Tuesday, January 16, 2007
That hottie, Chris Botti
Wow, I am really on a roll with this whole blogging thing this start of 2007. Astounding! Equally astounding? The flame war that has taken place here in this little known space of mine. Craziness, I tell you; crazy!

Anywho..onward and upward!

This Friday just past, The Leester and I went to see a concert, which was really a great time. I must be getting old or something because gone are the days of KISS concerts (duh, like I didn't just age myself right there...hello!) and welcome are the evenings of jazz musicians. Ninety percent of people I told didn't have a CLUE who Christ Botti is, so for those people, I give you this. Go have a look-see for yourself. He is really awesome.



Granted, it doesn't hurt that here he is performing with the likes of the mighty STING. Or that his first professional gig was a trumpet solo for the great Frank Sinatra. Or that his band was freakin phenominal. AMAZING. Especially the guitarist, Mark Whitfield (Whom I may have fallen slightly in love with, during his performance. The Hubs doesnt mind though. When I told him I would be leaving him for Mark Whitfield, he simply wished me luck with that. Isn't he kind and giving? *swoon*). And a BADASS Billy Kilson on drums. BAD. ASS.

I told The Leester that I would like to make 2007 the year of attending live musical performances.

So...consider that your musical edumacation for the day, yes?


2 Comments:

Blogger Katya said...

I have been told, by my husband, that we will not be attending any concerts this year, as they are too loud and will "hurt the baby". ::sigh:: There are a few that have already happened in January that I would have really liked to have been a part of. While I know that I can't rush the front in my condition, I'd still like to go and listen. Oh well, 6 more months.

Blogger Attention Whore said...

The HIP THE HIP THE HIP THE HIP were AMMMMMAAAAAZZZZING....I'll stop screaming now. Sorry about the late text...I LOVE GORD...oh my oh my....
If I die of Vanity, promise me, promise me
That if they bury me some place I don't want to be
That you'll dig me up and transport me
Unceremoniously

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