My gorgeous friend K im’d me on Saturday afternoon. This was our conversation:

K: Do you have plans on Tuesday?
Me: Yeah. I’m having dinner with Miss D, then I have a doctor’s appointment, and then I’m having tea with Urmy.
K: Shit.
Me: Why?
K: Well, I have tickets to see Rock of Ages at the Paramount and I wanted to invite you.
Me: Wait. Is that the musical based on the songs of Poison, Whitesnake, and Warrant, just to name a few?
K: Yes.
Me: CANCELING EVERYTHING. DO NOT GIVE THAT TICKET AWAY. I WILL BE YOUR DATE. I HAVE NO OTHER FRIENDS. THEY ARE DROPPED.
(It might be poor manners to cancel on friends/doctors with whom you already have plans in order to make new plans with another friend but y’all. It was hair metal. Recognize. Plus, my dear friends know me well and the minute I said the words “hair” and “metal” they said the words “totally” and “understand.” There also might have been stern admonitions that the actors in the musical were *not* actually from the aforementioned bands, thereby making any attempts to be a groupie misplaced and ill-advised.)
So on Tuesday night, K and I met up for a couple of beers and then set out for the Paramount. After we were given LED lighters we settled into our seats, totally unprepared for the freaking best musical I’ve ever seen in my entire life. K told me after that every time a new guitar riff would blast, I would start fanning my face and grinning because I totally knew what song was coming up. But honestly, can you tell me you wouldn’t do the same if you got to hear “Heaven” AND “Cum on Feel the Noize” in the same hour?
(Since seeing Rock of Ages, the kids and I have been on a hair metal kick at work. Now, if you sing “Unskinny…” they both shout, “BOP BOP BOP BOP!” And just this morning Baby Girl was singing under her breath and so I crawled up behind her to listen, just in time to hear her trill, “She’s my cherry pie! Want some water ten miles high! SWINGIN’!”)
(My job was fun while it lasted.)
I had high expectations for 30, guys. And so far? My expectations have been surpassed. Between hair metal musicals and insane nights out with the girls, dancing to 80s music, musicals with drag queens and tap dancers (totally inspiring me to sign up for the tap dance lessons I’ve been wanting to take for years), and lovely 2nd (3rd) (4th) dates, 30 has been incredible. I’m good at 30. I’m kind of rocking it, if you want to know the truth.
I’m going to continue to float on my cloud of happy, especially into this weekend, which involves quality time with my favorite barista, brunch with Lirpa, dodgeball, and the words “bootie mash-up”, which mean dancing with K, Boz, Betty, and Bowie. Lots of dancing. The kind of dancing where I need to make sure to bring my inhalator because last time I did that much dancing I totally gave myself an asthma attack.
Have a great weekend, y’all. Blast the hair metal, throw on some leather and lace, and cum on, feel the noize.
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