Thanksgiving 2009

What defines a life?

Am I defined by my work? Am I defined by my family? Am I defined by my friends? Am I defined by my relationship or lack thereof? Am I defined by where I live?

As Thanksgiving approached Wednesday night I was depressed. I missed my family. The holidays always bring out that emotion in me. I'm sure I'm not the only person who feels sad without their family during the holidays. However, I began to think about my life and how I respond to situations like this.

Many times leading up to Thanksgiving I posted a status update on facebook about needing something to do on Thanksgiving. A few people reached out who were going to be out of town and one person reached out with an invitation to attend an Orphans Thanksgiving at her apartment. There was also a Thanksgiving dinner at New World Stages for all the employees who couldn't/didn't go home or had to work that evening's performances.

I don't know why this should be a defining moment, but searching around for plans on a holiday makes me realize just how alone I am here.

I wanted to live on my own and as of July I am living on my own. I'm not always lonely, but I'm alone. Being alone can be a good thing. It can be okay. I can be sad and depressing. It can be necessary. It can be lonely. It can be fantastic.

I was hoping to spend Thanksgiving in Boston with one of my best and dearest friends. This was an idea that was running rampant in my mind. I wasn't invited. I was going to invite myself if he and his husband didn't have plans. Turns out they did have plans. So my imaginary trip to Boston faded like a curtain that always hangs in the sun. My other best friend and I are estranged right now and he went to California anyway, so there were two reasons that hanging with him was never even an option.

Many members of my family went to my parents house. That coupled with the fact that I'm having such difficulty finding a flight home for Christmas added an extra layer to my depression. I honestly don't understand why I can fly to Asia for less money than I can fly across my own country. It's so sad. The airlines know that people want to be with their families and that the seats will sell, but they insist are charging higher prices instead of reasonable prices. I digress.

Wednesday night I bought cinnamon rolls for Thanksgiving breakfast and a split of champagne to mix with my OJ for mimosas. The cinnamon rolls were a nod to my mom and the mimosas were a nod to me. Traditions are important to me. If I had been at my parents house, cinnamon rolls would have been served for breakfast this morning. So, I got them for myself and threw in the added touch of mimosas. I prepared my coffee with half-a-pack of cocoa mix and french vanilla creamer for the rolls, but when noon hit, I poured a mimosa.

I straightened up around my apartment. I traded out summer clothes for winter clothes on the racks in my closet. I called my family. I spoke to my mom briefly. I spoke to my sister, my cousins Casey and Whit, and my niece Abbi, and nephew Dylan. I realized I left my dad out of the conversation so I called back and spoke to him for a while. I spoke to Neal earlier in the day and sent Matt a text.

Two mimosas and two glasses of wine later it was time to head to Queens to hang out with Susan.

I arrived at Susan's apartment and there were no lights on in the stairway. I held on to the railing, lit my blackberry, and wound my way up the stairs. I found someone in the stairway that was talking on his phone who just happened to be a guest at Susan's gathering. He pointed me to the door. I was the fourth guest at the table of five. Susan was in the kitchen whipping up meringue. I joined Kim, Erin, and Chris in the living room for some wine and conversation.




When the preparations were complete and most of the food was moved to the table we had one problem. Who was going to carve the turkey. None of us had ever carved a turkey. Erin stepped up to the proverbial plate. She began cutting around the leg and decided she would call her dad and ask his advice. Knife and fork in hand and cell phone positioned between ear and shoulder, our turkey went from golden bird to succulent cuts of white meat. Platter filled and moved to table we began our Orphans Thanksgiving. Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, homemade cranberry sauce, and rolls. Good conversation, good food, and friendship is what Thanksgiving should be about. I'm thankful for the fact that I had friends, old and new, to be with.

Post dinner and pre dessert we sat around watching Friends Thanksgiving episodes. That was like hanging out with old friends in and of itself. I laughed so much. I haven't watched Friends in ages. Who knew it could be so fun to watch those episodes on the actual day? During the viewing party, dessert made it's way to the table. There was pumpkin pie, chocolate fudge pie, apple crumble, sweet potato pie (topped with Susan's meringue courtesy of Paula Dean), two other desserts that I can't remember and a pot of coffee. We filled plates and coffee mugs and settled in for more Friends. At this point, three more of Susan's friends dropped by.

All in all, it was a fantastic day.

I don't know what this has to do with defining my life, but we are defined by the things we do. I was trying to find something to do which made the line of my definition blurry and confusing.

Maybe I don't want to be defined at all.

There's Never Been A Musical Like Her

Carrie a novel by Stephen King 1974

Carrie was the first novel I read twice. I wasn't a big reader as a child. Actually, my love of books started in 1997 after my move to the City. Flashback to 1993 or 4 and I read Carrie twice in one summer. I identify with her. I went to private school from 1st - 8th grade and started public school as a freshman. Not only is it difficult moving from Jr. High to High School, it's difficult making that move as a new student. I had always lived in the county where both the private and public schools were located, but I hadn't gone to school with any of those people since kindergarten. There were a few people I knew from the community, but that made for very few friends in my class. I was an easy target: new student, effeminate, liked the company of girls more than boys. That's, of course, because I was gay, but afraid to be true to myself. I grew up in a religious household. Nothing like the one provided to Carrie by her mother, but religious nonetheless. I was called queer, faggot, sissy. I was picked on for my clothes, my shoes. I was picked on because I was a singer. There were signs taped to my back saying things like, "I like boys." Once in the locker room after gym class, for no reason, other than I was there changing into my regular clothes, a fellow classmate threw a basketball straight at my face and hit me. I could always completely understand Carrie's desire for revenge on the people who constantly picked on and mistreated her.


CARRIE the musical: music by Matthew Gore; lyrics by Dean Pitchford; book by Lawrence D. Cohen 1988.

Sixteen previews, five regular performances, $8 million completely lost. By the time CARRIE started previews on April 28, 1988, at the Virginia Theater, it was the first musical of the 1988-89 season. It had missed the cut off for the 1988 Tony Awards.

It took seven years from idea to full production for CARRIE to arrive on Broadway. There was a workshop of the musical in 1984 with a full production announced for the 1986 Broadway season. That production fell through as the money could not be raised. Then West German producers became involved and the production was back on track albeit in Stratford not New York. The musical became a production of the Royal Shakespeare Company and booked a three week engagement on the company's mainstage at Stratford upon Avon. Barbara Cook was hired to play Margaret White and Linzi Hateley was hired to play the title role. Speculation arose that this three week engagement was a Broadway tryout. Due to near decapitation on opening night, Barbara Cook dropped out of the production after the Stratford run. She was replaced for the Broadway production by Betty Buckley. Making her Broadway debut, seventeen year old Linzi Hateley remained Carrie.

Legend and lore surrounding this piece of musical theater has it that audiences alternately boo'd and cheered at each performance. Ken Mandelbaum writes in his book Not Since Carrie: 40 Years of Broadway Musical Flops,"Throughout Broadway previews, CARRIE was greeted with one of the most varied reactions ever, with derisive laughter and some boos mixing with cheers and wild applause." I have read every review I could find of the musical. They are scathing, blood drinched pieces of paper that I keep, to this day, in a red three ring binder. The red seemed appropriate. Clive Barnes in the Post gave the only positive review.

Mandelbaum writes, "As for the material itself, CARRIE's stunning mother-daughter scenes constitute the most geniuinely operatic material to be found in any pop opera and feature often gorgeous music. There were a couple of decent pop tunes plus a number of perfectly awful songs, but the Gore-Pitchford score is salvageable." He goes on to say, "What makes CARRIE so unique in flop musical history is its combination of soaring, often breathtaking sequences and some of the most appalling and ridiculous scenes ever seen in a musical. It alternately scaled the heights and hit rock-bottom." I wish I could have seen it.

After opening on Thursday and closing on that Sunday, rumor has it that never have so many people wished they had seen a musical. Bootlegs are said to have quickly begun to circulate. After a troubled preview period gave way to an opening night, the show became legend. It was the most expensive flop of it's time. The ads never seemed more accurate. "There's never been a musical like her." CARRIE was said to be fascinating, thrilling, horrible, and unbelievable. There would probably never be anything like it again.

The Reading: NYC 2009

It was announced several weeks ago that Jeffrey Seller and Kevin McCollum would be presenting an industry reading of CARRIE. The article said that Jeffrey had convinced the writers to revisit the piece. My jaw dropped to the floor. I had to figure out a way to get into this reading. The first thing I did was ask Jen, the company manager of ALTAR BOYZ if she could do anything as she used to work at The Producing Office - Jeffrey and Kevin's company. I mentioned in an earlier blog that I had met Dean Pitchford when he picked up his ticket for THE TOXIC AVENGER MUSICAL at my window. My brain was working overtime. I called the general management office for THE TOXIC AVENGER MUSICAL hoping to get an email address for Dean. I was willing to be very forward and ask him if I could attend. Turns out his request was put in through Diana DeGarmo through her agent. That was not going to be my way in. Then Ryan, company manager of AVENUE Q, realized the director of ALTAR BOYZ was the director of the reading. He made the request on my behalf to Stafford Arima. Stafford gave him the name of the person to email and two days later I was confirmed for one place at the 4pm reading of CARRIE the musical. I was so excited that I didn't talk about it for a while. I didn't want to jinx it. Then I slowly began to share with people that I was going to attend.

When I arrived at 42nd Street studios, my name was not on the list downstairs. I was not deterred. I had all my texts from Ryan confirming my name on the list and the gentleman downstairs said it probably wouldn't be a problem and sent me upstairs to talk to Caitlyn. I quickly found Caitlyn and as soon as I started my story she knew who I was and assured me it wasn't a problem.

I stood in the lobby upstairs in front of rehearsal space 3A and watched as more and more faces I recognized from on stage and back stage and theater management filed out of the elevators and filled the waiting area. The anticipation for me was so heightened that my heart was pounding a bit faster than normal and I had to take slow, deep breaths.

Something that I've wanted for so long was just beyond the door I was staring at. Amazing!!

When we were allowed into the space it was nothing more than rows of plastic chairs facing music stands and other plastic chairs. There was a very large door that separated the two rooms opened to reveal the cast. Conversations were taking place, vocal warm ups were happening, a picture of cast, crew, and producers was snapped for posterity. Finally the cast filed into our room and took their seats. There they were: Marin Mazzie as Margaret White, Sutton Foster as Miss Gardner, Jennifer Damiano as Sue, Diana DeGarmo as Chris, Matt Doyle as Tommy and Molly Ranson as Carrie White. There were familiar and new faces rounding out the ensemble. Was this really happening? Was I actually here and getting ready to hear CARRIE performed? Jeffrey, Kevin, and Stafford took center stage before the reading started. Kevin held a chalk slate for Jeffrey. It had the original artwork, as well as, other writing on it. Jeffrey erased it all and wiped the slate clean. This was a new CARRIE. I was euphoric as the first words of the show were spoken and the first chords were struck on the piano. I have been familiar with the score for many years. As a card carrying Equity member, I am against bootlegs. Here is the but. I was given a bootleg of CARRIE on cd for my birthday several years ago and it is one of my most prized possessions. All these years later and those bootlegs are still circulating. I sat in that space and listened to "In," "Carrie," "Evening Prayers," the soaring "And Eve Was Weak," "Unsuspecting Hearts," "Do Me A Favor," the heartbreaking/terrifying "I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance," as well as new songs written during the course of revisiting the material. At intermission the lady next to me asked what I thought. I told her I loved it. She said she also loved it. She said that Marin was bringing her to tears. Act two brought more new songs and I got to hear the heartbreaking "When There's No One" which made me cry. There was also the destruction number full of previously sung lines in the show. A mash up of thoughts running through Carrie's head. Then the "Carrie" reprise, sung as a lullaby by Margaret to Carrie, before the devastating ending. Not only were there new songs, the book had been retooled to more closely follow the film with subtle nods to the novel. There is a clear, clarified story.

When the reading was over and the applause had died away I had the opportunity to talk to people. I was able to express my gratitude for the invitation to Jeffrey and Stafford. I was able to tell Dean what an amazing experience I felt a part of. I was able to thank Marin and Sutton for their performances and talk about how fascinating the piece is. As for Marin, she blew my mind. And Sutton was amazing as a new teacher, believing that she can make a difference. The role is not Millie or Fiona. Later, at New World Stages, I was able to talk to Diana about the reading. It seems that all involved feel the piece if worth a second look. I agree.

Anyone who has heard me talk about CARRIE the musical knows that I've always believed the piece could work. I've always believed if it was grounded in reality it would work. The characters have to be real people. Today I sat in the audience and witnessed my thoughts on the show realized in front of me.

"There's never been a musical like her" and we just may get the opportunity to see her rise again.

Thursday Night Ritual

Up until now I haven't mentioned anything about my Thursday night ritual. I don't know if it's so much a ritual as a standing engagement.

After work, around 8:30pm, I grab dinner and head downstairs to the Time Out Lounge. Sometimes I bring dinner from home and just warm it in the box office microwave. Sometimes I have to go out and buy something for dinner. Last night was a buy night. I went with my friend Ryan to the Amish Market. He wanted one of the salads they make to your specifications. I wanted something from their hot buffet bar. After 8pm they knock a couple dollars off the by-the-pound price. At $4.99 per pound, I can get a lot of food for not much money. There isn't always something on the buffet that I want, but last not that wasn't a problem. Lasagna, roasted chicken, bean salad, cucumbers & onions, with grape leaves and a few artichokes conspired together in my plastic container to make a great dinner.

With Dakotah behind the bar and Ryan next to me at the bar, time just lends itself to relaxing, laughing, and catching up on what's been going on in each others lives during the week.

As time ticks away, the TONY Lounge turns into a karaoke bar. Every Thursday there is a return of people that I only see on that night and the addition of new people that I may never see again. There are good singers and bad singers. There are singers who don't sing and people that shouldn't sing. It's always a good time. My friend Erin hosts every other week and last night was Erin's last night to host for a while. It was time to blow it out. She and I duet on Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats" and last night it was no-holds-barred. I also gave a shout out to Taylor Swift by singing "Picture To Burn." The last time I attempted that song, I could not for the life of me follow the verses. I could only sing the chorus. Well, last night was not two weeks ago. I sang it and I sang it right. I had a great time. I think part of the reason that karaoke is fun for me is that I only stay about an hour so there's no real time for overkill. I sing or I don't. I visit with friends. Then I head out to the major event of my Thursday night. I head to the Port Authority Bus Terminal, 2nd floor, Leisure Time Bowl, and bowl two games.

I take part in the Broadway Show Bowling League. It's a mish mash of performers, dressers, stage managers, crew folk, box office peeps, house staff, and anybody else wanting to have a good time and help a good cause. The BSBL benefits Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids. It costs $15 to bowl two games and shoes are included in the cost. It used to cost $16 to bowl two games, with $2 per person going to BC/EFA. Now we pay the BC/EFA donation up front and pay less per game. Good cause, good time.

I don't know what was in the water last night, but there we were, my team, Ballin4Billin. There were five of us last night. Team captain, Schniedah, and team members, Jen, Snuggie, Hughes, and me, Scooter. We were all in rare form last night. Maybe it's the upcoming holidays. Maybe it was the music from the 50's playing on the sound system. I don't know, but we all seemed to be in great moods. We had a blast. We bowled against a great team and the camaraderie was amazing. We high-fived the competition for a good bowl just like we high-fived ourselves. I honestly don't remember anybody ordering a real drink. Mostly, my memories recall us pouring water out of our pitcher and drinking it. What was in that water? It was one of the best experiences I've had at bowling all season. A season that started in August. I bowled two fantastic games. The second was incredible. I don't know what alien force was infecting my right arm, but I threw a mean ball down the lane. The best part though was the laughter. We danced a lot. Shimmied a lot. Made up a new team name based on something I said. Something that I'm not gonna repeat here. It was funny though. The people I work with are good people. I've gotten to know them so much better through bowling. They've come to be friends that I look forward to seeing anytime our schedules overlap. That's important in a city where rushed and busy is the image of us New Yorkers. It's a connection and a chance to reconnect each week. From 11:30pm until we're done we connect - with each other and friends that we only see there.

I usually get home anywhere between 1:30am and 3am. It depends upon how many people are bowling. Last night I got home about 2:30am. I'm generally off on Friday so I sleep until I wake up. Then I put the water on to boil and the coffee grounds in the french press. As I enjoy the coffee, I sit in front of my television to watch at least one thing that I record on Thursday.

That is ritual.

A Trip to Harlem

The first time I went to Harlem it was by accident. My roommate at the time, James, and I got on a 2 train as opposed to a 1/9 train to go home to our sublet on 107th & Amsterdam. We got off at 110th street, just barely inside Harlem's boundaries. The outskirts. What did we know? Two newly transplanted southern boys. We didn't want to pull out our map. Being two white boys in Harlem after dark scared the bejesus out of us. We'd been in New York City roughly 4 weeks at the time. We just kept our heads down and walked fast and got back to an area we recognized. Again, what did we know?

Yesterday's trip to Harlem was intentional and planned.



First stop - Sylvia's.

My co-worker, Michael, and I met at 5:30pm and made our way to the subway station. An uptown 1 local, with a transfer to the 2 express, was just what we needed to take us to Harlem and the soul food restaurant Sylvia's. Located at Lenox and 127th Street, you could easily call Sylvia's a New York treasure. I can't remember a time in my 12 years of living in NYC that I didn't know about Sylvia's. I've even eaten her prepared foods available in the grocery store. I'm sad it took me so long to get to the restaurant to try the food first hand, but happy that it finally happened. Being a southern boy myself, I was very familiar with everything on the menu. It was just a matter of what I was going to eat. I'll get right to the point. There was lots of crazy good stuff to choose from: fried chicken, smothered chicken, fried pork chops, smothered pork chops, chicken livers, grilled catfish, fried catfish, b-b-q salmon, fried shrimp. The arteries might start clogging, but you just gotta give in and eat it. Much to the chagrin of my companions, I chose the chicken livers, sauteed with onions and peppers, smothered in gravy. I was a little hesitant of too much gravy, but it was just enough. Oh. My. Lord. It was so good. The entrees came with two sides. I only had to decide on one because no trip to Sylvia's would be complete for me with out having her collard greens. I chose garlic mashed potatoes as my second side. There was so much good food on that plate that I couldn't finish it all. I managed to finish the greens, but I had to make myself do that. I hated wasting the left over food, but I wasn't in a position to take it with me. It would have been so good warmed up today for lunch too. My only disappointment in the entire Sylvia's experience was the red velvet cake. I just couldn't imagine it not being spectacular considering, to me, it's such a southern dessert. I have eaten better. I have made better. Oh well, next time I'll have to try the peach cobbler. BTW, Michael got the smothered pork chops.

Pit stop - H&M

When we left Sylvia's we had about thirty minutes to kill before heading to the Apollo so we headed into the H&M on 125th. One H&M is just like another. I looked around. I tried on several hats and one fabulous grey coat. I bought nothing.



Last stop - Dreamgirls at the Apollo

This was the whole reason for the trip to Harlem. Dreamgirls is playing a month long engagement at the world famous Apollo Theater before heading out on a national tour. Before the movie helped Jennifer Hudson win an Academy Award and brought the musical back into public consciousness, Dreamgirls was a Tony Award Winning Broadway musical that premiered at the Imperial Theater in NYC on December 20, 1981. The musical was directed, produced, and choreographed by Michael Bennett, known for the hugely successful musical, A Chorus Line. Last night was my first time to see Dreamgirls on stage and to visit the Apollo.

I am a fanatic of the work of two director/choreographers: Bob Fosse and Michael Bennett. My friend Stephen who lives in Boston actually worked with Michael Bennett in the Los Angeles production of Dreamgirls back in its original heyday. I love it when I get to hear first hand stories from the people who were there. Today we don't seem to have the same kind of theatre magicians. There's still amazing theatre. It's just different.

I've always heard about the set and direction of the original production of Dreamgirls. How it was so cinematic. How light towers were used to create locations. This new production uses LED screens to astounding effect. There is one costume change that I always wished I could have seen. The moment when Effie's audition in Act 2 singing "I Am Changing" becomes Effie singing the same song as the club's hired singer. Guess what! Last night I got to see that moment. Dowdy and slightly unsure, a women who has been through the ringer stands and sings for a man who doesn't "have the time" to listen. She sings her heart out. Facing the audience, the spotlight on her gets smaller and smaller until it's just on her face. Key change, spotlight widens and there she is in a whole new costume performing the song for the club's patrons. I got chills. The brilliance of that idea. I can't imagine it wasn't mind-blowing back in 1981 because it was mind-blowing and applause ridden last night. Such a simple trick done in the dark is part of the magic of live theatre.

To be able to see Dreamgirls for the first time on stage at the Apollo was amazing. Listen to me when I tell you that just to be able to sit in the theatre and hear the music live, to see the songs come to life in front of me, was breathtaking. I can't imagine it ever being better than hearing it in that sacred church of Tragedy and Comedy. It is a memory that I will always cherish. The musical's opening sequence is set during an amateur night competition at the Apollo. Surrounded by that Apollo crowd was also an experience I won't soon forget. It brings a smile to my face any time the memory of any scene floods back into my mind. It was an event.

Does it get any better than seeing a groundbreaking show back on the boards at a historic theatre? Nope!

Learning from "Precious"

Ever since I first saw THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS the name Precious has conjured the image of a girl in a pit with a chicken bone and a bucket trying to lure Precious, the dog of her kidnapper, to the hole. The victim is dehydrated from lack of water and from crying. She can barely whistle. That image at once terrifying has become something comic as the years separate the initial viewing and what remains in my brain today.

Tuesday, Precious got in image update. She's big, unattractive, beaten down, victimized, abused, and somehow, finally, a winner. The Precious of which I speak is Claireece Precious Jones, the title character of the film Precious. The first thing I have to say about this film is how blown away I was by Mo'Nique's performance. It is the epitome of fearless when someone describes a fearless performance. I had heard all the buzz about this film and about Mo'Nique and about Gabourey Sidibe who plays Precious. But until I saw the film I had no idea what the buzz was really about.

I was at once sad, frustrated, angry, and scared. I've never had to live a life so beaten down by others. I realize it's a story of fiction, but I'm sure there are people in the world living life like Precious. I was living in her world for nearly two hours and I was uncomfortable. I had feelings of hate. Moments where I didn't want to blink or couldn't blink. Moments I didn't want to look at the screen, but couldn't turn away. Jaw-dropping moments as I stared at the gritty, dirty, nasty world she shares with her mother. Most of those same words could be used to describe her mother. A mother that couldn't, didn't, protect her child. A mother who sees herself as the victim and her daughter as the villain. Performances so fierce that I was left to ponder what's life like for these people after the credits. What happened tomorrow? Or the next week? Are they still alive?

Those feelings gave way to me feeling blessed. Blessed for the parents I have who love me. Blessed for the ability to read and write. Blessed for my good job. Blessed that, even though it's not exactly what I thought it was going to be, I have an apartment in a good neighborhood. Blessed that I have been given the ability to take care of myself.

I am having such a difficult time connecting myself to this situation. All I keep feeling is thankful that I'm not living in it. I have to be thankful everyday for the life I've been given. I have to do my best every day to not waste what I've been given. I've been trying to write this blog since Tuesday. Precious, finally getting into a school program in which she excelled, had to write every day. If I want to write a blog, I should write every day. Maybe I don't post the blog every day, but I should write something every day.

Life can not just happen around us. We have to step up and make things happen. There came a time for Precious when she took charge of her life. My situation is nothing like hers, but I wallow in self pity. Sometimes I think I'm happier there. Poor pitiful me. Those days need to end. I am truly thankful for my life.

See Precious. I think you'll be truly thankful for all your blessings as well. You'll also see an indie film that lives up to it's buzz.

Observations from behind the Glass

People who see a show over and over with free tickets and always seem to pick up the tickets at my window think that I remember them just because they remember me. Most of the time I do remember them, but act as if I don't.

The same homeless man asking me for change at roughly the same time, while I sit in the same seat, two days in a row, waiting for the N/R train to take me to work. I recognize him, I doubt he recognizes me. His clothes still look better than homeless.

People ask a question at the box office window and don't get the answer they want so they go to another window at the same box office and ask the same question of another person. As if we aren't standing right next to each other behind the glass, hearing all the answers given to each patron.

Madonna albums still hold up no matter when they were recorded. Bedtime Stories and Ray of Light being just two examples.

People think that being completely exasperated when they come to the window to tell their sob story will change the outcome. I say calm down, tell the story, and we'll figure out the solution. Most of the time the answer is simple.

Folgers commercials at holiday time always make me emotional.

Nyquil does not keep you asleep all night long and the dreams while you are sleeping are usually pretty f'd up!

Why do people care so much about Jon & Kate, Octomom, and Levi's penis?

The reaction when someone knocks on the glass to get my attention never changes.

People who buy vouchers for Altar Boyz on the street and then ask, "What's Altar Boyz about?" when they come to the box office to redeem the vouchers for tickets never ceases to amaze me.

When making a trip into the City, long distance, leave your dog at home. You can't leave it in your car in a parking lot or garage and you can't bring it to Avenue Q. What were you thinking?

I find it amazing that there are 6 doors to enter/exit New World Stages. One of the doors is broken and that is the door people attempt to use more than any other door. I watch them push and push and then finally move over three inches and exit through a working door.

I'm just sayin'!