Kathy Griffin

Y’all know I’m a fan of K-Griff’s (that’s my made up rap-name for my girl) "My Life on the D-List," but I’d never seen her perform live. Cynic that I am, of course I had some reservations. Is she really as funny as she seems on TV or is she just a product of brilliant editing? Can you really sustain an audience’s interest throughout an evening solely based in trash talk, complaining and gossip-mongering (actually, I know the answer is “yes” based on most social events I attend in the city - at least the ones skewed toward the gay demographic)? Did I want to attend her stand-up act only to be disappointed and have my idealized vision of Kathy’s quick wit and brilliant bitchiness forever destroyed? What if she actually sucks? What if she’s just not that funny? I mean, my friends are some of the cattiest bitches around. I have some friggin’ high standards when it comes to trash talk. So with extreme excitement and just a touch of trepidation, lest I witness the downfall of a personal icon, Trish and I headed to ghetto chic downtown Newark and the NJPAC.

First of all, I have never seen so many faggots in downtown Newark ever. I’m sure there were plenty of “WTF?’s” from the locals as well as from the staff at NJPAC. I mean, a Village People concert is probably less gay than Kathy’s audience. But girlfriend, the Jersey gays are not NYC gays, that’s for damn sure. I’ve always prided myself in not being one of those cookie cutter homos who is overly judgmental and all about style over substance. If you doubt that, ask Chris and Dan about having to pry my ten-year-old cargo pants from my death grip. I still feel the hole in my heart and in my closet. And don’t even get Trish started on my dress socks. I mean, who sees your socks anyway? But seriously, the Jersey gays do not know how to dress. You’re going to an event at NJPAC, for God’s sake! I mean, I’m not saying you need to break out the tux, but don’t look like a homeless person. Have some dignity, people. We have a reputation to uphold. And fag hags, and I mean that as a term of endearment, please buy clothes that fit you - not the size you wish you were. And I’m really not being mean. I’ve definitely packed on the pounds in the last year, but I don’t try to force my fat ass into size 32’s anymore.

Well, I’m happy to report that Kathy did not disappoint. Again, the reason her trash comedy works is that she always genuinely seems to mean what she says. If she likes someone, she’s unabashedly honest about it. If someone bothers her, she doesn’t give a f*ck who knows it. I think her true appeal is that secretly, most people wish they could be as open and honest as she is all the time.

My only complaint is that the show started way late and our seats were in the Himalayas. We could barely even see Kathy. For all I know, it was a midget in drag lip-synching to a recording. Of course, that’s my fault, since I was being a cheap skate that weak and opted for the nosebleeds. And talk about vertigo, I nearly threw up all over the lovely couple sitting next to me. A straight couple. Yes, there were a few of those in the audience as well. Straights need their comedy, too.

Tonys

Believe it or not, I almost missed them this year. I was in Jersey Sunday morning coaching some of our Les Mis cast members and had drifted into a food coma after once again consuming my weight in dim sum. Trish woke me up half an hour into the ceremony, just in time to catch the freakish (in a good way) Patti LuPone belt the bejesus out of Everything’s Coming Up Roses. (FYI: urban dictionary definition #2 - a term that can be used with just about any phrase to add emphasis. I was shizzing last night and it burned the bejesus out of my ass. I had a nightmare that I saw Todd naked and it scared the bejesus out of me.) Although she was amazing, it was a bit much for a wake up call. I think you need some prep time before getting the full on Patti in yo’ face.

Overall, I think the ceremony was pretty enjoyable. Lots of performances + shortened speeches = entertainment! Whoopi did a more than respectable job and some of her pre-taped skits were actually amusing. The novelty did begin to wear thin going into that third hour though. Could they really not think of anything more interesting for her to sing/say than "Tony"? On a side note, she makes one hideous Christine; funny and frightening at the same time. Although I sort of feel the same way about Sarah Brightman's performance in general.

I'm glad that South Pacific raked in the awards and that dreamy Paulo Szot won for Best Performance of a Leading Man. I'm proud to have the Brazilian babe playing for my team. I'm also glad to know that Liza's gay appeal factor is International. Truly, he was like a teenage girl seeing Wicked for the first time. And I'm sorry, but damn, that granny has some crazy ass hot legs! Work the mini beeyatch. I mean, she's like 90, right?

In the Heights' number convinced me to buy a ticket - fun, sexy number, great dancing and interesting characters. On the flip side, I was actually very interested in catching Passing Strange before the Tonys, but after its almost non-sequitor-like performance, I may just have to pass on it. It really made absolutely no sense out of context and just seemed trendy without substance. And they need to return Spring Awakening's back wall. Enough with the neon shit. Build a set people!

And once again the hunk with the tree trunk thighs, Cheyenne Jackson, tore it up. That boy can really sing. Damn him for being hot AND talented. I may just have to catch Xanadu again when he returns in August after his stint in Damn Yankees. I'm still debating on that one. If I hear there is some shirtless locker room action, I'll definitely have to break down and buy a ticket.

So You Think You Can Step It Up and Dance?

So I’m a little late on this because I’m way behind on my DVR queue. But Cody? What the f*ck? Fine, he’s a great technical dancer and he’s pretty. Really pretty. OK, hot. OK, friggin’ hot. What ev’s - he’s got the personality of a pile of dirt! Once you get past his bulging body parts, he’s just plain boring on stage. And if you ask me, he’s a total closet case. Did you see his girlfriend? She might as well have been a teenage boy. Flat as a board, crew cut and dressed like a men’s Gap ad. She’s obviously his lesbian beard. My only consolation is that Mochi won the video shoot and that Miguel went home empty-handed. Not that I’m happy Miguel was injured, but he’s so damn conceited and doesn’t have the talent to back it up. His solo went nowhere and when performed back-to-back with Mochi, Nick and Cody’s solos, his deficiencies in technique were made even more glaring. He really looked like just some twinky club kid vogue-ing at Splash bar on a Saturday night.

My pick would have been Mochi. I know, it seems like Filipino nepotism, but her solo really was the best. And I wish Nick’s technique was stronger, because he’d be my vote based on personality alone. And he’s really cute for a straighty.

I’m all a twitter this week with the start of So You Think You Can Dance, my fave of the reality talent shows. It’s way better than Idol because the judges actually choose their contestants based on talent. Imagine that. They actually eliminate contestants who lack formal training and technique rather than rewarding untrained “raw” talent. What gall! Unfortunately, no hottie alerts this season. Oh well, I’ll have to watch it based solely on the dancing (insert audible sigh here).

On a side note, the Opera Company’s garage sale fundraiser was this weekend and it was hell. Literally. We made a lot of money, but it almost doesn’t seem like the pay-off is worth the effort and sweat. Lots and lots of sweat. Maybe if it wasn’t 150 degrees out it would have been more bearable. We did have a good time hanging out with the opera kids and parents, but next time, we’ve gotta’ do it when under more humane conditions.

Legally Blond

It ain’t Sondheim, but it’s entertaining and never boring. And since I only paid $35 for orchestra seats (thank you TDF!), how can I complain? Well, I guess I’m still going to complain, but I’m a bitch that way. First off, Laura Bell Bundy, is actually quite good. She’s a genuine triple threat with freakishly long legs that seem to go all the way up to her perky tits. And I have no idea how the hell she walks, let alone high-kicks and dances, in what seem to be 8-inch heels! She might as well have been en pointe. Granted, her voice did show a bit of “second-show-of-the-day” edge, but was clear and in tune (well, except for the hideously flat last note in the first act closer - yikes).

I mainly went to see Gaelen, a colleague I worked with back in the day when I was on tour with Grease! She was the Marty u/s and I was the Teen Angel/Johnny Casino u/s. She was on for Paulette, the white trash salon worker who befriends Elle. Though the part is badly written with horrible one-liners, she was able to rise above the trite dialogue and belted some crazy high notes that Orfeh (the regular Paulette) struggled to hit when I saw the show in previews. Trish commented that she hated the role and the songs when Orfeh performed it, but didn’t find it nearly as annoying with Gaelen. She also did some ridiculous (in a good way) riffing in “Bend and Snap.” I emailed her yesterday to congratulate her and she replied that she’s leaving the show in a few weeks to start rehearsals for the pre-Broadway try-out of 9 to 5 in LA. Yup, THAT 9 to 5, with a new score by Dolly Parton! I’m happy and extremely jealous. Girlfriend does not stop working - Wicked to Legally Blond to 9 to 5. Who’s she fucking? Only kidding, Gaelen, you’re awesome.

The rest of the show is like a regular musical on crack. The cast has freakishly high energy levels that try to compensate for some bad book writing and some pedestrian, but frantic, choreography. Unfortunately, some of the show just doesn’t make sense/doesn’t work no matter how hard the cast tries. She flies to Harvard to give a live “performance” with a marching band in lieu of a personal essay? Yeah, right. Then there’s the entire scene in act two where Elle decides not to leave Harvard. It makes absolutely no sense. It goes from the beauty shop to bare stage then to a parade with Elle and her parents on a golf cart!? Where are they? Did they fly back to Cali and then drive the golf cart back to Harvard? Oh well, like I said, it ain’t Sondheim.

My only real complaint was that the sound sucked. I couldn’t make out 70% of the lyrics in the opening song. It sounded like they were singing into tin cans. And some of those sorority girls must have flunked out many, many times. Some of them looked as if they could have given birth to Elle. I won't even mention the wigs.

Besides Bundy, Christian Borle was the standout - great voice, natural acting and wonderful stage presence. I never felt he was pushing for the laugh or overcompensating for weak writing (which Bundy was guilty of doing on occasion - reign it in, girlfriend). Otherwise, not a bad way to spend a Wednesday night. Now if I had spent $100 a ticket, maybe I’d be less forgiving. But I didn’t, so I won’t.

I heart Kathy Griffin

Yes, she's a total bitch, but that's why I love her. She's also completely honest and I'll take complete honesty over a gaggle of back-stabbing queens any day. Anyway, Trish and I headed back to school last night, to The Producers Guild East's seminar with comedian Kathy Griffin and the producers of her Emmy award-winning series, Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List at NYU's Cantor film center downtown. The price was right, free, and we didn't really have anything else planned. Sorry, Kathy, if I had been offered free drinks at happy hour someplace, you'd have had two empty seats at your seminar. The funny part of the event was that it only reinforced how "D-list" Kathy really is. While Trish was in the lobby bathroom - aka Kathy's dressing room - Kathy and her producers were discussing the format of the evening and freshening up. Yes, NYU couldn't give Kathy a room somewhere, but banished her to the public restroom. Trish had to push her way past Kathy and her producers, between the stall and the sink in the tiny bathroom, to wash her hands during Kathy's prep meeting! Totally D-list! Anyway, she was extremely cool, and down to earth. It was nice to see that she really is as spontaneous and funny in person as she is on her show and that it's just not good editing.

Ass pirates

I can’t believe we (just barely) pulled Pirates out of our asses. Not literally, of course. That would be quite difficult and painful (and very messy). Our stage manager, Sharon, gave an admirable performance as the Pirate King, given that she had half a run-through and less than 24 hours notice to fill in for our indisposed actor. All in all, she acquitted herself quite nicely. Of course, there was some highly creative improvised dialogue, and much of it from actors who had actual rehearsal time and should have known better, but that’s a whole 'nother can of worms that I don’t wish to crack open and smear on anybody’s reputation, especially some high school kid. Since I’ve learned that it’s not just my sister and I that read my blog, in order to protect the innocent I’ll have to desist naming names - at least if they’re under age. But watch out biyatches, once you’re over 21, you’re asses are fair game. Anyway, it was hard to keep track of who was playing what role in any given show since so many people were double cast, sick or just plain clueless on stage. I just sat in the pit minding my own business and conducting the orchestra, and by orchestra I mean me at the piano and Trish turning pages.

The best part of the 3-day run? Having dinner and getting ice cream between Saturday shows with my nominee for “Hot Jersey Mom,” Anita Napoli. No, there is no such award, and yes, I’m gayer than springtime (poor Oscar could never have foreseen his lyrics used in this context), but I know a hot mom when I see one. Lest I get hate mail for playing favorites, we did not plan to have dinner with Anita and her daughter Gabby, we just coincidentally ended up going to the same restaurant (a lovely Thai fusion place, Avenue East). In all honesty, Trish, Juan, Val and I tried to find a restaurant off the beaten path in order to avoid any additional contact with the cast and parents. Not that we don’t love our kids (now the parents - at least some parents - well, that’s a different matter. Mama Rose anyone?), but sanity must be preserved in these days of show overload. Next week, is the opera company’s garage sale fundraiser and the following week is the graduating senior’s cabaret show. Then we’ll finally get two weeks to recuperate before we start all over again with Les Mis.

Some of our lovely Young Artists backstage at Pirates (Kristen Caruana, Kaitlyn Mills and Katy Cockrell).

Going down with the ship

Our production of Pirates is definitely cursed. Peter, Greg and Bobby please return the tiki to the ancient Hawaiian burial ground ASAP (anyone? if you guessed Brady Bunch Hawaii triple episode, season 4, you're a bigger loser than I am)! Anyway, following some nightmare casting (both Fredericks dropped out of the show 2 weeks before opening) and opening week falling directly before a holiday weekend so we couldn't rehearse, we have been served yet another ridiculous obstacle. Midway through the first act of last night's final dress, the Pirate King fell deathly ill and had to be rushed to the hospital. Of course, it just so happens that this is the only role that we DID NOT assign an understudy or double cast. We jokingly threw our stage manager onstage on book to fill in thinking our PK was just suffering from intense pre-opening jitters. Our stage manager is about five foot tall, somewhat portly, well over the age of 40 AND a woman (but a lovely, kind soul). Did I mention that this is a student production? Anyway, although she is an immensely talented performer in her own right, something about watching a middle aged woman in pirate drag cavorting onstage with a bunch of teenagers is just slightly disturbing. Anyway, turns out that the PK caught an intense virus and can't go on tonight - OPENING NIGHT! Oh well. The show must go on and tonight will be no exception. All my fingers (and toes) will be crossed and hoping for the best. Hopefully, by closing performance on Sunday afternoon, all will be well. I will most likely be drunk, if not slightly tipsy by then. Did I also happen to mention that I'm the orchestra? Just my ten fingers and an extremely out of tune piano. The indignity continues. Please come witness it this weekend while contributing to a worthy cause - my paycheck.

Is facebook a sign of Armageddon?

How am I expected to get any work done in the office when I have access to facebook on my computer? I mean, really, it's like digital crack. Soon enough, face-to-face social interaction will become obsolete. Instead, we'll communicate via sentence fragment on each other's walls. Very sad. Although I'm all for finding new ways to stay in touch with friends and family, is it really realistic or necessary to have 235 friends? Is it even possible to have 235 "friends"? Can you really define a "friend" as someone you have little or no communication with except for an occasional poke, or superpoke? Are we raising a generation of socially retarded kids who don't know how to hold an actual conversation in person? Oh dear, I'm getting a bit too philosophical here, but you get the idea.

Anyway, last night's first dress rehearsal for Pirates was, well, interesting, to say the least. Half the cast wasn't there because they had their High School chorus concert and the half that did show up only knew about 65% of their lyrics, lines and blocking. Tonight's final dress is going to be a doozy. At least they'll have four performances to get it together. I really can't wait until Sunday night. No rehearsals for anything until the end of June. I'm free! I'm free! I'm free! And I'll finally get my weekends back, at least for a couple of weeks.

Memorial Day = meat

Well, I’m back to the grind today after a successful weekend of holiday partying. And by successful, I mean ingesting the equivalent of my body weight in grilled pig and cow products. My one disappointment? - being unable to show a lonely fleet week sailor my special brand of NYC hospitality. Oh well, there’s always next year. Actually, I think the fleet’s still in town until tomorrow morning so that leaves me a couple of hours. I do enjoy a challenge.

Anyway, thanks to Peter & Ray and Damienne & Steve for inviting me to their respective rooftop barbecues and to my homeboy, God, for supplying such lovely weather. I can’t even believe I actually know people who have rooftop apartments, let alone who like me enough to invite me to their parties and let me meet their friends. Hello newly found self-esteem!

P&R’s party Saturday night was such a delight because there was nary an actor or performer in sight (ooh, that rhymes). It was such a relief not to have to answer the dreaded and annoying, “Are you doing anything right now?” I was actually able to hold full conversations without once mentioning an audition or callback or having to explain why Bernie Telsey hates me or why Audra is so fierce. And the food! Leave it to the gays to convert the lowly barbecue into a culinary extravaganza. Although I’m still not quite convinced about the watermelon and mint sprinkled with English salt.

The usual suspects were spotted at D&S’s rooftop on Monday. A party there is always welcome because you know the regulars will show up and you can just be your stupid self. I’ve known these characters since I moved into the city over a decade ago hanging out at the now defunct Le Beaujolais Restaurant - which is, coincidentally, the location of one of my worst alcoholic binges. I will always be indebted to Chris Johnson for cleaning up the puddles of puke on the restaurant floor where I laid clutching a silver champagne bucket, while Damienne (who owned the restaurant at the time) and the gang sat at the bar laughing at my misfortune. Ah, the memories. Anyway, the party actually did get more interesting, since the cast of The Lion King showed up because Steve happens to work at the Minskoff. How many people can say they got to taste Mochi’s lumpia? Alas, we weren’t able to get her to give us the skinny on the final episode of Step It Up and Dance. So I guess we’ll just have to watch the episode like everyone else this week. FYI - 30 years old? Really? If you say so, sweetie.

Chris and Betsy have promised to send me pics from the weekend’s festivities to post here, so you’ll see ‘em when I get ‘em.

Hmmm, what else? Oh, Trish and I caught the new Indiana Jones. It was thoroughly entertaining, if not extraordinary, and Shia was actually not as annoying as I thought he would be. Great special effects and interesting storyline, but Harrison sure is getting old. Aren’t we all? You’ll always be Han Solo to me.

LOC’s Young Artist production of Pirates of Penzance goes into tech week tomorrow. Should be extremely, extremely scary considering we’ve had maybe half a dozen rehearsals and we haven’t really run anything more than once. Pray for us.