So here we are, my boss and I, sitting in nosebleed seats at the 1-800-Ask-Gary Amphitheatre (and no, I am not joking about the name), rocking out to Heart. Yes--Heart. Ann and Nancy Wilson and their dudes, kicking ass onstage like it's 1986. Do note, they sound fucking awesome. As my boss said, This is what can be if you resist doing ALL the drugs. The Wilsons are in their late fifties and they still perform a great live show.
And then Def Leppard comes on. The one and only, my favorite 80s metal group, the mighty Def Leppard. They proceed to play what amounts to a greatest hits set, and I am more than ok with this. I am that lady dancing and air-guitaring in front of her seat while my boss pretends she's with someone else. I'm a little surprised by the fact that I apparently know all the words to all of their notable songs. I'm pleased that they sound awesome. And, not for the first time, I am grateful--so grateful--for my ears.
Ears are great. Ears let you hear things like Def Leppard doing an electric-acoustic mash-up of "Bringin' on the Heartbreak" and your lover telling you why you're awesome and the way the air sounds in the early morning during the summer. Ears are fantastically sensitive and are erogenous zones for lots of folks. Ears look cute with shiny things dangling from them. Ears make basset hound puppies even cuter than they already are. I love ears!