Didn't See That One Coming...

Guess where I was last night, folks. Seriously, guess. I was in the mezzanine of the gorgeous Richard Rodgers Theatre, seeing In the Heights. Thanks to the magic of eBay, I was able to acquire two tickets. Lenora was just pleased as punch to be invited. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement. According to her, she "nearly had a heart attack." Well, far be it from me to deny a white girl her musical about Latinos in Washington Heights. Our seats were perfectly marvelous, if you don't count the fat obnoxious lady who sat next to me and kept insisting that I was in her seat. At least there were no old crows screeching at me for cracking my water bottle this time. The show was fantabulous, as always. I've said it before and shall say it again: Olga Merediz, who plays the grandma, is grossly underrated. Seriously. I was tempted to stand up at the end of her solo, but I didn't want to look like a freak. Instead, I kind of just raised my arms and clapped. I was tempted to whoop, but I didn't. I consider whoops to be kinda uncivilized. This is not ancient Greece. That said, I did actually give a little whoop at the curtain call, but that was a very rare occurrence, I assure you. We intended to rush down to the stage door, but the dense crowds prevented rushing of any kind. We missed Olga Merediz. She is famous for being out the door within five minutes. We did, however, meet Mandy Gonzalez, who plays the eighteen-year-old Nina but in real life is actually about thirty-five and married. We also met Lin-Manuel Miranda, who composed the show and plays the lead. I've met him before, but Lenora hasn't. She started shaking and babbling and fangirling. For a minute I was scared that she was going to pass out. We got through that, though. A half hour later we retreated from the very crowded stage door and made our way back through Times Square. As we were passing by Shubert Alley, we heard shrieks. I made the mistake of saying, "Oh, Daniel Radcliff must be coming out of Equus." Two seconds later, Lenora was dashing through Shubert Alley. I thought fast. Equus. At the Broadhurst. "Right turn!" I yelled out, and then proceeded to chase her through Shubert Alley. Some of you may not be acquainted with the vicious wind that rips through the Alley all year round. And this was December in New York. And I was wearing heels. It's a miracle I made it through, but I did. Alas, once we got to the Broadhurst, some lingering fangirls told us that Mr. Radcliffe had left not ten minutes ago. That was probably for the best, since Lenora probably would have died on the spot if she met Daniel Radcliffe. Explaining that one to her parents would have been fun. That would be a good way to go, though. As for me, I made my mind up back in Chelsea. When I go, I'm goin' like Elsie. (For the record, I mean Elsie, Sally's briefly-mention best friend in Cabaret. Not the cow from Rent.)

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.

Christmas Wishes - The Aftermath

Welcome back, suckers. Despite the fact that I went 27 hours without sleep, almost ate a piece of sausage bread that had a toothpick in it, and got blueberries thrown in my face by a two year old, I had a perfectly marvelous Christmas. I got my August: Osage County tickets. Front row center. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. It's gonna be massively intense to be up that close. The plate breaking scene should be fun. In addition to that, I also got:

Four DVDs

Kickass heels that I am going to wear whenever I possibly can

Binder for my massive collection of Playbills

In the Heights sheet music

A hairdryer that could probably blow my eyes out of my head

And, my very favorite peresent, aside from the A: OC tickets..... Here he is, boys! Here he is, world!

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.

You're Kidding Me, Right?

I have been up all. Freaking. Night. It's now six in the morning, and apparently I'm up for the day. Merry freaking Christmas. This is actually the first time I've ever stayed up all night, and trust me, it's not fun. I guess maybe it's fun when you're trying, but it's not that great when you're lying there with a pillow over your face, praying for even a half hour of sleep. I tried everything. I put my iPod on repeat and listened to Don't Tell Mama for about an hour and a half. I now officially hate that song. I prayed the Rosary. Somewhere around four, I watched Little Manhattan. I got bored of that by four thirty, and started reading The Nanny Diaries. At five, I went downstairs and half-heartedly pawed through my presents. They all look perfectly marvelous, but none of them look or feel like tickets to August: Osage County, and that is slightly disappointing. I tried to sleep on the couch. At five thirty, I went back upstairs and lay there crying, craving sleep like Sally Bowles craves opium-filled cigarettes and destructive relationships. I gave up at six, at which time I got up, put up my hair, and sat on the bed with my laptop, which is where I am now. In a half hour or so, the rabid little children of the world will rush for their presents, and, if I haven't passed out by then, I will join them. Already I feel a monster headache setting in, so I am headed downstairs for an Advil and the cream puffs I put in the freezer last night. (And frozen cream puffs are freaking delicious.) I hope you all slept better than I did. Merry Christmas to all and to all shut the hell up.

The Year in Review

Welcome back, suckers. So, 2008 is drawing to a close. I never really understood why people make such a big deal out of New Year's Eve. So you lived through another year. It takes a special kind of person to do that. Drawing up some more Cabaret wisdom for you all: "It'll all go on if we're here or not, so who cares? So what?" Of course, that line is sung by one of the bitterest characters in musical theatre history, Fraulein Scheneider. (Notice how I said MUSICAL theatre. As far as bitter characters in straight plays go, Violet Weston makes Fraulein Schneider look like Dainty June.)


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
2. Cabaret
3. Parade (Thanks for that one, Lenora.)
4. Company
5. August: Osage County
6. A Streetcar Named Desire
7. Speech and Debate
8. In the Heights


Shows I Decided I Hated in 2008:
1. Rent
2. Rent
3. Rent
4. Rent
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."

What, You Couldn't Have Thought of That Six Months Ago?

Wilkommen, bienvenue, welcome. Yes, we all know that Spring Awakening is closing in 29 days, but something strange is happening here. Suddenly everyone magically wants to see it. One of my friends, who saw it a few weeks ago, came back and said to me, "Oh, my God! It was great!" Wow, thanks. Yeah, I totally needed to be told that. 'Cause I didn't figure that out in a year and a half. You've truly opened my eyes. A few days later, somebody happened to mention that I was going to the closing show. Some random girl who must have been listening took a break from applying lip gloss to give me a deathly look and say, "I hate you. I love Spring Awakening." Okay, um, I hate you too, Stranger That I've Never Met Before in My Life. Another friend of mine, Maisie (the one who turns into Sarah Palin at night) is going to see the show on Monday. While at her house last night, I happened to come across a DVD: "Scarlett", the horrible, insulting, knock-off sequel to Gone With the Wind. I asked if I could borrow it, just to view the very enjoyable awfulness once more. Maisie replied, "No, that's an inappropriate movie. It has a rape scene." Oh, Maisie. Oh, my poor, unprepared Maisie. You are going to have oodles of fun at Spring Awakening. Call me at intermission. I want to hear about absolutely everything. After seeing the show four times, I have found that part of the fun lies in watching the old folks react to it. Some of them leave at intermission. The ones that stay for the whole thing leave shaking their heads and wishing they seen Phantom. It's absolutely perfectly marvelous to witness. And how deliciously ironic that the theatre is across the street from a church! So, on to my point: I've spent the past year and a half trying to convince you people to give the show a try. It's closing in a month, and you decide to go see it now. Okay, then. Better late than never. So to the people who have finally decided to take my advice: You're welcome.

When Conifers Attack

Hello, darlings! For those of you who don't know, that's my favorite quote from my current favorite show: Cabaret. Oh, and guess what else is from Cabaret: one of my very favorite songs. It's got a lovely little message which some of us apparently have yet to learn. Guess what it's called: DON'T TELL MAMA. That's all I have to say about that.

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.

Come Hear the Music Play

Welcome back. So I thought you would all just be pleased as punch to hear some of my favorite songs, and my favorite singers. No, I'm not actually that dumb, but it would still be fun for me. And this is MY blog, dammit! So there.

Okay. First up on My List of Favorite Vocal Performers, is Lea Michele, the original Wendla in Spring Awakening. I've seen her go on three times, and her acting is absolutely nothing special. I am not soon forgetting the epic "Bitch stole my Sharpie" story, but that is another affair entirely. Anway, on to the reason she made the list. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5h2p3IrrJn8 If you watch no other video that I post today, at least watch this one. It's A Little Fall of Rain from Les Miz. Coincidentally, A Little Fall of Rain is also pretty high up on My List of Favorite Songs. She played Eponine for two weeks out in California. I have seen and heard many an Eponine, but she was far and away the best. Coincidentally, out of the three times I saw her in Spring Awakening, I never really thought she was that great. I take that back.

My second favorite vocalist is Christine Ebersole. She starred in the completely brilliant, short-lived, ridiculously underappreciated musical Grey Gardens, which opened and closed last year at the Walter Kerr Theatre. Let it never be said that I don't love Spring Awakening, but the Tony belonged to Grey Gardens. There I said it. Here she is singing my absolute favorite song in the history of absolutely everything: Around the World, from Grey Gardens. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NP01MAREDz0 You people cannot imagine how much I regret not getting to see this show live. However, a very much appreciated yet anonymous donor has provided me with a rather round, shiny, permanent memory of the show, which I am now free to watch whenever the mood strikes me. To quote the crazed mother from August: Osage County, "Try to get it away from me and I'll eat you alive." Okay, so I won't ACTUALLY be eating anyone alive anytime soon, but you folks get the idea.

My third favorite song is Cabaret, from, well, Cabaret. Ahem.

Anyway.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=muhdACYD6Jc Here's my favorite Sally Bowles (Gina Gershon) singing it from the Roundabout revival. I don't care what anybody says, the song is supposed to be the mental breakdown of a very troubled woman, not a cutesy little club act number. Note the knocking over of the microphone. See? I told you so. My greatest dream in life is to stand center stage with a spotlight and a microphone and take all my anger out on the poor unsuspecting audience via this brilliant song. But, since I am well aware of the fact that I cannot sing, that dream ain't comin' true anytime soon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8E_D8qp4LM&feature=related Fourth favorite song is You Could Drive a Person Crazy from Company. Loverly harmonies, hilarious lyrics. Classic Sondheim. Check out the video. It's from the ill-fated 2006 revival. Yes, I am aware that the girl on the right looks like Alice Cullen, so there's no need to leave a comment saying "omg lol alice cullen is in ur videoooooo."

One last thing before I go. I was chatting with a friend a few nights ago, and I, being the incredibly subtle person that I am, said, "Hey, have you checked my blog recently?" Awkward silence, and then their sage response: "Oh, are you still writing that thing?" Oh. Oh, okay. It's fine, I understand. So anyway, though apparently contrary to popular belief, I'm still bloggin' away. I'm still here. Three cheers and, dammit, c'est la vie. (And I REFUSE to accept the fact that I am the only person left under the age of fifty who is a Follies fan.)

Happy Anniversary

Two years ago tonight, on December 10, 2006, Spring Awakening opened at the Eugene O'Neill Theatre. Six months later, on June 10, 2007, they won 8 Tony Awards. In 41 days, I'll be attending the closing performance. The star burned briefly, folks. Still, here's a toast to a brilliant show, and a brilliant run. Seriously, I'm raising my water bottle right now.

And, with the death of the "serious" shows, comes the onslaught of corporate drivel. We got word today that Spiderman: The Musical is gonna start rehearsals in June. I hoped I would never live to see the day, but there you have it. It won't be long until we see Twilight: The Musical, starring Zac Efron and Miley Cyrus. The day the marquee goes up is the day I give up all hope for the future of musical theatre.

Still, there may be hope for the abomination that is sure to be Spiderman: The Musical. Apparently, Evan Rachel Wood got cast as Mary Jane. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I saw her in Thirteen, and I was rather impressed. Of course, this does not mean that I'll be going to see the show, though. Please don't tell me I'm the only one who's ever seen Thirteen! It's brilliant. I say brilliant a lot, don't I?

Anyway, here's a still shot from the movie. See that girl on the left? That's Nikki Reed. She played Rosalie in Twilight. Trust me, she was better in Thirteen. Except I can barely sit through Thirteen, 'cause it's muy gritty and tres depressing. Lotsa drugs, cursing, crime, violence, and one scene where this girl runs a razor blade up her arm. I can't watch that scene. It's the reason why I have a phobia of knives. Don't judge me. See, now THIS movie would make a great musical! I can see it now! Coming soon: The new musical by Sheik and Sater: "THIRTEEN!" *wailing guitar riff* Ironically, there's a musical out now with the same title. However, that, along with almost every other Broadway show, is on its way out.

God Help Us All

I have a confession to make. I am not proud of what I have done. I am now paying for my actions. This is what happened, though it twists my heartstrings to tell the tale. I was at my neighbor's house. We were playing Rockband. I was rocking out on the drums to Cool for Cats. (If you've never heard Cool for Cats, you're missing out.) I am supremely good at playing Cool for Cats. I have learned to fall into a natural rhythm, so I can think and play at the same time. I don't know what demon posessed me, but I suddenly blurted out, "We should go see Twilight." WHAT?! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?! I honestly don't know what came over me. But I went out. At seven o'clock. On a Sunday night. IN MY PAJAMAS. And I sat through Twilight. I think whatever wave I was riding crashed about halfway through, when I started fighting the powerful urge to shoot myself. Honestly, I don't know how I ever sat through this movie and didn't realize how BORING it is. Maybe that's just because I've now seen it multiple times, but through most of the movie I just sat there counting the minutes until I had to finally get out of there. If I had trouble with the two-hour Twilight, sitting through the three-and-a-half hour August:Osage County is gonna be oodles of fun. Then again, I've read August:Osage County, and it's brilliant. When and if I get to see the play, maybe it won't be that bad.

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."

It's a Big, Bright, Beautiful World

Hello, darlings!! Despite the fact that I am feeling rather under the weather, and haven't been out of this house in three days, I am having a perfectly marvelous day today. Sure, we're officially in a recession, and my poor laptop isn't long for the cause, and every day a new Broadway show announces its closing. But it's a beautiful day, and I'm pretty sure there's something in this medicine that is responsible for this euphoria. But there's a bigger, deeper reason for my lovely mood and positiviely radiant smile, folks. As I said, the carnage continues on Broadway. Every day a new closing notice. It's a massacre, and the people are demanding blood. Yesterday's casualty was Boeing Boeing, which will breathe its last on January 4. But guess what today's was! GREASE!! Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Of course I'm not happy that the cast and crew are all going to lose their jobs, but this is one show that I am in no way, shape, or form sorry to see go. It's really mean of me, but I feel...avenged. At least if Spring Awakening has to go, it's bringing Grease down with it. Actually, Grease is going first, on January 4, along with Hairspray and Boeing Boeing. That'll be followed by Spamalot on January 11, and Spring Awakening on January 18, and then Gypsy on March 1. It's an epidemic, but it's far from over. Still, Grease has gotten the axe. There is justice left in the world. Of course, there are those who loved the show, and to them I say, in my best Stewie Griffin impression, "Yeah, that doesn't feel so good, does it? How's that taste?" But it doesn't really matter, since the only people that have enjoyed the show are grossly uncultured tourists who see one show every ten years. Well, as the Good Lord says, "Good riddance to bad rubbish." And, as the crazy baker from Sweeney Todd says, "DIE! DIE! GOD IN HEAVEN'S NAME, WON'T YOU DIE?!"

Teh Lolz Be Killin Meh

Oh, this just keeps better and better, doesn't it? As the title implies, teh lolz be killin meh. Look what's fallen into my lap: an incredibly bizarre, uncomfortable, and awkward Twilight video! I may possibly love it more than the pictures posted below. But that is unconfirmed and confidential information. So here we go. Curtain up! Light the lights! http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid372203941?bctid=2881433001

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.

This Deserves an Entry All Its Own!

Okay, I know it's been like two hours since my last post. But I found something that I cannot in good consciene keep from you. My new Christmas wish is to have this picture framed and hung in my room. I seriously cannot possibly express how insanely much I love it, or how insanely happy it makes me. There are no words that could possibly express how much I love it. As soon as I saw it I thought, that goes RIGHT to the blog!!! It's also my new laptop background. Okay, kids. Curtain up. Light the lights. HERE SHE IS, BOYS! HERE SHE IS, WORLD!!!!I love this picture so much I am shaking. Yes, that's Kristen Stewart. Yes, she's smoking pot. This is gonna be all over the tabloids, but you heard it here first, folks. I don't even know what else to say to express how much I love this picture. The thing that makes it so hilarious is not that she's smoking pot, but that she's OUTSIDE. On her front stoop. Where absolutely anybody can see her and take pictures of her. What a freaking idiot. I have come to the conclusion that the only thing that could make me love this picture more is if it were Patti LuPone sitting there getting high. Oh, KStew. You have truly reached a new level of stupidity. At least now I know why she never seems to show any emotion. It's allllllll cooooolllllll, folks. It's alllllllll coooooolllll. She's gonna be able to buy lots and lots of drugs with her Twilight salary. But wait! There's MORE!

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.

Christmas Wishes

Welcome back, suckers. Glad to see you're still here. (If, in fact, you are actually reading this and I'm not just talking to myself like in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. And that's a freaking great movie, FYI.) So, today is the first official day of the Christmas Season: Black Friday. Already, there has been one Christmas Casualty. Some poor Walmart worker was trampled to death by a crowd of rabid shoppers. Come the hell on, people. This is not Lord of the Flies. Stand in line like a normal freaking adult. You'll get your discounted TV soon enough, you goddamn savage. I don't know about you guys, but where I come from, there are better places to shop than Walmart. This is not Wyoming. I would be pretty damn offended if my Christmas present came from Walmart. I guess Mormon-style floral print frocks and kitten sweaters just aren't my thing.

But, I thought it would be fun (for me, not for you), to list what I actually DO want for Christmas. So here we go:

First up are tickets to August: Osage County. I don't know about you, but I think it would be pretty awesome to see a grown woman scream, "EAT THE FISH, BITCH!" at her mother. For those of you who think I'm crazy, remember: I go for the offbeat stuff. Keep in mind that my second-favorite show stars a pair of Siamese twins. I don't care what anybody says, SIDE SHOW was Broadway gold. If my predictions are correct, August: Osage County, like most other good shows, is on its way out. I just hope I get to see it before they post the dreaded closing notice.

Two: A kickass time machine so I could go back in time to 2001 and see Gina Gershon in Cabaret. I love love love love love Cabaret. It's the darkest most bizarre-o show ever, and it's partly why I'm afraid of Alan Cumming. But that's a whole other story. In my opinion, Gina Gershon was the best Sally Bowles in that revival. Oh, and I don't think Liza is the definitive Sally. That's right, I said it! Now who's gonna care enough to call me on it? It's not really her fault though. When you get right down to it, the movie isn't really Cabaret. It's just another story built around the music. And the final song is meant to be a complete mental breakdown number, not a lovely little chance for Sally to show off her pretty purple dress. Seriously. Google "Jane Horrocks Cabaret" and prepare to be terrified. It's scarier than the economy.

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.

Curtain Up! Light the Lights!

Hello, darlings! Well, looks like I'm going to be recanting some statements today, folks. Lenora and I went to see Gypsy this afternoon. Side note: Lenora's older sister is the only person I've met who can keep up when I talk Broadway. Brava. But anyway. Our day began with a visit to Starbucks. Let me make one thing abundantly clear: I don't do Starbucks. I have no idea what the difference between "grande" and "tall" is. I don't drink coffee. I don't know how to pronounce the word "chai." So while I stood in the world's smallest Starbucks, surrounded by people who were ordering fast and furious at the counter, I amused myself by playing Spot the Tourists and Spot the Actors. I'm very good at both, but Spot the Tourists in more fun. And less creepy. And easier. But that's all beside the point. So after this little corporate encounter I decided to show Lenora the greatest store in the history of absolutely everything: Colony. They have every single piece of sheet music ever written, and it's all for ridiculously high prices. Fun. (And if you've never gone to Colony get up and go RIGHT NOW. 49th and Broadway. I'll wait.) Of course, this heavenly store is on the same block as my poor fated Spring, and seeing the theatre where I was having so much fun a mere six months ago once again viciously ripped open the already festering and gushing wound in my heart that the closing notice had left. Happy Exaggerate Outrageously Day.



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.

The Twilight Zone

Wilkommen. Since I was an itty-bitty girl listening to the Cabaret cast recording, and Sally Bowles sang that wonderful mental breakdown number and convinced impressionable little me that life was a cah-bah-ray, I have loved the live theatre. I love how the audience can see and hear the actors, and how the actors can see and hear the audience. But, alas, this only goes for the thee-ay-ter. Apparently, the thousand screaming fangirls who sat through Twilight with me weren't aware of that. Oh, my God. There hasn't been that much screaming since Judy Garland played Carnegie Hall. From the very first moment when we first saw Kristen Stewart's Night of the Living Dead face, these freaks did not shut up. And, when Edward made his first entrance, with hallelujah choruses trilling and lights shining from behind him (I'm NOT making that up), the shrieks were ear-splitting and never-ending. So to the people that were in the theatre with me last night: Nobody cares that you think Edward Cullen is hot. He isn't real. Yeah, it was pretty cool when Alice ripped a guy's head off, but you don't need to scream, "YOU GO GIRL!!" No matter how many times you scream, "BITCH!" at Rosalie, she will not hear you and/or get insulted. Yes, we all recognized Stephenie Meyer sitting at the counter in the diner scene. You didn't have to shout out, "LOOK! IT'S HER!!!!!" And, to the girl who was sitting directly behind me. "Yell I love you, Jacob!" one more time, you freaking banshee. I dare you.


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!"

Life's Little Joys

"Ladies and gentlemen, step right up. Right this way. There is no wait. We don't waste your tiiiiiiiiimmmmmeeeee!" Oh, how I wish I had gotten a chance to see Side Show live. Notice how I said "live." Never, ever underestimate the power of Youtube, children. Anyway, before we continue I find it necessary to point out that it has recently come to my attention that there is a mouse living in my basement. His name is Stanley Kowalski, middle name Sarah Palin. He is my best friend. Just felt like that had to be said.

Well, shall we press on? So! In order to further enhance the image that I am not a completely miserable person, and also to distract myself from the twisted, pale pink tale of rape, suicide, revenge, and extramarital affairs that is currently playing out before me on Lifetime, I have decided to dish about some of my most favoritest things in the whole entire world. Have I done this already? I don't remember. I'm having a blonde moment, kind of like this afternoon when I looked in a mirror and thought, "Wow, that girl looks just like me."

Let's start off with one of my favorite Youtube videos. The first time I saw it, I actually laughed so hard that I fell off my bed. That hasn't happened since the legendary I Want My Change video of 2006. Good times. Good times. So anyway, here it is. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpcUxwpOQ_A Ode to Joy, sung by the character with the skinniest head in television history. Disclaimer: By watching this video you are willingly subjecting yourself to at least a week of going around singing, "Mee mee mee mee mee mee mee mee mee mee mee mee meeeeeeeee mee meee..."

Now, on to the sadistic baby upon which I hinge my entire existence. Presenting, in person, that two-foot-one bundle of dynamite, STEWIE GRIFFIN! This baby is my hero. He is everything I wish I could be. If any of us were as brilliant as Sir Stewie, or if any of us had his inexplicable British accent, the world would be an indisputably perfect place. Except Rent would still exist. Oh, well. I'll take what I can get. Ahh, Stewie. What can I say except AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA?! Wow, that sounded so obnoxious that I wanted to punch myself in the face. But I didn't. 'Cause I like me. I like me more than I like most other people in the world. Except Stewie. Who can forget what he immortally uttered in my all-time favorite Family Guy episode? "Buon appetit, douchebag!" That has become my personal catchphrase. That and, "Oh, GOD help you if there are pickles!" FYI, that was his second-greatest line. My third personal catchphrase is, "The world is round. Get over it." That, however, is not from Family Guy.

Life's third Little Joy is Spring Awakening. In the days since the closing announcement I have taken to calling it My Poor Doomed Spring Awakening, or sometimes The Most Underrated Show in Broadway History. Except it's not. That honor goes to SIDE SHOW. So I think maybe I have to find something else to call it. But trust me, folks. I have never had more fun than I did the night I stood at that stage door until after midnight, with all the other freako fangirls. Unlike them, however, I did not ask any of the actors to hug me/kiss me/give me their phone number/let me pet their dog. There's a fine line between devotee and stalker, children. That was also the night of the legendary Pretzels Out the Window episode. That timeless, defining moment in Spring history has been called "stupid," "childish," and "a little much." The people who call it that are just jealous that they didn't catch any of the Rold Gold. Plus they're all adopted. So there.

This next one isn't exactly something concrete or definitive, but I must say that since McCain lost the election, it's been great fun watching the Republicans throw Sarah Palin under the bus. The woman didn't know Africa was a continent. That is totally the reason why Old Man McSame lost the election. Yup, that's gotta be it. Come on, people. It is not ALL her fault. Granted, most of it is. But still, come on. (HOWEVER, no matter what I said in this paragraph, let it never, never, never, EVER be said that I am a Sarah Palin fan.)

Well, friends, I am venturing back to the movie theatre once again. This time I will be sitting through Twilight. I kinda want to go, but fangirls scare me. Keep in mind that these are the girls that have been asking Robert Pattinson to bite them. What the hell is that? He could have rabies!!! Oh, well. I've had my share of fangirls. I did make it through Wicked, after all. Maybe this won't be so bad. But, just to be on the safe side, if I don't make it out, I love you all. Except you there. And you. And you, guy sitting there listening to the Rent CD. God never intended for Rent to happen, kinda like he never meant for Cats to happen. If I have taught you people anything, let it be that.

Cool and Composed...

Sorry for the dumb-ass joke in today's title, folks. So, as you may or may not have guessed, I'm dedicating this post to some of my most favoritest composers. If you've heard of more than three of them, then you deserve a cookie. So let's just get right into it, shall we?

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Stephen Sondheim, aka the greatest thing to walk the earth since Christ Himself. His music. Is brilliant. Let's see what I can dredge up for you to sample...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2gyl8a140Tc

A Little Priest, which is generally considered to be his best song. Yeah, it sounds really messed up out of context, but it's from Sweeney Todd, which is definitely the most messed up musical ever. Except Cats. God never intended for Cats to happen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iiz8nql5ps

Getting Married Today, which is MY personal favorite song of his. Check it out, if only just to hear how ridiculously fast it is. I am proud to admit that I can kind of sing it, but I nearly pass out from lack of oxygen and I'm no gifted singer to begin with.

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.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QKI9skqN7bU

"Freedom" from the Unauthorized Biography of Samantha Brown, sung by Helene York and Phoebe Strole.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcjXJpOSE8E

"Not a Love Story" from Tales From the Bad Years, sung by Phoebe Strole.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgDVj8Qf49I

"Thanksgiving Plan" from Tales From the Bad Years, sung by Nancy Kerrigan, Skylar Astin, Brynn O'Malley, and Phoebe Strole.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFoR0-gZ-4g&feature=related

"My Life is Over" from Tales From the Bad Years, sung by Brynn O'Malley. I actually freaking hate this song, but it's one of the rare Kerrigan/Lowdermilk videos that does not feature Phoebe Strole.

My third favorites are Kander and Ebb. I'd post a picture of them, but my Google has suddenly and randomly turned to Spanish, and to find a picture I'd have to "Buscar con Google", so you'll just have to imagine what they look like. John Kander writes the music, and Fred Ebb writes the lyrics. They're responsible for shows like Cabaret and Chicago. Up till recently I thought their best show was Chicago, but I'm pulling a Palin and recanting the statement. It's most definitely Cabaret. "Start by admitting/ from cradle to tomb/ it isn't that long a stay..." That's brilliant. That's freaking brilliant. Almost as brilliant as the ending of the recent revival, where the background would split open and the whole ensembled would be standing there in concentration camp uniforms. *shudder* That was chilling even via Youtube.

My fourth favorite composer is whoever wrote the theme song to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. That was a defining moment in television history.

Fifth favorites: Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey. They composed the incredible flop that was High Fidelity, but they hit it big with Next to Normal. I am going to Buscar con Google just to show you how very much I love the poster for this show. It's about a bipolar mother who keeps hallucinating that she is seeing her dead son. Note the shattered head. I actually hated this show, but it did have some good songs. For the record, it was better when it was called Feeling Electric. You know, before they cut the song where she passes out in Costco, aka the best part. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFoR0-gZ-4g&feature=related "Didn't I See This Movie" aka the new best part.

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.

Come Look at the Freaks, Part 3

Welcome back, suckers. It has recently come to my attention that I am rapidly running out of things to talk about. So, like a tourist in a NYC souvenir shop, I am grabbing at anything that seems vaguely interesting. Well, there's only one more thing to mention right now: In two weeks, I'll be making a return visit to Gypsy to see Patti LuPone snarl at her stage daughters and then have a nervous breakdown when they decided they hate her. Lenora was just tickled pink that I invited her to come along! Okay, she wasn't really THAT excited, but I'm morally obligated to use the phrase "tickled pink" at least once a day. She'll also be just pleased as punch (another random, stupid, old-person expression that I'm rather fond of) to find out that I mentioned her on the blog again. Once again, her name's not really Lenora. Just thought I should mention that. But anyway...

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.

It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World

Hello, darlings! Yeah, that was a weird opening but I'm watching Cabaret right now and Sally Bowles is starting to rub off on me. (And if you've never seen Cabaret you just don't know what you're missing. Ain't nothing like seeing Joel Grey waltz around with a gorilla in Nazi Germany.) But anyway. I have come to the conclusion that this world is soooooo incredibly messed up that my hero Barack Obama may not even be able to save it.

Before we get to why the world is so messed up, there is one thing I have to point out. Nothing annoys me more than when people knock in recognizable melodies. Oh, my God. I absolutely hate that! It is more irritating than a two-hour Richard Simmons workout video, more irritating than Patti LuPone's snarling dog voice, more irritating than even Rent. I'm sorry, but if you come to my house and knock in a recognizable melody, I will have to kill you. Don't take it personally.

Okay, now back to the main topic. Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please... You're gonna wanna be sitting down for this. The squeamish should look away. The emotionally vulnerable need not read any further. Okay, here we go. Presenting, in person, direct from the dredges of 1970's educational television, I give you: SAFETY SCOUTS!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJJmiHvj72k&feature=related Please tell me I'm not the only one who was subjected to this. Oh, how well I remember how my second-grade teacher would force all her unsuspecting students to sit and absorb the horrors. The poor dear had no clue how truly creepy this show was. I used to have nightmares that the scary puppet lady with the Howdy-Doody mouth and wide-open Paula Deen eyes was coming to get me. This was a show that graphically depicted the horrific things that would happen to you if you weren't obssessively, unrealistically safe every minute of every day. The grisly, gruesome scenes were played out using the creepiest puppets known to man. If you watch the video, pull the little slidey thing to 6:20. You'll see a squirrel getting run over by a tractor. That was the very image that sent me home in tears, screaming for my mother. To this day I still dream about the awful picture of a puppet, drugged-looking squirrel getting flattened by a giant tractor wheel. I've never forgotten it, and I doubt I ever will. My therapist and I are working on it.

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*
Me: "Thanks."
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.

WAIT! HOLD IT!! STOP THE PRESSES!!! Five seconds after signing out of the blog, I found a picture that it too incredible not to share with all of you. The second I saw it, I thought, "Oh, God, the kids on the blog would LOVE that!" So here we go: Possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life. Twilight fans, don't kill me for this.

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?"

Victory

Extra! Extra! Hey, look at the headline! Historical news is being made. Preeeeeeesenting, in person, that six-foot-something bundle of dynamite, President-Elect Barack Obama! Sorry 'bout the random obscure vaudevillian intro, but I've been waiting all year to do that. Let me have my fun. Yessiree, on the off-chance that you're ignorant enough not to know yet, Obama has been elected. Yippo. Let me try to give you an idea of how happy I am right now. Hmmmm....ooh, I got a good one. I am so overjoyed that Obama won that I could sit through Rent, and not even boo during Seasons of Love! Okay, maybe not that. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, folks.

But, I think we also have suffered a great loss with this election. We Americans are giving up something huge.

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.

One Day More..

Tomorrow is Judgement Day, folks. Excited? Nervous? Anybody? Okay, nevermind. Come on, America, flex them arms! Pull that lever! Vote for Barack! Well, I can't actually tell you who to vote for, but, while we're on the subject of politics, let me show you all a friend of mine. Ladies, and gents, I give you, the epitome of bipartisan politics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_c75OtUlWC0. For those of you too lazy to watch the damn video, it's the heartwearming story of some crazy western lady who refused to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters who supported Obama. I got news for ya, lady: They're four! They don't know who Barack Obama is! Denying them Sugar Babies will not change who their parents vote for! Well, tomorrow we'll discover what our God in heaven has in store. Hopefully, my man Obama will win and then Shirley the Bitch can curl up in her house with her ten cats and all the candy she kept from the young Democrats. So may the best man whose name is not John McCain win.

Not Sure What to Think...

It's been a rough week for me, folks. I am still recovering from the twin demons of High School Musical 3 and the closing of my favorite show. (81 days to go, for those of you who care.) To top it all off, poor Clorox got booted off Dancing With the Stars. I don't care what anyone says, she was better than that adorable little Disney robot Cody Linley. So there. But today, I get home, and what to my wondering eye did appear! The cast list for the West Side Story revival! Well, wouldja look at that! Just for fun, let's end one more sentence with an exclamation point! So I, being the West Side Story semi-fan that I am, excitedly scanned the list for familiar names. There were two. One had me bouncing off the walls, the other had me angrier than I've been since Bush got a second term. Okay, let's start with the good.

This, friends, is Karen Olivo. She got cast as Anita. Granted, I saw this coming even more than I foresaw the closing of a certain show which we are no longer going to talk about. Still, I couldn't be happier. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ot7203JISqk That's her singing It Won't Be Long Now, back during her In the Heights days. OMG, taking a cast member from In the Heights and putting her in West Side Story! 'Cause like they're both musicals about Latinos! I totally get that! How original!! Seriously, though, she does have talent. Sitting in the seventh row at the Richard Rodgers and watching her belt, "Somebody better open these goddamn doors!" remains one of the highlights of my summer. No, my summer honestly wasn't THAT boring, but I just wanted to prove a point.

This handsome devil is Mr. Matt Cavenaugh *cringe*. He somehow got cast as Tony, and is the reason why I will be seeing the show on a night his understudy is on. Once again, no personal grudge or anything. But I saw Grey Gardens, folks. I bore witness to the God-awful Joe Kennedy Jr. accent. Since when is an overdone, over-accented caricature good acting? Seriously, casting directors? Matt Cavenaugh *cringe*? Really? No, seriously, really? MATT CAVENAUGH *cringe*? Okay, so I'm being a little pre-judgemental on the poor boy, but I am not having good feelings about this one. This is disappointment enough to rival the day I found out that Peter Griffin existed only within the confines of Seth MacFarlane's mind.

That's all I have to say about that.

Come Look at the Freaks, Part 2

Gosh darn it and golly gee, I've had an interesting weekend so far!! I was loving every minute of it until I let myself be suckered into sitting through the atrocity that was High School Musical 3. But we'll get to that later.

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.

There Goes 49th Street...

They say ya either got it or ya ain't. If "it" is Spring Awakening closing night tickets, then I've got it. Every single crazed fan will be there, and now I will be among them. Speaking as someone who's been there, a bunch of Spring fans together can be a bit of a handful. I know. I was there the night the chorus girls got drunk and got their hands on the pretzels, folks. Well, here we go. For one night (one night that is inevitably going to be impossibly, freezingly cold, and most likely snowing), the Guilty Ones will take over 49th Street. Only problem is I'm not sure it's big enough to fit all of 'em. Oh well. We'll worry about that in precisely 86 days. I am still gonna miss the show so much, but being there to say good-bye (and seven rows from the stage, no less), is helping to heal the wound quite a bit. A shallow selfish person I am.

Bad, Bad, Bad News

Spring Awakening is closing January 18. I think my heart is breaking. It's not like I didn't see this coming, but now that the bomb has been dropped I don't know what to do. Words cannot express how very much I am going to miss this show. And, god damn it, I am going to be there on the closing night. Somehow. I'm gonna figure it out. Oh, God. I think I need a hug.So there you have it, folks. The musical that is of the type that comes along "once in a generation", the one that was "haunting and electrifying", the one that made people claim, "Broadway may never be the same!" has met its end. It's been a very awful day indeed. The fact that I just used the word "indeed" should give you all an idea of how incredibly much I will miss this show. I know I'm being a tad overdramatic, but this really is terrible news for me. It's been a year and a half since I discovered the Spring, and arguably the happiest year and a half I've ever had. It's been an hour since I got the news and I'm still shaking. I don't even know what to do with myself except to sit and wait for the closing night tickets to come out. Oh, God, there's gonna be a death match over those damn tickets. Oh, well. Stand back, folks. The feathers are gonna fly. Anyone who thinks I'm exaggerating did not see the people scaling buildings and dangling from scaffolding in order to get to the front of the ticket line. And I'm not kidding about that, either. People are gonna be killing eachother for them. Take this girl for example: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gb389LkiEJQ Poor confused child. I'm really worked up, but at least I'm not as much of an idiot as she is. And, I still know the difference between twelve and seven.

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.

I Haz A Angree

Sorry 'bout the title. Only LOLCatspeak could convey my not-happiness at the moment. My dearest darlingest bestest friends in the whole entire world have bailed on plans that we've had for weeks. Oh, well. To quote my favorite angst-ridden German teen (doesn't everyone have one of those?): "Just f-ck it, right?" As a matter of fact, let's see how far we can run with this... Okay, here we go: Momma Rose, Gypsy: "Let 'em walk. Let 'em ALL walk. I don't need 'em. They need me." Okay, so that's not really true at all, but the temptation to quote Gypsy was too great. Well, it doesn't matter. I'm freakin' Cinderella, and I'm still gonna go to the goddamn ball. So there.

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.

Come Look at the Freaks

Hello, there. I don't think I've told you all yet how very much I love Halloween. It's my second favorite holiday - after Arbor Day, of course. I love absolutely every aspect of it: the costumes, the candy, the special rush you get from terrifying unsuspecting five-year-olds dressed up as Hannah Montana. Anyway, it's never officially Halloween until I visit a haunted house. The location du jour this year was a three-hundred-year old church that apparently is truly haunted. A few friends and I waited in line for two hours in the freezing cold while hearing people scream in terror from the graveyard across the street. In the time it took for our group to get to the front of the line, we amused ourselves. We practiced walking like Siamese twins, though I'm not sure what we'll ever need that for. We reminisced about the fabled sleepovers of yore where we would paint each other's faces and sing Cher songs. (As much as I hate to admit it, I did, in fact, go through a Cher phase. Trust me, though, that was very long ago.) I entertained and annoyed with my excessive giggling and near-bipolar hyperactivity. After a half hour on that damn line, a woman walked by with her son, who was wearing a costume that completely eliminated his head. So I, with my ever-ready wit and razor-sharp tongue, quipped, "That's not the way to get ahead in life!" Neither the woman nor her decapitated son thought it was funny. When finally it was our turn to go in, we all linked ourselves into a superhumanly close pretzel-like formation. There were four of us, and it was pretty much impossible to move without causing someone else severe physical pain. So we soldiered on into the graveyard. As we made our way up to the church, with people with nothing better to do dressed as ghosts drifting around us, a hideous swamp thing came out of the trees. Our little human pretzel was no more as we all screamed and jumped back from the thing that was coming at us with ridiculous slowness. I would like to say that I planted my fists on my hips and laughed bravely in the face of danger, but, unfortunately, friends, I have no such yarn to weave. No, the grim reality is that I was nearly in tears at this point, and my high-pitched, never-ending shriek was the loudest. We trekked on through the graveyard, through a pet cemetary, and up to the door of the church. By now I was shaking uncontrollably, and it didn't help that it was negative ten degrees out there. My friends and I chatted with a very bored-looking volunteer ghost, who, ironically, asked us how school was. That was awkward. So after this darling little exchange we stumbled down into the catacombs where we passed through a room where a surgeon was sawing off the leg of a kid with an unusual affinity for 1960's ethnic music, a courtroom with a judge that would put the one from Sweeney Todd to shame, a jail with a very lonely prisoner and her disembowled husband, and a torture chamber where we got the dubious honor of witnessing the torture and subsequent burning of a witch. Fun. I may point out that my dearest darlingest friends, who had promised to be my loyal defenders on this trek through hell, scattered like scared chickens as soon as we entered the graveyard, claiming that they were "in pain" and could I "please stop choking them?". Selfish, selfish, selfish. I was left to scream and clutch blindly at anything that seemed vaguely human. When it was over, I discovered, with a little jolt of further horror, that I had been clutching the arm of complete stranger.

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.

Keepin' It Fresh

The observant may notice that I have changed my blog template. I'm very sorry to disappoint and disenhearten you all, but if I had to look at that blinding pink for one more minute I was going to scream. So now that we've established that, I've got the green light to go right on blogging.

Well, I've been getting some constructive criticism on my blog! Let's see, there have been some real helpful gems, such as: "It's a little much" and "You might want to tone it down." Well, I have asked my good friend Mr. LOLCat to help me respond to this indescribably helpful barrage of comments.

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."