Who’d a thunk it?
I was moved to call my best friend from high school yesterday.
“Johanna!” I squealed with all the gusto of high school days. “You are never going to guess what band I’m going to see tonight . . . WINGER!”
And then we had a half-hour long conversation about how hot Kip was in that tank top in the photo of that one album, which the name of escapes me now, but I used to know every word to every song.
Apparently, Albuquerque is *the* capitol of big hair metal bands, 1980’s revived bands and smaller acts that other towns don’t get. George Clinton and Parliament Funk are playing a casino in a few weeks. The amphitheatre recently sold out for Iron Maiden. And god-damn if Kip Winger wasn’t in town last night. Unfortunately, the act ended super early and they wouldn’t even let us in the door.
Umm . . Kip . . dude . . . . it wasn’t even 11 o’clock yet. I know that your hey-day was 15 years ago, but 11? Really? I mean, I had my Aqua Net ready and everything.