Unskinny BOPBOPBOPBOP

The following post was begun on Monday, August 18. I've been adding and tweaking for several days. The final product begins......

NOW.

Last night, a lifelong dream came true, thanks to my Neil. In March, while Dad, Joe and I were driving to L.A., Neil couldn't hold my birthday present a secret--he'd scored us tickets to the STL Poison concert in August. I have been so stoked for the event, that when it finally drew near, I couldn't believe it was actually going to happen!

Neil and I drove up to the STL in the late morning, ready for a full day of events. We first stopped at the reptile show, the site of Sean's purchase (I want to change the spelling of Sean's name to S-H-A-U-N. It's cuter, and more British. Do you think that would be too traumatic?) to get him a new, larger piece of driftwood to bask on. It was a very efficient transaction, and we then moved on to the Best Strip Mall on Earth, near Emily's house. It houses a Borders, a Whole Foods, an REI, and a Container Store...I don't believe I've ever left a Container Store empty-handed. My bank account thanks their corporate office that there's not one in Columbia. I'd been wanting a market tote for weeks, and liked the designs they offered, so I finally indulged:





I chose the green, after some consideration.

Next, we trekked over to REI, where Neil purchased some very handsome "hi-lo" corduroy pants and an attractive brown top. Then we were off to Emily's, a little down the road. We spent a very glittery 15 minutes wrapping her "thank-you-so-much-for-helping-us-with-the-wedding-including-invite-printing/
designing,-cupcake-making-photo-taking,-and-in-general-being-an-honorary-
maid-of-honor" gift: a very heavy and large box containing a trampoline.
She came down to see us with little Noah in tow, and we had a wonderful (albeit short) visit.

But the Main reason for the St. Louis trip was drawing near. Neil and I got freshened up (note my TOTALLY HARD-CORE earrings in this cute photo Emily took):


and were on our way. We made it to the UMB Bank Verizon Wireless Pepsico JCPenney Exxon Valdez Amphitheatre right at 7:00, when the opening bands were to begin. I was impressed at the smoothness of it all there: compared to parking at the Chicago Bears field (Soldier? Whatevs) where we were last summer for the USA/Mexico soccer game, this was a breeze. We even parked far away in order to make a fast getaway later, but it was still a fairly short walk.

As we neared the venue, my excitement for the coming show battled with my desire to just stand in one spot and gaze with amazement at the skank-a-riffic fashion choices that had been made by our neighbors, largely female...though there definitely were some questionable hair-and-makeup choices on the men, too. Middle-aged women with inappropriately tiny shorts paired with teetering strappy sandals and sequined tank tops...lace-edged capri leggings underneath a black and white checkered pleated schoolgirl skirt with suspenders, a wife beater, pink-edged hair, and fishnet sleeves...(this girl was standing in front of us. Her boyfriend wore a darker wifebeater, a bandanna tied neatly around his head, a TIE, and had applied a liberal amount of guyliner). The opportunities for people-watching was endless, though, and I knew we'd have the whole night for that.

We rounded the bend to the main doors after being patted down for illegal 80s-Hair-Band weapons, and I heard a voice. A familiar voice. The loudest voice in a sea of drunken people trying to recapture their youth via $9.00 cups of warm beer and frozen margaritas made by a machine.

It was Sebastian Bach.

No, not that one.

THIS one!!

"Crap!" I told Neil. How could they possibly schedule this rock legend to go first? I knew there would be two openers, but in what crazy world should Sebastian Bach, star of television's "Gilmore Girls" (if you've never seen Bach and Lane's band perform "Hollaback Girl" at a little girl's Bat Mitzvah, you have not tasted heaven) as well as a short run on Broadway doing "Rocky Horror," perform before these jokers?

And seriously...DON is not a rock'n'roll name. Don Dokken? Puh-lease.

So, we hurried along, entering the amphitheatre just in time to hear Mr. Bach asking St. Louis politely if they might want to "rock the f*** out" with him. He was wearing yummy brown leather flare pants and his luscious blond hair was as long and layered as I remember. Unfortunately, that lovely scream he's known for isn't as strong, but I suppose once you hit 40, something has to go.
And I'm glad it's not his penchant for wearing tank tops that can be easily ripped off.

The only two songs I knew were "18 & Life" and "I Remember You," but they were fan-TASTIC!

Sebastian, after a good almost hour-long set, left the stage so Dokken could follow. I could give a crap about them, as aforementioned, so we decided to leave our seats for a time (dead center--awesome view) and enjoy the summer evening. We sat up on the lawn, cuddled underneath the gorgeous twilit sky, through the second opener. Dokken kept saying "So far so good?", which I felt was decidedly un-rockerish, like he was checking on us tentatively. His set was about an hour as well, after which we fought our way back to our seats.

And then it was time.

To my surprise and delight, Big John (Bret's bodyguard and backstage-passer-outter from "Rock of Love") made an appearance to announce the band! I hope he gets a lot of tail, because he deserves it. Seriously, would you want to be the protector of an aged rocker trying to convince the world he's not wearing a wig under that hat/bandanna combo?

I will never understand why they always seem to announce C.C. first, because he's the best one. But there he was, first. In some kind of mauve-ish tight jeans, a sleeveless tee, and his axe. (Did you see that? I just said "AXE"! Totally casually, like I say it all the time.) The blond hair was crazy wild, as God intended, and he rocked the shizz out of that stage.

Bret's intro was a little ridiculous--they had him rise up out of the top part of the stage amidst pyrotechnics. I feel like if they're gonna do that, the person coming out had better be super-duper surprise ultra famous or decked out in a LOT of glitter or metal accessories (Gene Simmons, perhaps). But Bret, with his Poison tank top, flare jeans, and ever-present bandanna? Eh. He's a beauty, for sure, but...it wasn't gasp-inducing. At least his cowboy hat was shiny silver.

They started out with some old stuff, "Nothin' But a Good Time" or something. I don't mean to gloss over those first two albums ("Look What the Cat Dragged In" and "Open Up and Say...Ahh"), but I wasn't a hard-core fan until "Flesh and Blood," which to this day remains my absolute favorite Poison record. I find those 80s numbers fun and enjoyable, but I'm not connected with 'em, you know? I don't have specific memories of discovering them, because I already sorta knew them (I mean, who didn't hear "Your Mama Don't Dance" every week on Casey Kasem?), and only later on went back to the older albums because I'd just discovered that I actually liked the band after years of thinking they weren't my style. I suspected that, because the first two albums were so hugely popular compared to "Flesh and Blood," I wouldn't be hearing too much from my favorite this time.

So when Bret started talking about the next number, about riding free on a motorcycle, I hardly dared hope. "Ride the FREAKING Wind???!! NO WAY!!" That song was never very popular, even though it had a presence on KCMQ96.7 and MTV, but it is so my favorite. I was EXCITED!! I shouted every word of that song right along with Bret, bouncing in Neil's arms. I don't know anything that could get me so exhilarated for three minutes straight.

Poison only played for an hour and a half, but did three songs from "Flesh and Blood"--"Something to Believe In" (LORD I wanted Bret to cry, like he does in the video, when he sings "I tried all night not to break down and cry/as the tears rolled down my face" because it was his BEST FRIEND, and he died a lonely man in some Palm Springs hotel room!! But he kept it together, dangit. Nothing gets me going more than a man crying, seriously) and "Unskinny Bop," which I hold special affection for because I began liking Poison from hearing this song (and, alright, Bret's aquamarine eyes and pink pouty lips in the video didn't hurt none). The rest of their numbers were standard--"Every Rose," naturally..."I Want Action" (with full-on 70s porn projected on the screen behind the band)...and, thankfully, no new numbers except one cover from "Poison'd," and we all know how much I adore covers.

Their encore was but one song.

I was a tad disappointed that their portion of the show didn't go on for longer, but these guys are in their 40s...and they tour like every summer.

All in all, it was one of the best nights of my life. We got in some more people-watching as we trekked back out to the car, and I saw another fashion no-no...an older woman with a coral-orangey tube top (I know! I'm not even done yet though), wearing one of those bras with the clear plasticy straps, trying to look as if she weren't wearing one. Does she think people can't see the Shiny, Shiny straps on her shoulders? Does she not know that the top part of her bra clinging on to said straps is poking out the top of the tube?

In other music news...I'm thinking I just need to give in to Gavin DeGraw. He does exactly the kind of music I love, and I dig his voice, and "Chariot" makes me love music all over again. I think I was so reluctant because he did the theme song to "The O.C," which is totally a show I should like, but don't. Him, Nickelback, Daughtry, Fuel, even Hinder (I hate the cheating song, so I can't succumb to them quite as fully)--all masters of restrained guy-rock.