Our Nation is Capital

I did a bajillion things this weekend including look cute, go to some parties, meet some out of town friends, and not have any time to myself. The highlight was before my friend's production of On the Town in Staten Island, the whackjob director said a few words and then made some horrible joke about Obama and McCain being there and introducing them and being all shocked when they didn't come out. Everyone in the theater was sitting there totally uncomfortable like "Good God this is so unfunny stupid that we want to leave but we can't because we have to see our friend perform in this crazy fat man's show." And then he said "Well, you know who IS here is our very own senator Hillary Clinton!" And I was prepared for another STUPID AWKWARD SILENCE when Senator Clinton inevitably failed to show up on stage but WONDERS BEHOLD there she was: a woman dressed as Hillary Clinton walking to the mike.

She gave some miserably unfunny speech about how she sang the national anthem on YouTube and being so proud to be there. It was the most tasteless display I think I've ever seen, one of those things where you're embarassed to even exist in this world because you have to share it with people who find this amusing. Then to finish up she made us all stand while she sang the Star Spangled Banner in this warbly church lady mezzo, complete with the wannabe diva leap of a partial on "o'er the land of the freeeeeEEEEEEE!" I felt like Mahmoud Ahmadinejad at an Iranian gay pride parade: "This isn't happening. This isn't happening. It must be destroyed."

Here's a picture Cindy took of Christian and me where if we were a band, this would be our ablum cover except where I'm brighter and he's darker.

My mom and her friend Bonnie came to the city this weekend, so everything I did between Friday evening and now has been with them. I'm not complaining. My mom is great. I'm not sure what happened, but a few years ago we just started getting along really friendly-like. Our relationship is based primarily on movies, shopping (esp. purses, about which I know nothing), gossip, weight loss, and the hot guys at the makeup counter at Saks. (But she's still my mom. Emotional support and nagging are also major themes.)

Still, there's something unnerving about feeling totally at ease with such a high concentration of social interactions with middle-aged women. Everyone I work with is older than me. Everyone I date is older than me. This is how it's always been. But when I can hear Bonnie say "Hey, I used to Jazzercize to this song!" and not even blink, it might be time for me to go hang out with someone immature.

But even so, it was a great weekend. We helped Bonnie find a new winter coat because the zipper on hers had broken, so she had to step in and out of it, which was hilarious. Mom splurged on a little Louis Vuitton purse that she proudly showed off after threatening me with a painful death if I told my father. And most importantly, we totally cheated on our Weight Watchers diets with pastrami sandwiches from Katz's Deli.

Ok, I'm not on Weight Watchers, but I still played along with the feigned guilt.

Oh, we also saw Hairspray and Les Miserables, which were what you'd expect. Hairspray was super fun, and Ashley Parker Angel is taller than he looks based on his head shot. He's the guy from O-Town. I think I might have to make him my husband. Les Mis kinda bored me, and Daphne Ruben-Vega was horribly miscast and should never be allowed to sing Fantine again unless she realizes that she's not Mimi anymore. No offense or anything. K, thanks.

In conclusion, I am your number one source for Broadway news and reviews. To leave a voicemail comment or to invite me to a premiere, call 1-800-JAP-LIKE-MY-MOM.