Tuesday, December 30, 2008
On the way back from the theatre, Lenora and I succumbed to the urge to take a picture in Times Square. For a minute we stood in the middle of the sidewalk like bumbling tourists and posed for a picture that came out looking perfectly awful. You can see the huge, glowing, tacky Times Square billboards in the background. The two of us, however, are completely in silhouette.
For me, the best part of the evening was standing in the parking garage by the Kerr, waiting for the car. There were several severely drunk hipsters there that were discussing the benefits of learning Portuguese. My favorite part was when a girl in a cream coat, who was the drunkest of them all, broke away from the crowd, hung on to the wall, and declared loudly in a voice that I suppose was meant to be a whisper: "Yeah, the drugs I got for my condition *mumble blabber drunken slur*!" Drugs for your condition. Your condition. As far as I could tell, one of the symptoms of the aforementioned condition was acting like a huge dumbass in public. When the attendant finally arrived, she started yelling at him in Portuguese. It was a joy to behold.
Well, it was a perfectly marvelous night, I can assure you. On Friday I'll be at The Music Box seeing August: Osage County, and then on the 18th I'll be at Spring Awakening's closing night. Hurrah for non-temperance.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Preeeeesenting, in person, that ten inch bundle of dynamite - Mr. Leonidas S. Snuffletubs! The S stands for Sarah Palin. I named him myself. Anyway, Mr. Snuffletubs sings "The Lonely Goatherd" from The Sound of Music, complete with a key change. He sounds suspiciously like Rebecca Luker, but he gets very offended if someone brings it up. His biggest dream is to play the Emcee in Cabaret. Patti LuPone scares him. He thinks I'm freaking hilarious.
Now, as you may recall, I also asked for a time machine for Christmas. My main objective was to go back in time and see Cabaret, but I also wanted to correct past wrongs and do good deeds and stuff like that. I put it on my list, but John McCain got the last one. (Please, PLEASE tell me you got that...)
So, today something previously thought to be impossible happened: I found a Sondheim work that I don't like. In fact, I pretty much hate it. It's Sunday in the Park With George. Aside from having one of the most obnoxiously long titles in theatre history, it tumbles into a pitfall I thought Stephen Sondheim was immune to: All the songs sound the same. It's very vague and confusing. I've been told that I don't "get it." That makes me feel supremely stupid. I recognize that it's one of those "challenging" musicals, and you've got to analyze it to understand it. I've also been told that it's an acquired taste. Maybe it is, but I won't be analyzing it anytime soon. For now I think I'll stick with Sweeney Todd and Follies.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
So let's look back on the year, shall we. I'm gonna make lots of lists. I love lists.
Things I Learned in 2008:
1. Blogs are fun.
2. Understudies are people, too.
3. Ushers are the unsung heroes of the theatre world.
4. Not everyone appreciates it when you play your piano at three in the morning.
Shows I Decided I Loved in 2008:
1. SIDE SHOW
3. Parade (Thanks for that one, Lenora.)
5. August: Osage County
6. A Streetcar Named Desire
7. Speech and Debate
8. In the Heights
Shows I Decided I Hated in 2008:
5. Miss Saigon
The Best Days of 2008
1. May 18
2. March 20
3. July 19
4. August 13
5. January 5
6. July 17
The Worst Days of 2008:
1. June 19
2. October 23
3. June 15, aka the day Jenna Russell got robbed by Patti LuPone
Shows I Saw in 2008:
1. Speech and Debate (A++)
2. Next to Normal (B+)
3. Spring Awakening (A+)
4. Gypsy (B-)
5. Spring Awakening (A+)
7. In the Heights (A)
8. Gypsy (A)
My Favorite People of 2008:
1. Barack Obama
2. Sarah Palin
3. Stewie Griffin
4. Whoever took the picture of Kristen Stewart that now adorns my sidebar
5. the homeless guy I saw in the subway singing Sweet Molly Malone
That's enough lists for now, don't you think. Well, it's Christmas Eve Eve. Are we all super duper excited? I've been a very good girl all year, so maybe Santa will bring me some new sheet music so I can play something other than Cabaret and Together Wherever We Go. Maybe if the entire country is very good next year Santa will bring us a new economy. But, as Violet Weston tells her daughter in August: Osage County, "I'm sure you'd like to believe that Santy Claus brings you presents on Christmas, but it just ain't so." And as Peter Griffin says, "Merry Christmas to all and to all shut the hell up."
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
On to the reason why I decided to post today. Last night (or rather, this morning), at about midnight, as I was just about to go to bed, (literally, I had the lights off and everything), I heard the sound of shattering glass. I thought someone had broken a window, so I went across the hallway to look. As I was just about to open the door I heard my mother yell, "OH, MY GOD! THE CHRISTMAS TREE FELL OVER!" I scurried down the stairs and to what did my wondering eye did appear? Our very own Christmas tree, laid out on the rug, and shattered glass absolutely everywhere. I had a Peter Griffin moment, running around uselessly and yelling, "Holy crap! Holy crap!" Once the shock set in, I did what anyone would have done. I started laughing hysterically. Nobody else found it funny. I was snapped at, and then I my parents and I fell to picking up our poor, annihilated ornaments. The first one I picked up was, coincidentally, my favorite. It's Scarlett O'Hara in her wedding dress. But here's the thing, folks: Scarlett didn't have a head. I sifted through the shattered Barneys and Baby Jesuses and creepy winking elves until I found her head, still wearing its gauzy veil. Next to it was a severed leg wearing a blue high heel. I recognized it as a piece of my second-favorite ornament: a 1930's Barbie that I've had since I was eight. I searched the battlefield for the rest of Barbie's body, miraculously still intact. I picked up the newly Marie Antoinette-ized Scarlett and the newly crippled Barbie and set them on the kitchen table, and then continued seeing what could be saved. The list of casualties is as follows:
1. Three shattered Rockettes
2. A ballerina with a broken leg and a snapped neck
3. A baseball player missing his feet
4. Scarlett O'Hara, sans head
5. One-legged Barbie
6. Completely decimated star
7. The Lion, Scarecrow, and Tinman with several missing limbs (Dorothy is MIA.)
8. Snow White and The Four Remaining Dwarfs. Poor Dopey never stood a chance.
Not that bad, but now we're living in constant fear of another incident like that, and every little noise has me glancing at the tree. I am considering asking for my presents not to be put under the tree to keep them from getting crushed, but that would be like Liza playing the Palace and not singing New York, New York. I know, right? Hopefully this is not an omen of some kind. Merry freaking Christmas and God help us, every one.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
Well, on the brighter side, I happened to turn on my TV precisely 48 minutes ago and to what did my wondering eye did appear? Speech and Debate's Sarah Steele, aka the most brilliant actress I've ever seen. I know you've never heard of her. Most people haven't. But she's great. Watch the Roxie Wollinsky videos in the sidebar. That's her. I have to say, though, as this episode of Law and Order unfolds (and I don't do Law and Order), it's sucking more and more. Gritty New York cops who are the polar opposites of each other. Wow, we haven't heard that one before. This one's about a kid who got killed via Facebook or something like that. What a wonderful opportunity for me to segue into my aversion to Facebook and Myspace, and the people who use them. To be honest, I find the whole thing incredibly stupid. They're just corporate attempts to further computerize, robotize, and depersonalize the American youth. This is not Nazi Germany, people. Can we at least TRY to maintain our individuality? Seriously, how many pages have people created that say something like "lIvE lAUgh LuV"? Now, who can tell me where that came from? Nobody? It's from Follies, Stephen Sondheim's crowning acheivment. Google it. I'm not making this stuff up. And how many times have you said or heard someone say, "You know what? I'm removing him from my top." or "I've known her for two days and she put me in her top!" Really, folks? Are we all freaking serious here? Or are we all just twelve year olds? You can all hear yourselves, right? Whatever happened to human interaction? Whatever happened to actually confronting someone you're angry with and talking it out, rather than just deleting them from your Top 8? Whatever happened to class? Seriously, people. There is a REASON I have a blog, not a Myspace or a Facebook account. There is a REASON I don't post every single day. I've seen Cabaret: "What good is sitting alone in your room? Come hear the music play." It's my personal motto, right up there with, "Buon appetit, douchebag."
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Go ahead and watch it. I'll wait. Done? Fantabulous. I told you it was bizarre. What, did you not believe me? My personal favorite part is when Robert Pattison says, "I'm a tool." Good, so you admit it. He's also rather drunkish, isn't he? Poor chap. And Kristen Stewart. Oh, my. My second favorite part is where she runs her hand through her hair and slurs, "Get the f*ck to the theatre and see Twilight." Um, okay. I'll get right on it. No, really, I will.
Oh, how I look forward to the day when they make Breaking Dawn. The book alone is uncomfortable to read. We really don't need to read all the details of vampire birth, do we? Apparently we do. I cannot WAIT to see how that translates on to the screen. Especially with two young actors as impeccably talented as Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson. Oh, this is gonna be so much fun. Seriously, where can I preorder my tickets? Personally, I am not some sick sadomasochist who would want to be in a scene like that, but apparently KStew and RPattz are more than willing. After all, it's like the incredibly creepy Emcee from Cabaret says, "Money makes da vorld go 'round."
I can't believe that there are people who are actually going for all this crap. Take these guys, for example. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A105u7sDCLE Here we have four GROWN MEN practically going into cardiac arrest over the stupid trailer. Sure, it's freaking hilarious, but the guy in the lower right hand corner looks like he's about to eat his own hand. And then he actually gets so excited that he throws up. I thought only dogs did that, but whatever. All four of these guys claim to be straight. If the are, then the next generation is screwed beyond belief. So when your children's gene pools suck, blame Twilight. Just for the record, I find this video to be almost as funny as Stewie Griffin's reaction to Two Girls One Cup. ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBl7zJYW6Cg) That is Family Guy GOLD!
One last thing before I go: Apparently, I have 36 viruses on my laptop. Wonderful, right? So if you happen to read a post that says something like " i luv sarah palin n kristen stewart hsm 3 was the best movie everrr omg lol i hate family guy i am a republican," that's the virus talking, not me.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Her dog scares me.
The producers sure aren't gonna be happy. Maybe they'll replace her and I'll get my Christmas wish after all!! I don't think so, though. If Equus didn't kill Harry Potter, this probably won't kill Twilight. Them fancy shmancy Hollywood fellers'll get her out of it. They'll say it's herbal tobacco or something like that. I, however, remain unconvinced. Oh, KStew. You and your drugs.
Third: It would just be ginger peachy if they could remake Twilight. It would be even more ginger peachy if they could cast a new Bella that actually showed some emotion. Let's get one thing straight here, folks: I am no Twilight fan. I don't care very much either way. I can take or leave the books that most teenagers are reading as if the pages are laced with crack. I care even less about the movie. It just bothers me because it enhances the stereotype that Kristen Stewart is talented. If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna have a Momma Rose moment. Stand back. "You haven't any talent! Talent for the deaf, dumb, and blind, maybe! Not an ounce of it!" So there.
Fourth: I cannot tell you all how very much I would love it if Sarah Palin got her own talk show. I promise I would tune in every night. She could be like a Moose Whisperer. I think she would be pretty good at that, don't you? My next door neighbor, "Maisie" (heh heh. Maisie.) shares my sentiments. She too is fascinated with Sarah Palin. It's like when you drive past a car accident: It's a horrible, horrible, twisted wreck, and yet you can't look away. In fact, I promised Maisie that I would quote her on my blog. It was she who said, "I love Sarah Palin. I like become her at night." Truer words have never been spoken, friends.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
So we scuttled over to the St. James Theatre, where we were informed that Patti LuPone would, in fact, be going on today. Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it. As we settled into our wonderful aisle seats, I prepared myself to sit through another three hours of her snarling voice and oka acting. Since I had seen the show before, I knew that Patti first made her entrance by running down the right aisle. It so happened that we were now sitting next to this very aisle. Lenora and I, being the freaks that we are, obsessively watched the back door, waiting for Patti to make her secretive entrance. Confession: When she finally did, my heart started hammering. I am not and probably never will be a LuPone fan. But she's still a legend, and being in her presence was enough to make me freak out. But, let me tell ya, Patti wasn't looking too happy. I dared to glance at her twice, and she was scowling at the stage. I was afraid to look at her after that, for fear that if we made eye contact it would cause her to attack me with a hatchet. This is the woman who told the orchestra to shut up as she was accepting her second Tony. Just imagine what she would do to and unsuspecting, innocent little girl like me.
When she finally did stream down the aisle yelling, "Sing out, Louise!" I knew right away that this time was going to be different from the first time I had sat through Gypsy. I wasn't too fond of the show back in July. But it was different this time. It had evolved. It had gotten better. All that time ago, when I was such a wee inexperience theatre goer (remember, it's Exaggerate Outrageously Day), I thought that LuPone's performance was underdeveloped and amateurish, because it was exactly how any person off the street would behave. I didn't realize how incredibly hard it is to get that good. So I'm not denying that she has the acting chops. HOWEVER, I still can call her on her snarling dog voice. And I'm sticking by my theory that the real one to watch is Laura Benanti, who plays Louise, "the stripper." The one that stole the whole show was Marilyn Caskey, who played Electra, the stripper who's had too much electroshock therapy.
We hung around after the show. When one of the ushers (and, may I point out, the St. James has rather snippy ushers. If I want to unwrap my Twizzlers during Some People I'll do it, damn it!) came up to us to kick us out, I grew indignant and thundered, "Don't you know who I AM?" The poor usher shrank back in shame and said, "Oh, my God! You're the Incendiary Goat! Oh, God, I'm sorry! How could I not have recognized you?" Yeah, that's right, punk. Well, due to my celebrit-ay connections, and the fact that Lenora is related to one of the ushers, we were able to talk our way backstage. We went through several narrow, freezing hallways, past a few setpieces, and finally stood center stage. Trust me, it's not that great to see what Patti LuPone sees every night. The theatre isn't that big. I was tempted to go all Rose's Turn and scream out, "Here she is, boys! Here she is, world!" or perhaps sing a chorus of Together, Wherever We Go, but I was able to fight the demons and contain myself. You gotta admit, though, it woulda been pretty kickass to tell my grandkids that I performed Rose's Turn on the same stage as the legendary Patti LuPone. Of course, she wasn't actually ON the stage with me at that time, but I would leave that part out.
So we scuttled back through the hallways. We saw Boyd Gaines, who played Herbie. I heard someone yell out, "Bye, Boydie!" I turned around and oh my sweet Jesus it's the actress who plays Mazeppa, the trumpet-blasting stripper. Guess what her name is, guys. Guess. Lenora Nemetz. LENORA Nemetz. I'm not making that up. Lenora Nemetz is my new favorite human being. Best part: We exited through the stage door. There were crowds of people out there, and they all looked up expectantly when we walked out. Hello, darlings! Yes, it's me. No autographs, please. Life's good on the other side of the barricade.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Now, I'm about to pull a Palin and recant a previous statement. That's right, I'm taking back what I said about Twilight. Yes, the movie was cheesy, and spoonfed the info mercilessly, and ripped off every other vampire movie ever made, but...I liked it. Don't get me wrong. This is not Gone With the Wind. We're not winning any Oscars here. KStew and RPattz are not the next Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable. But still, I enjoyed it. It had its moments. I liked how they incorporated the three evil vampires from the beginning, and didn't just throw them in towards the end, like Stephenine Meyer did in the book. A few very good, sweeping shots of the Pacific Northwest. Good special effects. Passable performances from some of the supporting characters. But, (and this is a huge but), there were drawbacks. Lots. One: Absolutely no character development, but the blame for that lies with Stephenie Meyer. Two: Lots of uncomfortably close close-ups of Edward, Bella, and, at one point, Bella's mother. That last one was so close it actually got a few laughs. Three: The movie seemed to assume that absolutely everyone had read the book. Example: Edward doesn't make his first entrance until at least ten minutes in, in order to purpose build tension for the one moment the director knew the audience would be waiting for. You can almost hear the voice saying, "Preeeesenting, in person, that six-foot one bundle of dynamite... EDWARD CULLEN!!" That may fly with the twelve-year-old fangirls who will love this movie even if it's worse than From Justin to Kelly, but it won't fly with me. Four: It was sooooo incredibly smug. You can tell that every single person in that movie knew it was going to be a hit, and they acted that way on the screen. "Grrrr! I'm Kristen Stewart! It doesn't matter that my method of acting is to make weird facial expressions and show no emotion! I don't have to be a good actress! I'm in Twilight and I can do what I want to!" Well, there you have it. They took a semi-good book and made a semi-good movie, complete with a rather violent scene in which Edward pins Bella to her bed. I thought the fangirls were going to die. All in all, I give it three stars out of five. By no means would I go out of my way to see it again, and by no means should you go rushing out to see it. Wait for the DVD. With the millions this movie's already made, you won't have long to wait.
Side note: Tomorrow I will be going back to Gypsy to see Patti LuPone play Patti LuPone. Starting tomorrow at precisely three o'clock, I will sit in the beautiful St. James Theatre and have to answer old ladies' questions such as: "There is intermission?" Yes, there is intermission. "Oh, Patti LuPone doesn't play the stripper?" No, she doesn't play "the stipper." Read your freaking Playbill. Hooooowwwwweeeevvvveerrrrr, word on the street is that Queen Patti isn't feeling too good today. She skipped the matinee. Maybe, just maybe, we'll get to see her understudy? It'll be like Stewie said in one of my favorite Family Guy episodes. "Oh, my God! We get to see Kurt Russel play Jean Valjean! Oh, God, how lucky are we, huh? Oh, curtain UP!"
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
King Sondheim is the all-time greatest, but my current favorites are Kait Kerrigan and Brian Lowdermilk. C'mon, she spells her name as "Kait," not the ultra-played out "Kate." How do you not love them for that fact alone?Well, if that didn't sell ya, might as well hear some of their stuff. (And they are strictly non-musical theatre, for the Broadway-phobes among us.)
Last one: Joe Iconis. He's the new age of the thee-ay-ter, right up there with Kerrigan and Lowdermilk. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5WQIM6sTbt0 "Blue Hair." I love love love this song, almost as much as I hate hate hate Next to Normal. "I'm gonna do what I want to/And I wanna dye my hair blue." Simple, stupid, and ridiculously catchy.
Monday, November 10, 2008
I have decided that this here post will be a testament to the many, many qualms I have with today's society. Heh heh. Don'tcha just love it when I'm all proper and everything? No? Really? Anybody? Nobody... Anyway, it has recently occured to me that absolutely everything that is wrong with the American population can be witnessed on my morning bus. There's the creepy fifty-year-old guy who scowls at everyone, the crackheads who discuss politics and economics and the Vietnam War, the twittering idiots who will remain nameless for now, the lady in the poncho who looks for reasons to yell at people, and our haggered, loyal bus driver. This zany (did I really just use the word 'zany?') cast of characters makes for a very interesting morning commute. They are all as dear to me as the Pakistani guy who sold me my Low-Fat Blueberry Muffin at Dunkin' Donuts yesterday.
Still, I can only deal with them in moderation. I think my personal favorites are the crackheads. There is nothing more entertaining than listening to them debate the state of our economy. It's a damn shame that Crackhead # 1 is gonna lose his illegal apartment due to a lack of funds and have to move back in with his "pill-happy-pain-in-the-ass wife." According to him, she's a crazy freak who has "some crazy-ass crap to deal with." Don't we all, my friend? Don't we all? The best is when they talk politics. Everything political fact I know comes from them. Thanks for that, guys.
Up next on my list of favorites, and giving the crackheads a run for their money, are the twittering idiots. They vary in age, race, and gender, but most of them are white females between the ages of twelve and eighteen. They are more fun to watch than the protestors outside an abortion clinic and more annoying than the four-year-old Midwestern kids at Broadway shows who keep asking, "When is Mary Poppins gonna fly?" When you shut your freaking trap, that's when! I'm digressing, as usual. Let's see if I can drag myself back on topic. Ah, yes. The twittering idiots. Just this morning, as I sat pretending to listen to my iPod, I overheard this conversation between two vapid little darlings: "So I said to him, 'You know what? I don't hafta deal with this.' I'm not texting him back." Don't text him back. That'll show him. What a truly mature response to your problems. No, really. I bow before your superior level of mental maturity. What are you, like eleven? Whatever happened to actual human interaction? The kind where neither party is hiding behind the screen of a laptop/Blackberry/iPhone?
Let's see if I can wrap this up with a general statement toward the sorry state of our national society. Hmmm....Okay. Hold your hats, people. Stephenie Meyer is not the best writer ever. The Jonas Brothers are not going to be legends. Troy and Gabriella are not the most perfect couple in the history of everything. Neither are Edward and Bella. (Rhett and Scarlett, anyone? Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy? ROMEO AND JULIET?!) We are not ALL hateful bigots just because Prop 8 passed. Not all of our nation's problems are the fault of George Bush.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Okay. Sitaution Two. See that girl on the left? That's Emily Kinney, one of Spring Awakening's new chorus girls. Yes, I know in this picture she kinda has the facial expression of a serial killer right before they bring out the bloody cleaver, but I promise she's not that scary looking in real life. I met her once at a flea market in the city. I bought a prop letter from the show. Our awkward little exchange went something like this.
Me: *smiles nervously, pays for letter*
Her: "Oh, hi! Do you want me to sign that?!"
Me: "Um, okay...I guess-"
Her: "Great! It's no problem!" *snatches letter, scribbles her name*
Her: "There ya go! Signed by Emily Kinney!" *holds out letter*
*awkward silence while I wait for her to realize that it would be very much
appreciated if she could be ever so kind as to ask the two leads to sign it, too*
Her: "Oh! Oh, God, did you want the others to sign it, too?"
Me: "Um, well, if it's not too much trouble..."
Her: "No, it's fine! Hold on a sec!"
But that's beside the point. See, the thing is that Miss Emily Kinney also has a blog, and I occasionally pop in to read it. I like to think that I'm a tad funnier than she is, but that too is beside the point. So this morning I was bored, and I decided to see if she'd updated in the three months since I'd bothered to check her blog. And she HAD! Well, as you may know if you pay attention, I was an adorable little bumbly bee for Halloween this year. So as I waded through her posts, I came upon one about her Halloween. And guess what she was: A bumbly bee! What a freaking coincidence. She posted a picture, but I don't think she would appreciate it if I posted it here, since I don't, you know, actually know her. I can, however, assure you that the costume looked better on me.
So there you have it. We're living in a world that is so incredibly screwed that second-graders are forced to watch shows in which puppets drown, fall down the stairs, and get run over by tractors and I end up with the same Halloween costume as a semi-talented chorus girl. I'd like to write more, but the DVD is almost up to the part where Liza dons her purple dress and signs Cabaret, so for now I bid you all adieu.
Yeah, it's a freaking huge picture, but I want you all to notice the details. Yes, that is, in fact, Robert Pattinson. Yes, the girl that is clinging to him like a drunken little monkey is, in fact, Kristen Stewart. If you don't know (and lucky you), they are the stars of the Twilight movie, and, trust me, they're not the most talented things. I cannot tell you how much this picture makes me laugh. (However, it's like a kind of evil, crazed laugh, like the kind you hear from Mrs. Lovett right before she bakes you into a meat pie.) They are, obviously, under the influence of some kind of illegal substance. I'd say coke, though the lab results haven't come back yet. Oh, dear. KStew looks like she belongs in some bar in South Jersey wearing a blonde wig and singing a slurred reprise of Let Me Entertain You, then whining to the bar tender about her stage mother and eighty-four year old stepfather with a drinking problem. And RPattz. Oh, my poor, bewildered RPattz. He looks quite like one of the war-weary crackheads who used to discuss politics on my morning bus.
Well, I must say that of all the crappy posts I've penned so far, this one is by far my favorite. I haven't had this much fun since Rent closed. I hope you guys enjoyed this one. I'm sure it was filled with lots of eye rolling, maybe a few tiny laughs, and many, many, many moments of, "What the hell is she talking about?"
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
You may recognize the Stepford Robot pictured above as Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska. If you don't then you're a freaking idiot. But that's beside the point. Sadly, we Americans will no longer be able to make jokes about her political inexperience, annoying little accent, or all-around stupidity. I know, it's a great loss. But we all have sacrifices to make for our country, don't we? Fare thee well, Governor Palin. Your glasses and behive will not be missed, but the jokes they incited will be. Hope all goes well with London. See? See what I did there? See how clever I am? The joke there is that her daughter's name is Bristol, which is a city in England, and I like totally knew that, but instead of calling her Bristol I called her London, which, coincidentally, is another city in England! Get it? Wasn't that clever? Jeez. My superior comedic powers are lost on all of you, aren't they?
Oh, but there is one person who deserves his own personal paragraph here. You know him! There's a 70% chance you don't love him! Here he is, boys! Here he is, world!
G.W. Bush is arguably the nation's worst president. He has the lowest approval rating of all time. There are some people who will never forgive him for his misdeeds, like the crazy girl who made a Youtube video about how it was all his fault that twelve...no, wait, seven Broadway shows were closing. Yup, that was totally his fault. He woke up one morning and said, "You know what? There's an area of the country that I haven't messed up enough yet! I'm gonna set out to destroy BROADWAY and provoke some crazy girl into making a Youtube video!" By golly, that's just what he done.
Oh, well. Obama has been elected. Sarah Palin can go back to chillin' with the caribou. Rent is dead and gone. That's enough for me.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
I went to a costume party Friday night. That was rather interesting. There's a basic protocol for that sort of thing: If you see someone you know, you absolutely have to hug them hello and good-bye even if you secretly hate them. You must also compliment their costume, and you DO NOT EVER, EVER, EVER ask them, "But what ARE you?!" Not if you want a spot in their will. Even though it is an insult and a threat to your own personal morality, it is in your best interest to lie when asked if you like someone's costume. "No, you do not look like a slut in your Playboy Bunny costume. No, I swear. It's totally fine. You look cute." Come on, people. Are we really that far gone that we believe such outrageous lies?! I guess we are, since there are people who are actually going to vote for McCain.
Revolutionary that I am, I took the liberty of not dancing at the aforementioned costume party. I don't dance. I just don't. Never have, never will. I hate dancing more than I hate Rent, which you give you an idea of just how very much I loathe dancing. I didn't not rotate my hips one single time at this party, I promise you. I was as stiff as Sarah Palin's beauty queen grin. I think maybe I should change my name to the Immobile Goat. But I digress. Let's backtrack a little. As soon as I walked through the door to this groovy shindig, I certain friend who shall remain nameless practically dove on me and announced, "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE HOT!!" Um, thanks. I guess I am. Thanks for noticing. Two hours later, as I was standing in a crush of people and not even swaying my hips, said friend once again bounded up to me and said, "Don't waste the hotness, shake your ass!" No, that's really okay. I'll just stay right here and watch these Gossip Girl wannabes grind on eachother. I'm fine, I promise. I think maybe I'll keep the hotness to myself for tonight.
And now on to the reason why I actually came here to blog tonight. I can hardly bare to type these words, but I actually saw HSM 3 tonight. While waiting on line amongst ten thousand little girls quickly being roped into the traps of corporate America, I heard someone scream, "HE'S GOT A GUN!" Indeed there was someone a few feet infront of me that was exercising his right to bear arms. My heart started pounding, but our loyal police force was there in seconds to cart this young hooligan away. At that point, wasn't aware of the fact that I would have been better off if he had shot me.
So I soldiered on bravely into the theatre and plunked down in my seat, a tad bewildered as to what I was actually doing there. If there was any justice in the world a meteorite would have hit the building and killed us all in a blinding blaze of glory, but there is no such miracle to speak of. Instead, I sat there and endured two unending hours of my personal circle of hell. It was the longest two hours of my life. And I sat through Legally Blonde, folks. I cannot even begin to list my grievances with this film. Oh wait, yes I can:
1. The whole thing was basically a series of shots of Zac Efron's sweaty face and body, which provoked the animatronic little girls in the theatre to start squealing like pigs. Oh, please. Over the course of the movie, Sir Efron removed an article of clothing exactly four times, and those little darlings just ate it up. (I still haven't forgotten their gasps and shrieks of extreme terror when their Lord and Savior said, "Kiss my ass" in the sad big-screen adaptation of Hairspray. Oh, how I hate that movie. Really, people, was there any real reason for John Travolta to look and sound like he swallowed Carol Channing?)
2. That sweet little tart Gabriella wore either a skirt or dress for approximately 97% of the movie. Whenever the characters came home (and may I point out that everyone in this movie had really nice houses, how convenient), their mother would be in the kitchen, dutifully preparing a meal for her husband and male children. Thank-you, Disney, for setting the American feminist movement back fifty years.
3. I have to point out that the most painful part of the movie was Zac's big angry eleven o'clock number entitled "Scream." Funny, that's what I wanted to do throughout the whole movie, but never more than during this number. I think they were aiming for a sort of no holds barred-screw the world-I'm running things now kinda thing. What they got was a series of shots of Efron running screaming through the halls of East High, including a particular gem where he's climbing all over the production equipment, briefly evoking memories of the stripper scene from Rent. It's this year's Bet On It, and we all know how that ended up.
That's all I dare say right now, lest the billion screaming HSM fans come to give me what I apparently deserve. I don't know. Maybe I just don't "get it." I don't know about you, but I'd take the story of rape, suicide, and abortion that is my poor, fated Spring Awakening over this corporate drivel any day. But that's just me. Oh, well. Until next time, friends. In the meantime, I'll be sitting here waiting for HSM 4: Ryan finally admits he's gay.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Okay, so the shock is starting to wear off. Confession: I'm crying. Judge me all you want. Just don't come crying to me when High School Musical 3 bitterly disappoints you becoz Troy and Gabriella totez only kissed lyke twice omg omg omg lol. You folks can't imagine the magic that was tied in with this show. I mean, look at this! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wS7q1T36t6w I was there that night. Hear all the screams? One of them is mine. That song got a five-minute standing ovation, and stands alone as the single greatest theatrical experience of my life. How soul-crushingly ironic will it be if my posting it here will cause it to get deleted.
I honestly don't know what to think right now. Joke's over, guys, and it sure as hell ain't funny. I guess I'll just sit here and wait for Ashton to come running out with the camera crew.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Reason #2 why I haz a angree: That dumb-ass McCain and his adorable little marionette Sarah Palin. Everytime either of them uses the word "maverick", "drill", or "troops" I die a little inside. I have tried very hard to discern who's stupider, and I've come to the conclusion that it's Palin. If the right-wing freakos get elected and Old Man McSame puts her in charge of energy, well, to quote a very wise friend, "Say good-bye to Alaska." Yeah, it's true that nobody lives there, but the moose are just screwed. Poor chaps.
Reason # 3 why I haz a angree: Lifetime. Does anyone who's not a very lonely forty-year-old woman watch this channel? If you've never endured this abomination of a channel, let me ruin it for you: Someone gets raped in every single movie. There is always a dominating male character. The aforementioned dominating man will, inevitably, be killed by the victimized woman to avenge her rape/kidnapping/spousal abuse. At night. In the rain. In an environment that is mysterioulsy devoid of all other human beings.
Reason #4 why I haz a angree: The literary state of our nation is pitiful. Let's have a show of hands. Who out there has read a book in the last five years that was not written by Stephenie Meyer, J.K. Rowling, Dan Brown, Danielle Steel, or Mitch Albom? In the last five years, who's read a classic without being forced to do so? Huh. That's what I thought. Okay, folks. Put down the Tiger Beat and go out and read Gone With the Wind. We will all be better for it.
Hopefully the next time I drop in here I will not haz a angree.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Before I wrap this up, I feel compelled to point out that tonight marks the closing of Legally Blonde on Broadway. OMG you guys, I totez didn't see that coming. I, for one, am not at all sorry to see it go. I am also not sorry that this means Laura Bell Bundy, everyone's favorite little homewrecker, is out of a job. So Legally Blonde is soon to be gone. Ding dong, the witch is dead, though I suppose that the witch won't truly be dead until Wicked breathes its last sugar-coated breath. Unfortunately, I doubt any of us here will live to see that day.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
So there. For those of you who had previously never heard of an LOLCat, you just don't know what you're missing. Here, I'll fix it: http://www.icanhascheezburger.com/ There. All better. Nothin' like a bunch of gramatically incorrect felines to turn that frown upside down.
Now that that's covered, I just don't know what else I can think of to entertain you all! Oh, that reminds me. It has come to my attention that my blog is read by approximately than .00000000000000000001% of the world population. WOWEE! I never expected to get that many readers so shockingly soon! Gee, I didn't prepare a speech or anything! This is just so unexpected! You guys all see where I'm going with this? Or should I say, "The ten of you who read this blog all see where I'm going with this?"
Well, let's see. I've already talked about Broadway enough for one week, the fact that I run on two hours of sleep, my severe allergy towards Sarah Palin, my favorite Youtube videos (my apologies if any of you still need morphine to dull the pain), and my deep dark hatred of Rent. Oh, wait, I know!! I have to tell you guys about the most brilliant show ever!!!
Behold! The Griffin family. You may also see it spelled Griffen, but the people who spell it that way are wrong. It is Griffin. My greatest regret in life is that I am not one of them. They are, in my opinion, the greatest family in the history of everything. Who doesn't wish that they had a talking dog and a sadistic baby running around the house? I don't care if you think it is stupid, Family Guy is a fantabulous show. You may argue, "But I don't get it!" That's just the point. You're not supposed to get it. There is nothing to "get." It is funny. Accept it. In the words of the pill-popping mother from August: Osage County, "The world is round. Get over it."
Monday, October 13, 2008
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7esLjR_O3SI Here's a clip of their Tony performance, the night they were robbed by the piece of corporate crap that is The Lion King. I still say that the Tony that year belonged to SIDE SHOW, but this comes in as a close second. Listen to the lyrics. "Beggar and millionaire/everyone everywhere/moving to the Ragtime." That is pure genius! You can't top that, unless your name is Stephen Sondheim.
Hmm, let's see what other gems I can dredge up for you to sample....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFVWA6dNMHk "Our Children", one of the best songs in the show, hold the cheesy, gold-tinted video of two young whippersnappers frolicking in the sand.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBQNed6Zdmk "New Music." Yet another example of brilliant lyrics. "Just like that tune/simple and clear/I've come to hear/new music." Not as good as the lyrics in the first video, but still pretty damn good.
Just a warning if you watched the video: You have willingly subjected yourself to one of the catchiest tunes in the history of catchy tunes. You are now doomed to spend the next three weeks walking around humming "da da da da da Ragtime." Perhaps I should have warned you beforehand.