I’m going to the Bon Jovi concert tomorrow night at the Verizon Center.
My coworker, who is five years older than me, was fishing to see if I was old enough to remember the songs when they were popular. He told me about rocking out to “Livin’ On a Prayer” in high school.
Now, as a disclaimer, I am terrible with song names and lyrics. When I was in high school, I thought the lyrics to Shanice’s song “I Love Your Smile” were instead “I Am Just One.” How that sounds like the other, I have no idea. My brother heard me sing that one time and laughed and laughed. It’s because I have bad hearing and overcompensate. I had chronic ear infections when I was little, my adenoids taken out, tubes put in my ears — and I used to have a lisp because I couldn’t hear how to say my s’s.
Anyway, when J. and I had this conversation Tuesday afternoon, I was tired. Very very tired. I had told him so. I had woken up in the middle of the night at 3 a.m. feeling crappy and had to take some Excedrin and fumble around in the dark for a heating pad.
To boast my knowledge of Bon Jovi (I really do have his “Cross Road” album), I said: “I used to get pumped up for every soccer game in high school by listening to ‘Bed of Glory.'”
“Um,” he said, “Isn’t it ‘Blaze of Glory?'”
“You must be tired.”