As expected, it's been a quiet week. With the boss out until next Thursday there have been fewer things to distract me from doing my job, and by the time I get home Cheeky's in bed, having exhausted her tantrum quota for the day on Oodgie. I'm psyched because I finally ordered a MacBook Pro so I don't have to sequester myself in our den to blog (away from our precious, precious TV), and so Oodgie and I don't fight over who gets to delete their junk mail first. And we're a week away from our long-awaited vacation to Negril. Prettaaaaay, prettaaaaay good.
Don't get me wrong...it's not like New York doesn't have a lot to offer. It may not have swaying palms, spectacular sunsets, and hummingbirds (as well as other treats treats) on a 7 mile long beach, but it does have some of the best entertainment the world has to offer. For example:
I do not like Rufus Wainwright much. His music is too cabaret for my taste, and he makes Boy George look like a lumberjack by comparison. I accidentally saw him in concert when he was playing with Ben Folds in Central Park a few years ago and it was readily apparent that I'm not part of his target audience. (Not that there's anything wrong with that). However, I just found out that he's resurrecting, in it's entirety, Judy Garland's 1961 Carnegie Hall concert.
I find myself strangely fascinated by this, partially because the urge to stage a full-orchestral performance of show tunes originally sung by Dorothy is utterly foreign to me, and partially because I long to both observe it as a cultural historian and to mock its self-aware irony in all its glory. That probably makes me a bad person or something, but it feels like what this event desperately needs me and a huge crowd of drunk buddies holding up lighters and yelling "Freebird" at the top of our lungs. Who's with me?
On the other hand, I also discovered something of almost equal--if more playful--irony. It's "Point Break LIVE!" a stage adaptation of the classic Keanu Reeves surfing/crime/chase movie. Best of all, the part of Keanu is played every night by someone selected at random from the audience. The producers correctly surmised that a complete neophyte reading from cue-cards can evoke the same emotional intensity that Keanu did playing Johnny Utah in the original.
Admit it, as you read that you were thinking, "Of course...this HAD to be done." It's almost perfect. The only thing missing is an opening act, perhaps a reunion of Wyld Stallyns or a bonus CD that includes all of Keanu's most poorly pronounced movie lines (my personal favorite: "Is the castle fah?" from Bram Stoker's Dracula) I must, MUST get tickets.
"You crossed the line. People trusted you and they died. You gotta' go down."