness. I imagine the Night-Ranger set will be wicked short, and my question is whether they play "Sister Christian" at the beginning or end. Hell, they could play the song at the beginning AND end; I'm sure no one would mind.
Apparently, this is the summer for revisiting- nay, reliving- the 80s. It's a shame I threw out my Flashdance sweatshirts and Converses.
Heart knew we were there out of nostalgia, and they owned that shit. Ann Wilson's voice is just as good as back in the day. Nancy's was a little strained, BUT she sang only "In Dreams," and her guitar playing and karate kicks showed her to be in fine form. They played only one new song, concentrating the rest of the set on the stuff they knew their fans would want to hear.
The ultimate Heart fan sat five rows ahead of my sisters and me. He knew every word to every song and wasn't shy about fist-pumping to the sky or playing air drums. He wasn't faking on the lyrics either. None of that make your mouth form general shapes and come in strong on the chorus for him.
I was fist-pumping along with him- tongue in cheek, mind you- until a change came over me. I started to become invested, and sarcasm was replaced by that pure passion that overtakes concert-goers. All of a sudden, I needed to hear "Barracuda" and "Magic Man," and my pointing and air-drumming were decidedly pure of heart. And when the band obliged me and played the songs, it was a dream come true.
Def Leppard was amazing, and although I never thought Joe Elliot was cute before, I did when he took the stage (although I don't understand why men wear V-neck t-shirts; the look doesn't suit most guys). The band didn't play any new stuff (do they even have new stuff?) and kept the energy pretty durn high during the entire show. They also played all the songs I wanted them to play: "Pour Some Sugar" and "Rock of Ages."
Tangent: Does everyone have songs that they need the band to play when they go to concerts? Is this a thing? Because my sisters do it, too.
There was the Ultimate Def Leppard fan directly in front of Emma, who was dancing up on her. My sister Ella also had a guy (not an ultimate fan) dancing up on her, which is par for the course: she always has these guys dancing with her at concerts. The UDL fan in front of Emma kept giving her lingering high-fives and turning to sing at her. I really thought he'd make a move and try to kiss her, which would've been just...Eww. Then he started dancing up and down the row until Good Sister-in-Law (who's also a bit of a badass) shut him down by telling him he was in the way.
Here's the weird thing: during the encore, UDL fan kept shouting, "Don't you forget about us, and we won't forget about you." Which was puzzling until the band finished the song, and as they were taking their final bows, Joe Elliot said...the line. Mystery solved, and UDL fan's status remained unchallenged.
Before the concert, due to the magic of the occasion and much beer, we all bought tickets to the Journey/Night-Ranger/Foreigner show in August. We know Steve Perry isn't touring with the band (but his replacement sounds just like him minus the douchiness. I imagine the Night-Ranger set will be wicked short, and my question is whether they play "Sister Christian" at the beginning or end. Hell, they could play the song at the beginning AND end; I'm sure no one would mind.
Apparently, this is the summer for revisiting- nay, reliving- the 80s. It's a shame I threw out my Flashdance sweatshirts and Converses.
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