The food, not the band. Although, the band isn’t too bad. I had a chance to watch a cover band called A Taste of Meatloaf when I was in England. It was at some pseudo American hamburger place for my birthday party, although it was more coincidence than planned. My housemate loved Meatloaf, and my birthday happened to be near a day she was looking forward to since she had tickets to this show. She got totally trashed on wine, her married male friend spent much of the night staring at my rack, and I spent part of the evening whining over how unAmerican the meal really was and part of it marvelling over how large the bruise was on the thigh of the girl in the group from bashing a tambourine over her leg every night for hours.
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Okay, the combined images of meatloaf and a tambourine bruised thigh…ummm…not good. 😉