The evening began with Kimmie getting her hair sucked into a fan.

Cramped into a tiny bathroom, humidity approaching sauna levels, Kimmie was attempting to dry her bangs by the breeze of the small fan perched on the closed toilet. Suddenly, the motor coughed to a stop, wherein she called to Cristy for help. Understandably flustered, her companion grabbed the appliance that was currently dangling from our hapless Siren's glossy locks in an attempt to relieve the stress on her scalp when Kimmie commanded, "Unplug it!", so our dismayed Siren complied, allowing Ms. Kimmie the opportunity to untangle her distressed tresses.

Fortunately or not, this was not Kimmie's first disagreement of this kind. She emerged victorious and unruffled. The same cannot be said for her only witness.

What is there to say about Billy Idol? Mr. Rebel Yell, Mr. Dancing With Myself, Mr. Flesh for Fantasy - the CyberPunk himself. One thing for sure, unlike so many other acts from the 80's, no one jeered or ridiculed my enthusiasm for his impending concert. In fact, many expressed jealousy or admiration. Couple that with an audience that ranged in age from pre-teen to forty-something, and what you've got is a true legend in the making; a rock and roll hall of fame display waiting to happen- situated between Jim Morrison's report card and Paul Simonon's (The Clash) 1979 Fender Bass, and right across the aisle from Eddie Van Halen's signature red and white guitar.

Idol exploded across the stage, yowling and growling the crowd favorites, as well tracks from his newest offering Kiss the Skull. Raising the already sweltering temperature of the venue with his charisma, he joked about audience members bringing their kids. However, the small group of ticketholders in front of us, who weren't even born the year Rebel Yell was released, shouted the lyrics just as loudly as those who have followed Idol from his Generation X days. But even if he was right, and a non-believer dwelled in the house, he emerged with a snarl and raised fist, "White Wedding" on his lips - guaranteed.

So yes, he played them all - "Eyes Without A Face", "Sweet Sixteen", "To be a Lover", "Cradle of Love", "Ready, Steady, Go", those already mentioned - you get the idea. Each one was delivered with Steve Stevens' blistering guitar work, and Billy's powerful voice and even more omnipotent stage presence. After three shirt changes and sweat dripping from his elbows, Idol returned for an encore of his well-known covers, including "Hot in the City" and "Mony, Mony". Atop the monitors, legs braced in a domineering V, Idol bared his torso and closed the show with "LA Woman", casting his arms outward, victorious in his Messiah-like stance. (Personally, Billy Idol singing Jim Morrison is about as close to nirvana as you're gonna get!) The crowd howled in reverence.

Returning home early after cruising a couple of local watering holes and finding them lacking in excitement, I was greeted by my smaller hound Hillary, engaged in what I call the "I gotta pee" dance; a mixture of prancing, head-tossing, and general long-legged flailing. Once she was assured of my attention, she tore off downstairs to stand vigil by the door, but reappeared less than 30 seconds later. Much to my dismay, she immediately squatted and began to pee.

"Get up, get up, stop peeing," I commanded in a calm tone as to not spook her.