There’s a  million a things going on in my mind.  The bad thing is there’s no one to talk to; the good thing is I have the four walls of my room to listen.

Menopaused?

 Underwear ad has never been so granny-tifying!

Ram rod

While waiting for my turn, the barber handed me something to read. The pictures of women in full un-clothed glory didn’t pique my interest as much as an article on homosexuality in sheeps did. So much has been said about homosexuality as a matter of genetics as opposed to something acquired, so this certainly got me reading.

What completely (a)roused my interest, however, was the purported economic repercussions of homosexuality. Ewe! Farmers in the Oregon State were concerned about lost revenues because rams were ramming other rams instead of ewes. Now scientists at the Oregon State University have jumped into the jute sack and have begun, the article reports, rearranging the chromosomes to reverse homosexuality in sheeps. Not to be left out in the cloud of farmers’ dust, gay activists had expressed opposition because this chromosome reversal might be used to breed out gays. Double ewe!

I think gays – the humans, not the sheeps – are missing the real issue here. That gays are bred out should be the least of their concerns; the impact on fashion should. Imagine what the absence of gay pillars of fashion would do to the fall and winter line. Disaster, I tell you, disaster.

Sleeping Beauty: A review by my date

My date, of course, was a very much married woman, a very close friend who had nothing to do on a not-so-wintry 50-degree Saturday afternoon.  This isn’t so much a review as a joke from a woman who was seated three rows down the orchestra and literally had a birds’ eye view.  

Her: Guys look ugly in tights!  They should invent some paddings to cover their parts.

Me: A tutu?

What I meant to say really was: And deny a select audience their money’s worth? 

By god, one dancer had such an impressive imprint you couldn’t resist but look, and comment.  Not that I would have blurted the same unsavory words because there was nothing ugly about that man in thights at all.  I had to summon enough willpower to get my head off of that fine specie of a head — I mean man.  I wish I had worn pleated chinos instead of the flat-front tailored slacks I had on.  Not that I have pleated pants, because, really, who wears them?     

Her:  The women don’t have boobs!

Me:  If Pamela Anderson was Princess Aurora all men in the audience would be at attention.  Oh, the queue to the bathroom during intermission would be horrible. 

Damn that dancer!

Her: The prince is ugly! 

Me: Right!

Kinky hair, the texture of wire brush, and not so bubble-y butt.  I dunno!  Everything about this Prince Florimund wasn’t princely.  Damn! That dancer with a proud scepter would have assed, er, aced the part.

Les Miserables: Lea’s Miserables

6th March 2007.  “The heat is on” broadway.com bannered Lea Salonga’s return to the Great White Way.  Ironically, the weather wasn’t as enthusiastic.  The bone-chilling temperatures, however, didn’t dampen the theater-going public’s interest, and judging by the multitude that packed the waiting area of the Broadhurst Theater, and the sign saying “Tonight’s show and the next three weeks sold out.,” broadway.com was on the right musical track after all.

The Broadhurst is a much smaller theater compared to the Imperial where the original Broadway production of Les Miserables completed its run in 2003.  As such, minor changes had to be implemented, as evidenced by a smaller barricade, and a trimmed down cast, too.  If you had seen the original production, a smaller cast wasn’t such a bad decision after all, because, really, Les Miserables could be a very noisy musical.

The original production ended barely three years ago, and a revival at this time is premature.  This prematureness  was very much evident in the cast assembled for the show.  Alexander Gemignani, Norman Lewis and Adam Jacobs did justice to their respective roles as Jean Valjean, Javert and Marius. Gemignani, however, fell short of the vocal demands of Bring Him Home.  

Interestingly,  the women, well, except for one, didn’t measure up to the vocal prowess of the men.   Eli Ewoldt’s voice was tremulous you’d think you were watching Belle in Beauty and the Beast instead of Cosette.   She was fidgety and had a peculiar mannerism of standing on her toes when singing high notes which incidentally she could barely reach and sustain.  Celia Keenan-Bolger offered a fresh twist to the role of Eponine.   Her interpretation of On My Own, however, lacked the intense emotion that this critically-acclaimed actress infused into the song.  Of course, so much had been said how Daphne Rubin-Vega spelled the doom of Fantine, and there’s no sense in resurrecting the dead.

What Daphne killed, Lea Salonga revived.  When she took to the stage, the audience welcomed her enthusiastically; and when she segued into the first note of I Dreamed a Dream, they listened and were drawn into the life of a woman who was robbed of her dignity, of her child and of her life.  Lea’s heartbreaking interpretation showcased the myriad emotions in the song.   How she effortlessly transitions to a higher note and still mantains control of the nuances of the lyrics is nothing short of amazing.   

In an interview, Lea confided that a friend advised her to read Fantine section of the book before tackling the role.  For having raised the musical bar, other actresses, and actors for that matter, would do well to watch Lea tackle the role.  

Toys of the Boy

Not quite PG-13.

Sleeping Beauty

Les Miserables review comes shortly.  Today at 2pm I go to bed here.

The Heat is On

On Broadway that is. 

Last night, I finally saw Les Miserables – again –  after many weeks of anticipation,  and Les Miss Lea didn’t disappoint.  

Who would drag out four of his friends  and drive across the Hudson in sub-freezing temperature?  A Broadway addict, that’s who.  So after a delightful gastronomic adventure at Haru 43rd St., five souls bundled up in their winter finery were all ready to indulge in the magical sounds of the Great White Way.  I’ll post my review, nach!, later.

Meanwhile, go to broadway.com for a dream that had come true.

Le(a)s Miserables 1.

Le(a)s Miserables 2.

Idiot Bunch

I don’t watch that much television.  Well, I used to love — and I’m using love loosely here — WB11 for its no-nonsense programming.  Then again, I’m using no-nonsense loosely, too, only because I was, one, partial to its local news, me being a not-so-native New Yorker, and, two, because I was partial to Jim Watkins. 

When WB11 reformatted and changed its name to CW11, and brought in shows like America’s Next Top Model and other crap, I lost interest entirely.  America’s Next Top Model my ass!  Because really who has become a top model from this over the top modeling show? ANTM is nothing but a mindless showcase of ugly ducklings with delusion of being beautiful swans on one hand, and a well-orchestrated scheme to perpetuate Tyra’s delusion as still one of the world supermodels and to inflate her ego whose size is surpassed only by her behemoth breasts and behind.  Meanwhile, her bank account is fast getting fat.

Don’t even get me started on American Idol.  What’s with this morbid fascination with mediocrity anyway?  That home viewers – obviously the same bunch of freaks who couldn’t carry a tune but auditioned anyway – decide which contestant stays and which goes is a mistake at the outset.  You throw in a Dawg and a bitch, and you have a recipe for disaster.  Let Simon and his humour be.  He’s right; he’s British.

Then there’s…  Never mind.  The list runs the gutter, er, gamut. 

It used to be called an idiot box, that flickering piece of glass.  While technology advanced, shows nosedived.  Audience ohhed and ahhed.

Lost in Translation

Patient’s Son: Doctor, why did my mom code?

MD: Because you didn’t make her DNR!

—-

Male Employee #1:  (Talking to a female coworker)  You gotta bring me jerk chicken on Monday.

Male Employee #2:   Why do you call it jerk chicken?

Male Employee #1:  Because she’s jerking when she’s making it!