I'm Going to Hell

RATS IN THE STREETS AND THE LUNATICS YELLING AT THE MOON, IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD!! No, really. I just heard Allison Case say bitch. If that's not the end of the world, I don't know what is. On top of that, Berri probably wants to run a rusty spike through my stomach, and there is a great chance that Lenora will soon feel the urge to do the very same thing. So here's what went down, and then we'll elaborate on why I'm a terrible person. I spent my afternoon with:

Alice Ripley

Jenn Damiano

Aaron Tveit

Kerry Butler

Cheyenne Jackson

John Stamos

Matt Doyle

Caissie Levy

Sutton Foster

Seth Rudetsky

Josefina Scaglione

Matt Cavenaugh

Christiane Noll

Beth Leavel

others I have no recollection of


Okay, so I went to Broadway on Broadway, without Berri or Lenora. I'm not gonna say it wasn't fun, cause it was. It was really fun. But here's how it went, and maybe this self-seeking bitch can redeem herself a bit: My dad charged into my room this morning and declared that if I could be out of the house in ten minutes we could go to Broadway on Broadway. Of course I was up like a shot, washing and half-drying my hair, pulling out a pair of jeans and a plaid top, and out in the door in seven minutes.

We took the subway over. I have to say, I don't think there is any experience that is more 'New York' then emerging from the subway to see the entire city rise before you. We arrived in Times Square just in time to see Sutton Foster's face projected on the big screen. After some expert maneuvering, and my shameless manipulation of the fact that my dad's a cop, we managed to end up three rows from the stage. It was great.

First up was Bye Bye Birdie. It was okay. Seeing Matt Doyle again was a blast from the past. Even when I'm old and in my rocker, I'm still going to remember him as Hanschen Rilow, the creepy omnisexual German Nazi kid from Spring Awakening. He'd make a great Emcee. Because really, there aren't that many roles in the range of creepy omnisexual Germans.

Next to Normal did Superboy and the Invisible Girl. I hate that song. I just do. Alice Ripley seems to have seen better days. But then again, so has this country. I'm a Ripley fan now, I'll be a Ripley fan tomorrow, and I was a Ripley fan yesterday. As such, I screamed like a lunatic for her. I think a return visit to the Booth may be in order.

West Side Story was awful. Josefina Scaglione seemed decent, but Matt Cavenaugh was the auditory equivalent of inserting contact lenses with a razor.

Hair was next. Only Caissie Levy was there, and one of the highlights of my day was watching her horrified face when the host pronounced her name as "Cassie Levvy." It was epic. She did a pretty good job. There are worse songs they could have done.

A few bland numbers later, (I'm looking at you, White Christmas,) Ragtime was on. They did Wheels of a Dream. That's a great song, but my favorite is the Prologue. After Wheels of a Dream, the entire cast strode onstage to sing the end of the Prologue.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncAefV8W7FE And I cried. We're not talking a few subtle tears. This was an out-and-out emotional meltdown. It was pretty pathetic. In case I haven't told you guys this yet, I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE RAGTIME!!!!!!! I don't care where I sit. I'm accustomed to mezzanine crawling, as I've said. But I will be there, come hell or high water. Okay, here goes. Ragtime is perfect. There I said it. Ragtime is perfect. I said it again. The score is perfect. Every show I've ever known has at least one clunker. Cabaret has What Would You Do, Spring Awakening has The Mirror Blue Night, Rent has everything but La Vie Boheme. For Ragtime, though, I cannot think of one song I don't love.

They ended the show but shooting confetti and streamers into the crowd. I literally could not see anything. When I finally emerged from the cloud, confetti was everywhere - in my shoes, down my shirt, in my hair, in my bag. But it wasn't on my party dress.

So all in all a great day. Two weeks to the flea market. J'adore the flea market. Last year I got Berger's ripped shirt. That meant nothing to me then, but now I'm glad I did it. Good times.