You already know about Metal Skool's Monday Night Hollywood residency, but even Kip Winger would be embarrassed by the dunderhead posers and pseudo-stripper socialites lined up on Sunset for a taste of the band's Aquanetted glory. To avoid those schticky hipsters, ditch the Strip and head Palm Springs-ward to the towering heights of Casino Morongo. Sprawling in the desert alongside the 10, the Morongo's a mixed monument to Vegas carousing and, judging by the decor, UCLA. Every Friday the blue-and-gold behemoth echoes with the tempestuous strains of "Sweet Child O' Mine" and the stomp of synchronized scissor kicks at its own Key Club space, which is both more intimate and less crowded than its Hollywood sister shack. Leave work early to get to the party on time, and you'll be rocking alongside spectacularly old-school, desert-rat metal fans. Their contagious, irony-free enthusiasm will liberate your closeted appreciation of Eddie Van Halen's smiley "Jump" keyboard solo, even as you're forced to jump aside to avoid their whipping, frosted mullets. For the gambler, the recently remodeled Casino boasts Vegas-style craps tables plus a brand-new full-service poker room that gets overrun by leather-and-fishnet after the Skool's final encore. So book a room, drop a C-note rolling dice, and get rejected by a sand-blasted, frizzy-haired hottie. Instead of driving home drunk, you'll wake up basking in the knowledge that, though he's slowly mopping vomit in a small-town McDonald's, Kip Winger is very, very proud of you.
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