Friday, July 31, 2009
I'm not even excited. I would say I don't want to go, but the ugly truth is...I do. God, what level of hell is saving a spot for me? I'd show you my favorite Broadway secret for this week, but, like everything else about today, they sucked.
My current pair is gonna be hard to part with. Because of them I've made it through some wonderful times without bumping into anything or mistaking anybody for someone else. My lovely specs helped me see:
Next to Normal
In the Heights
In the Heights
August: Osage County
Guys and Dolls
Next to Normal
August: Osage County
I watched Obama get elected and inaugurated through these glasses. I went to Ocean City and Disney. I had two birthday parties. A good long life for a pair of spectacles, I'd say.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Last issue: Through a strange twist of events, I came into contact with a gallstone the size of a golf ball this afternoon. I understand that if you don't know the back story I'm coming off as completely bonkers, but perhaps you folks are better off not knowing that part. And guess what. It was the most repulsive thing I had ever seen in my life. I want my eyeballs sucked out and my brain dosed with acid now. I'm not even kidding. Following my usual vindictive outlook, my original plan was to share a picture with you fine people, but upon looking up "gallstones" on Google images, I decided I actually don't hate you guys all that much. Look the little bastards up if you dare. But don't say I made you do it.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Little Women. Saw it five times, and I still love it. It's the reason I'm a theatre fan, even though everything Sutton Foster has done since has been a a tremendous disappointment to me. It's hardly my place to say, but I wish she hadn't taken Princess Fiona. It would have saved me the trouble of sitting through Shrek.
And, of course, it's not a good week on Broadwaysecrets without the token outrageous, intrusive, creepy, possibly but probably not true secret! I see it now. The "Kacie Sheik is a lesbian" secrets are gonna become more numerous than the "Alice Ripley is on crack" and "Kerry Ellis is overrated" ones combined. God, Broadwaysecrets is like a freaking snake pit. The queens and fangirls will rip your guts out.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
I got my nails done today for the trip. I chose to paint them purple, inciting several stares and giggles from the trophy wives and ladies who lunch (from the looks of them, they lunched a lot) that populated the salon. It was a modified Sally Bowles moment. "For instance, if I should paint my fingernails purple, and it just so happens I do paint them purple, well, if anyone should ask me why I say, 'I think it's pretty.'" The French-manicured lassies that stared at me as I walked out the door can suck it.
So that's about all I have to say for now. Can someone please watch the Hair tribe on Conan tomorrow night for me? If Caissie Levy gets shrieky, Allison Case acts with her hands, or they do something other than Aquarius/Let the Sun Shine In, I demand to be notified immediately.
I think that about covers it. Well, I just don't know how to bid you adieu. There are so many ways, and I intended on ditching you all Broadway-style. Except I couldn't pick just one. So why don't we use ALL OF THEM!!
"So anyway, I'm leaving." - Next to Normal
"Good-byeeeeeeeeee to blueberry pie." - Gypsy
"Good-bye, we will miss you." - SIDE SHOW
"So long, farewell, auf wiederhosen, goodnight." - The Sound of Music
"Guess I'm leaving. I'm gone." (I said I didn't like Rent. I didn't say I'm not familiar with it.)
Saturday, July 11, 2009
But now that that's all out of the way, I give you The Broadway.com Audience Awards! Hooray.
http://www.broadway.com/broadway_information_html/5020821 I love this wonderful video. And, of course, as with all other things, I have several comments. Sorry. I'm a nitpicker by nature. So maybe I'll just list my comments and concerns in bullet form. Ready? Saddle up, folks, and awaaaaaay we go.
-I find it rather alarming that you can hear a small child screaming in terror during Patrick Wilson's segment.
-Perhaps Sutton Foster should have moved the bra hanging on the back wall before she accepted the award.
-Daniel Radcliffe's eyebrows are really bothering me.
-Alice Ripley's glasses make her look like she's auditioning for The Marvelous Wonderettes.
-Jane Fonda seems none too excited to be getting the award.
-I realize now that I've never really heard Karen Olivo's actual speaking voice. I've also got a newfound respect for her, since a few nights ago I had a dream that she was sitting on my living room floor making a scrapbook. It was bizarre.
-Talk a little faster, Will Swenson. Personally, I like the Vengeful Acceptance Speech. My favorite part of the entire video is "Suck on that, Colby!"
-Aww, Dolly Parton seems really honored that she won. I'm happy for her, and I don't even like Get Out and Stay out that much. I do a good Stephanie J. Block impression, though. "GEEEEEET OUT AND UHSHTAAAAAAAAY OUT!'
-Tutus, Billy Elliot folk? Really?
And that's about all I have to say about that.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Well, you may be asking yourselves, "Gee, I wonder how Facebook is going for her." You're probably not, but you may be. So I'll tell you. It's pretty boring. I have 63 friends. I only actually like about 35 of them. Alice Ripley and Allison Case were both gracious enough to accept my friend requests, but so far I haven't said a single cyber-word to either of them. I don't plan on it, either. Guess I'm not very friendly. Or maybe I'm just not a stalker. Either way, I'm not having that much fun in the screeching hell of pedophiles and teenage girls that is Facebook.
So...I'm pretty much even boring myself. How long has it been since these posts actually ceased to be funny? How long has it been since I've actually attempted to make them funny? Most of the stuff I say, not just here but out in the real world, sounds funnier in my head. Okay, friends. I'm gonna make an honest-to-God attempt to show you folks something worth laughing about. Fail. Might as well pack it in and join the ranks of the chronically unfunny. Move over, Regis.
The main reason I came here was to chat about this video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOD0pe75JTc You're not gonna like it all that much. I however, find it so perfectly marvelous that watching it fills me up with joy until I am nearly overflowing. Coming from me and my not-so-sunny disposition, that's a big deal. Thanks to this video and Caissie Levy's random comment about porkchops (in a BRITISH ACCENT, no less), I will never look at another porkchop without thinking, "I don't sing about pawkchups. They're nut koshah." It's kinda like how Next to Normal ruined the whole Costco experience for me. I simply CANNOT set foot in Costco without revving my foot and careening down the aisles on a shopping cart. I'm so immature it's not even funny. But really. I think my life's aspiration is to end up lying on the floor unconscious in Costco, surrounded by boxes and curious passerby. Not really, though. God, don't you people pay attention? I've already told you that my real life's aspiration is to go see Hair and then go lie in the grass in Bryant Park for the rest of forever.
Monday, July 6, 2009
"Honestly, honey, it's not that bad," twitters my future mother-in-law nervously, fluttering around me and poking at each singed little curl, attempting to get me to calm down.
"Yes, it IS!" I sob. I hate my hair. Gabe and I fought for months over where to have the wedding, and he finally convinced me to do it in Hawaii, where he grew up. I knew I shouldn't have listened. Right now I should be in my favorite hair salon back east, spinning myself around in the chair and marveling at my perfect updo. Instead, I'm flopped face-down on the hide-a-bed in Gabe's living room, lamenting over the fried mass of curls.
"You look lovely, Alex," Mom assures me. Lie.
"I want it redone. I'm not getting married if my hair looks like this!" I wail.
"Alex, there's nothing we can do-"
"Let Beatrice do it," suggest Annie, who has been sitting in the kitchen, quietly observing my meltdown.
"Who?" I sit up.
"Shut up, Annie," Gabe's mother Alice snaps.
"No, seriously. Let Beatrice do her hair."
"Who?" I persist.
"Mom, it's fine! I'll call Beatrice and she'll do Alex's hair," pushes Annie.
"Will somebody please tell me who Beatrice is?!" I screech, silencing the room.
Alice glares at Annie, looks helplessly at my mother, who shrugs, and finally turns her pitying eyes on me. "She's one of Gabe's old girlfriends. If you want...I mean, she's a hairdresser."
"Fine," I bark. "Call Beatrice. Invite her to the wedding. I don't care. If I don't get my hair redone I'm not getting married."
"Bea's great! You'll love her!" Annie calls as she dials her phone.
"Annie, use your brain," snaps Alice. "The girl doesn't need to know about how 'great' Bea is!"
Megan and Sarah barge down the stairs. Both are calling my name. "Alex, I have a ques-" Sarah stops when she sees my hair. "You look..."
"Don't say it."
"Yeah, but Alex-"
"You wanna talk about what you did to your hair in L.A.?" I challenge.
Sarah shuts her mouth. Two years have not completely erased the memories of Sarah's quick spiral out of control, which included blue hair and a whole lot of Paxil. Now, her hair has been restored to its natural blonde. Her psyche has not made such a perfect recovery. It's like she told me in one of our many late-night conversations- no medicine can change the fact that you're going to die some day.
"One of Gabe's old girlfriends is gonna fix it," I grumble. Sarah raises an eyebrow but doesn't respond.
"So, are you excited?" giggles Megan.
She sits down on the bed. "Oh, come on. Married life is fun! I don't know where I'd be without Steve. And Gabe is just crazy for you, you know. I can tell."
"I'm scared," I admit.
"Jesus, Alex, don't be," sighs Alice. "If I know Gabe, you'll never want another thing for the rest of your life. I've never seen him so happy."
"Beatrice is on her way!" announces Annie, bouncing into the living room. "She said to wash your hair." I wearily pulls myself off the bed and start upstairs, taking orders.
When I come back downstairs, there's a woman with wild blonde hair and the elongated face of a horse sitting on the couch. She smiles at me, baring large front teeth. Neigh.
"Huh. Gabe's done pretty well for himself!" She laughs. Everyone else is silent. "Sit down. Don't worry, Alex. I'll be able to fix it. You can even take a nap if you want!" She laughs again and stands up. She's taller than I am - much taller, and thinner, too. I follow her to the kitchen and perch uneasily in one of the chairs. Annie sits across from me and smiles while Beatrice starts working on my hair. "I didn't know Gabe was getting married," Beatrice comments, slipping pins into my wet hair. "I didn't think he'd ever get married."
"He's just crazy about Alex," Annie responds. There is a note of pride in her voice.
"Are you excited to be a wife?" Beatrice asks.
She giggles. To Annie she says, "Where's the groom? He's not too busy to come say hello to me, is he?"
Annie shifts uncomfortably and looks at me for an answer. I cast my eyes down at the table. "Well, he really isn't s'posed to see Alex until-"
"That's an outdated notion. Annie, go tell your brother that I'm here and I'm not taking no for an answer! Don't get jealous, Alex. I'll be good." She laughs once again and Annie reluctantly goes to the bottom of the stairs and calls for Gabe.
He descends, wearing boxers and a t-shirt. My heart skips a beat. Ten hours to go. He smiles at me. "Alex, you're gonna be perfect. Not that you haven't always-" He stops.
"What, no hug for me?" Beatrice pushes.
"What are you doing here, Bea? I thought you were in Miami," he cries, surprised.
"Miami? God, no. Are you gonna hug me or not?" she laughs. He rushes to embrace her. She kisses him square on the mouth. Annie stiffens. I grip the edge of the table. Gabe pulls back, looking down at me.
"Bea," he mumbles.
Beatrice resumes curling my hair. "Oh, you're such a prude, Gabe. Go upstairs before we give poor Alex a heart attack." Gabe shuffles off, stunned. Annie follows him up the stairs, clearly grateful to be free of the scene.
Beatrice laughs to herself. "You're a lucky girl, Alex. I tell you, I always thought I'd be the one to marry Gabe. He just broke my heart. But that was a long time ago. Ten years, almost. You know how we heal. And I'm happy for you. I swear to God. When Annie called me, I said, 'Oh, my God, well, I don't think I've ever been so happy in my entire life!' Oh, I want a wedding so bad. Mine's not for another six months. Did you know I was getting married? Well, I am. But you're gonna look so beautiful tonight. I'm so jealous of you. Really. Sooooooooo jealous."
I nod and shut my eyes. I could have figured that out by now.
Wow. I forced a lot on you there. Sorry, guys. That was almost like literary rape. Props to you if you actually read all of that.