Well, when I lived in England, I had the chance to see Heart at Wembley (Arena, not Stadium, as they weren’t that popular in 1988, or maybe a soccer game took precedence. whatever.) and they started the guitar riff for Barracuda (I can do it in my head, just not on paper/monitor, but you know of what I speak) and I get up, pull out my “guitar” and start enjoying the snot out of that song. I feel a tap on my shoulder, or maybe it was a gentle nudge, from the gentleman behind me (aren’t they all?). He asked me to sit down, so others could enjoy the show. I looked around and, you guessed it, I was one of a handful of people rocking out. Everyone else was sitting on their hands.

I was shocked, but I didn’t sit down until they started playing some ballad of theirs. Looks. Kill. But hey, I had a great time.

Then your sister would walk into your room and say why you in your bed listening to your ghettoblaster for six hours?

CHEERUPNATION rawks!!!!