The perfect Sunday...

…Cirque de Soleil, the Tonys AND Papa John’s pizza. I mean, does it get any better than that? I think not. Maybe if it had started with brunch at The Water Club, but even that might have been overkill. Instead, Trish and I spent Sunday morning and afternoon dozing and watching DVR leftovers from the week before. Truth be told, I hadn’t left the couch since nearly 24 hours earlier. The body-shaped dent in my couch will attest to my laziness. Since Magic Flute closed on Sunday, this has been my first full weekend in NYC in months. I felt like I needed to mark my territory again before some squatter decided to move in and claim my apartment.

It all started Saturday morning after I stripped the sheets off my bed and dropped them off at the Laundromat. I had every intention of spending the day cleaning the apartment. But a short “break” ended up becoming an extended all day siesta. Trish caught me in mid nap, returning home from several days in NJ. Happily, she humored my laziness. So after about a 15-hour reality show marathon and a second failed attempt at collecting my laundry, Saturday had suddenly melted into Sunday. It was finally Kooza time (that sounds dirty). Hooray!

Trish and I decided to drive to Randall’s Island and suck up the $25 parking fee rather than slogging it into the city only to have to backtrack and take the Water Taxi to Randall’s island from midtown. As for the show, it was entertaining enough and the sheer theatricality and pomp was exciting for us first-timers. But I think a lot of the allure is that it’s not just “going to the circus.” It’s an event. From driving up to the crazy-striped tent to buying your $20 hot dog or Cirque refrigerator magnet to waiting in an endless line for the bathroom, it’s all about the “Cirque experience”. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all about overpriced concessions. There were also a couple of standouts acts. The contortionists that opened the show were just plain freakish. If I hadn’t seen them live, I’d swear they had been photoshopped into those positions. And the two acrobats flipping and running through what seemed like a huge modified hamster wheel drew audible gasps and rock star applause from the audience. I’d definitely return for a different show, considering I’d read that this version was a bit more tame and family-friendly compared to other incarnations. Thank you Goldstar for those discount tickets!

The scheduler for Cirque must be a big ole’ Broadway show queen because the performance ended with just enough time to drive home for the beginning of the Tony telecast. Between host Neil Patrick (aka Doogie Howser) Harris’s cracks at Jeremy Piven’s sushi fetish to Bret Michaels getting clocked in the face with a moving set piece, the ceremony was pretty darn exciting this year. Oh, and what the hell was up with Alice “Theater is a FINE ART!!!” Ripley? I mean, she’s fierce, but she was definitely crah-zazy up on that podium. I thought she was going to jump out of my HDTV screen and slit my throat. She is definitely method. Anyway, I only really watch the telecast for the performances since everyone knows the awards don’t mean sh*t anymore. Not that I’d turn down a nomination, of course. But come on, Rock of Ages for best musical? It was definitely fun and I enjoyed it off-Broadway, but just to put things into perspective, the nominees for best musical in 1979 were Hair, 1776, Promises, Promises and Zorba. My, how our standards have sunk in the last thirty years - or maybe more accurately, how sad that Broadway’s become a commercialized producer of generic, harmless, but ultimately artless entertainment - so much for my soapbox this year.

The most exciting part of Tony night was probably the pizza and wings we ordered from Papa John’s and watching that freaky Hair cast member making those odd faces behind the producer as he accepted the best revival Tony. I want what he was smoking backstage at Radio City.