A Desperate Woman

So let's start this one off with my admission that I am not proud of what I have done, okay? There's no need to be getting on me for this, for I've done worse things in the past.

It is no secret that I am dying to see Ragtime. I have been doing everything in my power to get myself there. On Saturday afternoon, I went a bit too far. I was in the theatre district, so I thought I'd mozy on over to the Neil Simon and very politely ask for a Playbill. The darling ushers gave it to me, and I hung around a bit to check ticket prices. And then I heard something. The show was going on inside the auditorium, and they were up to Atlantic City. I love me some Atlantic City. So I poked my head in. This was immoral. This was illegal. It was technically stealing. Good Lord, mine eyes dazzled. I started to cry when Evelyn Nesbit started her solo. It is as lovely and beautiful as I thought it would be, if any production can be judged by just one number. If at all possible, I'm even more excited to see it now.

This morning I was almost attacked by a possum. It was not fun. We'll leave it at that.

To wrap it up, here we have Maria Callas. Isn't she darling? Almost as pretty as Vivien Leigh. Almost, but not quite. Anyway, I consider Vivien Leigh to be the most beautiful woman to have ever lived. I don't particularly care that her performance as Blanche DuBois was based in her own history of bipolar disorder. Lady Olivier was the best. The absolute best.