Merry Christmas

Swing Your Razor Wide, Sweeney

I was half-convinced I'd waken.
Satisfied enough to dream you,
happily I was mistaken ....
-- "Johanna" / Sweeney Todd

In Dueling Evitas I touched very briefly on a night that I went to see Sweeney Todd done live and in concert where the whole magical evening was dampened a bit by La LuPone's incessant braying. What I didn't go into was how my obsession with Sweeney Todd (in every form imaginable) has been going on for close to 25 years now ... trumped only by my obsession with the wondrous Stephen Sondheim himself which started when I was barely 13.

I can still remember that moment that froze me, made me stand still in the middle of that black and white checkered floor in my parent's basement, where I'd lip-synced my way through the Rogers and Hammerstein canon. I'd just gotten the album "Hooked on Broadway" (Part of the successful "Hooked On ..." series) and was listening to it for the first time. There was a Sondheim/Gershwin tribute and I was a Gershwin fan ever since I heard Rhapsody in Blue so was paying particular attention. Who this Sondheim fella was, I hadn't a clue. Oh, but I was about to find out ... and nothing would ever be the same again.

In the middle of the medley, a phrase rang out - two notes, really, but two notes in the middle of a phrase that was already so lush - and I just couldn't believe that music could sound like that, that this unexpected note could pop up and suddenly give the whole phrase an undertone of darkness. That something so heavy with beauty could turn ugly in just two notes and then rebound to the glorious fullness from where it came -- this was a concept that was astonishing to me. I had come from the old school world of musical theatre; dissonance had never played a part in any of my favorites before. The liner notes of the album told me that the two notes were from the song "Johanna" ... the musical was Sweeney Todd. The phrase was the one I quoted above.

Once I found out about Sondheim, I couldn't stop. I collected everything I could lay my hands on.

Company, Sweeney Todd, A Little Night Music, Follies, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, Merrily We Roll Along, Anyone Can Whistle … like someone who can tell Coke from Pepsi blindfolded and in one sip, I could spot a Sondheim internal rhyme with both hands tied behind my back by the time I was 14. I became a purist and a completist … I own records of works of his that never were produced, retrospectives, tributes. I could name that tune in 2 notes.

I even gave up my starry-eyed notion of love so instilled in me by Rogers and Hammerstein for the more jaded (realistic) attitude of Sondheim. And years later, when I took pen to paper to write the Great American Novel, it was a tragedy only partially less grim than Sweeney Todd. Tragic death, mistaken guilt, a lifetime of revenge, pawns who suffer needlessly and never understand why; yes, it was all there.

I was in high school when PBS started airing the live version starring George Hearn and Angela Lansbury and I became so obsessed that it made all my previous obsessions look like casual dabblings. I taped it off the TV and raced home from school every day to watch it and memorize it so that, when called upon, I could play Mrs. Lovitt at a moment's notice. When I wasn't watching it, I was singing it over and over again to myself. When I wasn't singing it, I was dragging friends over to my house to watch it. When I wasn't dragging friends over to watch it, I was listening to the album, making mental notes of who was the better Sweeney. (Album = Len Cariou, PBS = George Hearn. George won, hands down.) I taught Sweeney Todd 101 to anyone who ventured over our doorstep, devoting an entire evening to the

differences between each actor's interpretation of "at last my arm is complete again!"

Eventually I weaned myself from Sweeney since I really had to ... it was wean or be a complete social outcast. Still, he was never far from my heart.

Fast forward to present day, and see me and Quibbit last night at the City Cinemas Village East Theatre, packed in like sardines and holding our breath as the new Sweeney Todd flickered on the screen before us.

Sweeney Todd, the movie, could have gone horribly wrong in so many ways. But it didn't. No, every breathtaking moment of Sweeney Todd was done so remarkably right that it did the impossible -- it eclipsed the PBS version I had held as the Holy Grail for over half my life.

Of course I'd heard the buzz long before I'd seen even one preview -- and I couldn't quite tell if I was ready to embrace it or dismiss it. Although, from the onset it was genius. Who but Tim Burton could direct this Gothic tale of madness, revenge and obsession? And, while I'd never before thought of Johnny Depp as Sweeney Todd, when Sweeney raises his razor and speaks "at last ... my arm is complete again" ... it was like Edward Scissorhands embracing his shining silver blades in a moment that had come full circle.

Cinematography was dark, brooding, spectacular, perfect.
Music was perfectly chosen, artfully executed, breathtaking, shockingly layered.
Casting was brilliant. Aside from Johnny Depp's ability to play absolutely anything and anyone, there was Alan Rickman oozing out of Judge Turpin's skin with all the evil of Severus Snape coupled with a perversion that no Harry Potter film would ever allow him to expose.
And Sacha Baron Cohen seemed a bit of stunt casting until he actually delivered the goods and (I'm sure, if Friday's audience was any indication) brought in a whole slew of Borat fans who hadn't really heard of Sondheim or cared about this musical enough to see it otherwise.

Helena Bonham-Carter is, of course, sleeping with the director (and spittin' out progeny pretty regularly) but she does have that thing going on that makes her

a pretty good Mrs. Lovitt in the "I'm a bit daft myself and therefore have no problem being in love with a mad man who bears no resemblance to the Benjamin Barker I loved 15 years ago" way. I do love the was she can pull off those corpse-bride eye circles. And I will say that she brought something totally unexpected and therefore enjoyable to the role. So, reedy voice and all, she gets my thumbs up. Of course, having been preparing for the role since 16 I was a little disturbed that "The Worst Pies In London" wasn't a half step faster (the way it was meant to be done) since one of my most enviable talents is being able to sing every word of Sondheim's lyrics as quickly as he wrote them to be sung. My "Not Getting Married Today" from Company blurs right past you. Anyway, it all was fine in the end.
Favorite unexpected joy: "By the Sea" which I didn't see coming and which left me with a wide smile and tears of joy and a heart that beat a mile a minute.
Oh, and that little boy who played Toby was outstanding.

Every single thing about this movie is flawless and the only complaint that I have is that it came out so close to Christmas -- so I won't be able to get back to the theater as soon as I'd like for a second, third, forth and possibly fifth viewing. Then, of course, it's the first thing I plan to play on the wide screen TV which I will have bought for the express purpose of viewing this magnificent movie over and over again. Oh, Quibbit, hang on tight --- It's going to be a very Sweeney few years.

It's a Small, Small World

I've been in love with Disney World since I was a little 6 year old in a mini-skirt and earth shoes, posing with Mickey in front of the chocolate-covered Frozen Banana stand. I loved Disney World when all there was was a Magic Kingdom with a Howard Johnson's nearby. I loved Disney World when "having breakfast with a character" meant going to the all you can eat buffet and having a gum-chewing 60 year old waitress with a bee-hive call you Sugar Pie as she re-filled your amber colored plastic juice glass with chocolate milk. I loved Disney World back when an E-Ticket had nothing to do with the electronic ticket that spits out at you from the Delta kiosk at JFK after you insert you credit card at least 3 times before getting it in facing the right way.

Some time in the 1970s I went to Disney for the first time with my Dad and he did all the dad-on-vacation-alone-with-no-mom-there things that dads do … like putting my hair in 2 pony tails that verged on child abuse (too tight, uneven, hair all knotty). To make up for it he bought me anything that had Minnie Mouse on it – feeding an addiction I'd had no inkling of before setting foot in Orlando, but an addiction I couldn't shake and one I fell prey to every time we passed a gift shop.

We went back the following year with my Mom. For me it meant better hair this time, but less presents as my mom (or "bad cop") put her foot down against "all that nonsense". And rightly so, because once I had gotten home from my trip with dad, all my Minnie items promptly were lost, discarded, broken or traded away.

Then there was this long lull that involved no trips to Disney. When friends of mine went and came back with gushing tales of Epcot I looked at them quizzically. Ep-what? Did it sell Frozen Bananas too?

And so the years dragged on, Disney-less, until some time when I was in my mid 20s and my childhood friend, M (first half of M+M) invited me to join her family for a few days in the parks. In SUMMER ... So my first foray back to Disney brought with it lines that funneled through every available crowd-management tool invented. A good line meant only a 1 hour wait. ("Let's get on this one while it's still short!") Even FastPass (though a good idea in theory) becomes nothing but a funny little notion during those kid-chocked months. Still, I loved every minute of it and couldn't wait to go back. At a different time of year of course ... and with my Boo.

Quibbit and I decided to go in mid-December which is a bad time to leave, but a great time to go. Okay, so it meant writing the Christmas cards in November, but it was worth it.

We Stayed At Disney's Caribbean Beach Resort
I'm not a beach person. You'll never find me spending money on a Caribbean vacation. So, there's only one explanation as to why I decided to stay at the Caribbean Beach Resort: the other mid-priced resorts were full. But surprise surprise -- turns out Quibbit and I really did enjoy the benefits of the beach; we spent two or three nights rocking in the hammock there after a long day in the park, looking up at the stars through the palm tree fronds and enjoying the sound of the fireworks exploding over Epcot.

We Saw Fireworks Every Night
I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy, do or die. I was born on the 3rd of July (aka Independence Day Eve) so I've been imprinted strongly with a love of fireworks. If someone's shooting them off, I'm watching them.

It Was Quibbit's First Time
This meant I got to be tour guide, but also got to be shown a few things myself. I wanted this to be a great vacation for him, so we focused on whatever he wanted to do.

:: Disney-MGM Studios ::
The Disney MGM park is a nice way to start your vacation; really manageable and nicely walkable, which is why it made sense to start there the afternoon we arrived. Nothing like being in a theme park just 4 hours after leaving JFK!

Half-a-Star
The Great Movie Ride
The outside looks like Grauman's Chinese Theatre, and the inside has great costumes from movies (like the fur coats from the Chronicles of Narnia), and even the wait is fun, as you watch scenes from old movies play out in front of you on a huge screen. But after that the slow pace of the ride, the guide's incessant (scripted) chatter which often is spoken over the animatrons' dialogue, and the lack of anything new makes it a big yawn.

Always Fun
Star Tours
Muppet Vision 3-D
Tower of Terror
I get scared just in the lobby! The idea of plunging down the elevator shaft is terrifying and thrilling and gets to me the minute I see that dusty tableau at the entrance of the tower. I'm usually halfway chickened out by the time I get to the "boiler room" but then I look around and see a bunch of 12 year olds. 'nuff said.

First Time On
Rock 'n' Rollercoaster Oh MAN! What the hell! Whoooo! I'd never had the courage to go on it before, but this time I figured if I was going to die at least Quibbit would be by my side. I am NOT kidding when I tell you that after the 2 minute ride (or less?) our insides were so shocked that we hobbled like senior citizens to the nearest bench and then used the excuse that "we need protein" to get a smoked turkey leg.

Favorite Thing About MGM This Trip

The Osborne Family Christmas Lights Display
While I admit it's a little surreal to travel from an ACTUAL NYC street that is ACTUALLY cold all the way to an MGM façade of a NYC street in Florida that just "looks like" NYC and is sprinkled with fake snow that shimmers down on you Edward Scissorhands style, there's a bit of magic in the whole thing. When that switch was flipped and those billions of lights came on, there was nothing more beautiful to me.

:: Epcot ::

When you see the original plans for Epcot it's sad to see how far it got away from it's original concept. I would have loved to see the bullet train ride that was slated for Japan, or the other countries that never made it to the world showcase. Still, Epcot as it is now is a great deal of fun and for Quibbit, who is all brainy and stuff, it was a good place to soak in a lot of information in one day.

Half-a-Star
The Seas w. Nemo and Friends

Last time I was at Disney World this ride was just called The Seas and had a whole different feel to it. Not so ... um ... Nemo-ish? The movie was heartwarming and great ... but I liked the old ride better. Is it possible to resent the Disneyfying of Disney? More on that later ...

Also – Spaceship Earth was closed which sucks since you're taunted from all over the park by that huge geodesic dome.

Always Fun
Ellen's Energy Adventure
Test Track

First Time On
Mission Space (We took the option of being on the "Green Team" – the milder version of the ride - since Quibbit was getting a little green himself!)

Favorite Thing About Epcot This Trip / Future World

Soarin'

Favorite Epcot Country - Germany

Their beer garden is so authentic -- it's the next best thing to being in Germany during Oktoberfest. Plus, it's really nice to drink beer in the middle of the day.

Bavaria's in my blood, and when you can't get all the way to Muenchen, this will work just fine.

:: Magic Kingdom ::

Magic Kingdom ... the park that started it all. Like a whole little world unto itself. I always save it for the 2nd or 3rd day, because I'm too excited to see it the first day -- I need to ease into Disney Mode before walking down Main Street. But once I'm there ...

Half-a-Star
Stitch's Great Escape!
If you came looking for the old ride that was ridiculously scary (not simply ridiculous) then it's a little disappointing to see it replaced with this ride. If I wanted to see Stitch bounce mischievously around a room, burping chili hot dogs, I'd get up early on a Saturday morning and watch the Disney Channel. It was Nemo all over again.

Always Fun
Big Thunder Mountain
Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin (one of Quibbit's favorites)
The Haunted Mansion

Pirates of the Caribbean
Space Mountain

First Time On
Jungle Cruise

Hall of Presidents

Mickey's PhilharMagic
Snow Whites Scary Adventures
Splash Mountain - yes hard to believe I'd never been before ... but the lines were always too long.

Favorite Thing About Magic Kingdom This Trip
Being there with Quibbit. Magic Kingdom is one of those leave-your-grown-up- self-at-the-door kinda places ... more than any other place in WDW. And Quibbit is the most open, uninhibited, unguarded person I've ever known. He is completely joyful and was 100% immersed in everything we did, even "WWWOOOO!!!!"-ing on the Winnie the Pooh ride. He is a total treasure, and seeing the most Magical Place on Earth through his eyes was the most freeing experience I've had. Plus, you know, I just love the guy.

:: Animal Kingdom ::

Some time last summer Quibbit and I had taken a day and gone to the Bronx Zoo. Seeing how much he enjoyed all the animals made me know that Animal Kingdom would probably be a great place to be with him. It was as great way to end our vacation so we spent a nice leisurely last day there.

Half-a-Star

Rafiki's Planet Watch is, I'm sure, a whole boatload of fun if you're 3 years old or a tired family who's looking to get away from the crowds, or ... I don't know. I don't know what would make this place fun. To me, it's just some crowd control tool, which probably works well enough. But if this hadn't been Quibbit's first time, and if I hadn't made a deal that I'd see all the things he asked about, then this would have been one I'd have skipped.

Always Fun

It's Tough To Be A Bug

Kilimanjaro Safaris

Dinosaur
Primeval Whirl

First Time On

Kali River Rapids

Expedition Everest




Favorite Thing About Animal Kingdom This Trip
Going on all the new thrill rides were amazing; and hands down my most favorite memory of Animal Kingdom was seeing the photos that get taken automatically (and are for sale) after Everest and Dinosaur -- the look of sheer terror on Quibbit's face had me laughing for days every time I recalled it.

Wrap Up
I've said for years that when you're an adult and you don't have a child, your inner child becomes your child. And I could think of no better way to herald in the Christmas season than to take little Luvviepuffaroo and little Quibbit to the place where dreams come true. Cue music ...

Put in Context

The other night I went to go hear Ross Robertson (editor for What Is Enlightenment? magazine) give a talk at the EnlightenNext Center about his article in the latest issue entitled: A Brighter Shade of Green: Rebooting Environmentalism for the Twenty-First Century. It was a good talk about the old guard environmentalists versus the new.

In his presentation, Ross talked a lot about Buckminster Fuller which made me think back to the Summer of Somehow …

Two and a half years ago I did the Luvviepuffaroo Re-Invention Tour (having successfully completed the Luvviepuffaroo Who's That Girl Tour but yet to conceive of the Luvviepuffaroo Confessions Tour). The Re-Invention Tour involved quitting my job and thumbing my nose at a career that I had stumbled into backwards which then grew faster than Audrey II, sucking up pretty much the same amount of blood. It was an ill conceived career in ... Finance. (insert vile retching sound here).

In a procedure that was much like a no-fault divorce (they called it a "Mutual Agreement Package") my management team, my Human Resources department and I all sat down and discussed terms, shook hands, and decided that after seven years we'd gotten all we could out of the partnership. "You go your way, we'll go ours, sign here". I signed. How easy it all was -- something I though could never be done.

I definitely lost a lot … stability, routine, my whole infrastructure of friends, a steady income, a feeling of security, a reason to shower in the morning. Having once laughed from behind my desk as I watched Odd Todd animations, I now envied how Todd at least was able to fit a walk into his grand daily plan. For the first 5 months, as I lived off my severance package (sorry ... Mutual Agreement Package) I never got much beyond getting out of bed and sitting on the couch.

And some of the things I gained weren't that useful: panic attacks, crazy mad computer game skills, a talent for reciting the entire TV lineup starting from the moment I tossed and turned and finally vaulted out of bed at 10:00 or 10:30 a.m. (The Maury Show -- Tyrell, you ARE the father!) all the way to Fear Factor at 2:00 a.m. Yes, I said Fear Factor. I can't even explain that one.

Though, in solidarity, I did cultivate a pretty large addiction to Starting Over (and ... I'll admit it ... Starting Over message boards).

However, I had two things going for me
1) a real desire to change my life and
2) Ookanuba, my love-her-like-a-sister-never-knew-a-day-without-her-in-
my-life friend who, despite being vastly different from me, was always eerily similar to me too.

I often said that Ookanuba and I had a relationship that was like the earth. On the outside shallow layer, The Crust, we had a lot of similarities. (Love for the Simpsons, Love/Hate for Madonna, passion for writing, quirky sense of humor, that born-in-Brooklyn toughness, an affinity for dropping the F-Bomb into casual conversation). The kind of thing that, if we met today at a party and had a conversation, would leave us saying, "Hey, that was one cool chick!"

Then, there was this whole layer, The Mantle, that didn't match up at all. Ookanuba can spend a week at Burning Man sleeping in the desert, decorating her boobs with a hand-sewn bra and peeing in a porta potty. Me ... not so much. I marked my first anniversary with Quibbit at The Four Seasons dressed in an impeccable black and white ensemble in matching 4 inch heels. Her ... not so much. Not saying I can't go without make up and she can't look exquisite. We can (and often do). We just gravitate more towards our own polarities. Basically it all falls under lifestyle choices. It's the stuff a lot of other people can't get past, especially in a new friendship. That whole layer contains all the deal-breakers for some. But I guess knowing someone your whole life makes you search deeper than these choices, till you get down to the core.

And it is down there, in our Core, where Ookanuba and I match up again. Because in the center of who we are we are exactly alike. Inquisitive. Always striving to find out WHY. Making sure we give ourselves (and each other) the bad news so that we can grow stronger and better. We create together. We bounce things off each other. We're each other's reality check. We're each other's best critic and loudest cheerleader.

So, while it's an amazing coincidence that Ookanuba was taking stock of her life that year at just the same time and had come to the same conclusion as me … it wasn't shocking. Just like the time we hadn't spoken for months and found that both of us were watching Madonna's Truth or Dare over and over and over again. That's just how we are. And so, it made sense that together we would create the Summer of Somehow.

The concept was simple: Empty your life completely. Then layer back in the things that are important to you. In between, allow for anything to happen, and believe that it all will work out – somehow.

This concept was based in part on a quote Ookanuba read to me from a Buckminster Fuller book -- where he explained that he found that when he gave fully of himself to others and found himself depleted and in most need of something, then … somehow … the thing he needed most came from the spot he least expected. An extraordinary and divine gift.

The Summer of Somehow yielded a lot … by Fall I was not only dating but completely in love with my Boo, Quibbit, who had literally (okay, figuratively) dropped out of the sky from the most unlikeliest of places. I'll write that story another time, because I want to do it justice and if I'm going to commit it to a spot for posterity it better be perfect. But even more amazing than finding this exquisite and perfect love, was to find this human being who understood what the Summer of Somehow, and the whole dang shebang that came after, really was all about. Someone who, in fact, had been practicing it in much the same way on his own long before he met me.

The Summer of Somehow didn't cure all, however, and lead quickly into what I called The Winter of "What now?" There were a lot of lulls, a lot of false starts and a lot of questioning why I wasn't just giving in. In all, the Summer of Somehow lasted 17 months ... and that's one heck of a summer.

So here's where everything dove tails …
Watching the Brighter Shade of Green presentation the other night I thought of that Buckminster Fuller quote (which I can't seem to find now), and I looked at the Fuller quote Ross Robinson had projected in front of me on the screen from I Seem to be a Verb, and I thought about all the passages in people's writing that gets quoted … and how all the words surrounding the brilliant quotes go unattributed, and yet they provide the context.

And I thought about the Winter of What Now, when nothing much was happening, but how, when I look back, it provided context for why my life is so great right now. The highs aren't high without the lows, eh?

And then I looked at my life right now (and by "right now" I mean this very month) which is filled with certain difficult situations that I don't want to list here, and these difficult situations are triggering entire paradigm shifts, Luvvie-digm shifts really, and how these difficult situations are overwhelming me, keeping me in a holding pattern, a mental dog paddle.

And how these things have been keeping me from creating and contributing, and how I can't write blog entries because of it, and then, in a flash, it just all made sense that right now I'm living the context, I'm living the pause. The ellipse. And soon enough (because there's always a "soon enough") there will be a shake up for better or for worse, but as mundane as all these "right now" days seem to be, there's no denying they're filling in the paragraphs between the quotes that I'll lift later and refer to. And that, my dear, is just as important.

Side by Side by Luvviepuffaroo ... Episode 1

I never understood those who justify their whole poo-poohing of American Musical theatre with the tired cliché that "no one in real life ever spontaneously bursts into song". I've never heard anyone dismissing the ballet using the argument that "no one in real life ever spontaneously bursts into a grand jeté". Yet do they? I've never seen it. Come to think of it, no one in real life ever spontaneously swings on a web through the city or holds up a taxi with one finger or has 12 inch spikes spring out from their knuckles either, eh? Right little boy? So come on ... quit with the Musical bashing already. If there were no Stephen Sondheim there would be no Luvviepuffaroo because he literally soundtracked my life.

Git'cher self on over to my house on any weekend and you'll find me singing about washing the dishes or painting a wall or just walking down the stairs (with Quibbit joining in merrily, and at full voice). We've got a song for everything. Songs are fun.

Basically, I'm a big fan of any movie that sticks a musical interlude into the normal course of a conversation. This is why I've always been completely tickled by this scene from Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy.




However, in the tradition of "animate it and make it funnier" (well, I exclude A Scanner Darkly in this tradition) Steve Falzone brings it to a whole new level with this masterpiece:


By the time Legos get involved, it's sheer brilliance:


If this kinda spontaneous burst of song happened around my workplace I'd be so happy I'd probably do a grand jeté.

Seeing John Malkovich

Living in New York you see a lot of famous people around. Not that you ever get used to it ... there's always a little thrill when you see a celebrity in a place you're not expecting them to be. But, you know, this IS New York. You're bound to run into a star as you go about your own fabulous day.

Wednesday morning on my way to the subway I passed a row of movie trailers parked along the street and thought nothing of it. All very bla bla bla until I looked to the right and saw John Malkovich speaking very intently to a girl who was either a 19 year old PA or a 19 year old fan. Either way, he was being very intense. And this, only a week after running into Chloe Sevigny!

I happen to live in a very filmable area so it's normal to see those long trailers parked along my block. It's sometimes nice but mostly annoying -- like when you're trying to have a romantic baloney sandwich with your Boo on the promenade in the moonlight and get shushed off your bench because it's a "closed set".

I once kept a list of every celebrity I ever bumped into but it was on some hard drive that crashed and I never tried to re-create it. Until now.

A short list of the celebrity encounters (which I can remember) in no particular order and by no means all inclusive:

• Seeing Maria Shriver in the ladies room when I worked at Time Magazine


• Seeing James Earl Jones pass by my desk (again at Time) asking the executive assistant for coffee with "fake milk and fake sugar"


• Having Charles Durning hold the door for me on my way into work at Petersen Publishing
  


• Being in the elevator (at Time again) with Isabella Rosellini
  


• Seeing Rodney Dangerfield walking along a beach in Bel Air with a girl 1/4th his age


• Passing Mike Meyers as he contemplated going into Balthazar


• Seeing Kate Capshaw and Stephen Spielberg at Nobu the night I splurged and had a hugely expensive dinner with friends


• Seeing Buddy Hackett walking through the Noguchi Museum one afternoon


• Seeing Nipsey Russell coming out of a restaurant in midtown


• Seeing a very bony, totally scary looking Melanie Griffith sitting in the window of Thalia


• Having Captian Jean-Luc Picard (okay … Patrick Stewart) sit at the table behind me in a Mexican restaurant on the Upper East Side and trying not to hang on every word coming out of his mouth in that gorgeous voice of his
  


• Bumping into Caroline Rhea near Rockefeller Center


• Seeing a tiny tiny Joan Rivers come out of The American Airlines Theatre


• Watching Geraldo Rivera strut so comically down the street in front of the ICP that I thought he was doing it to be funny. Turns out he's just cocky.


• Attending an all star (Meryl Streep, Kevin Kline, Christopher Walken, Natalie Portman, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Marcia Gay Harden, John Goodman) performance of The Seagull at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park and spotting Alec Baldwin and Candice Bergen in the audience while I sat right behind Christoper and Dana Reeves


• Seeing Alec Baldwin again later in the park after the performance (I'm not kidding) shouting at someone on his cell phone. (Too long ago to be his daughter, but maybe it was Kim).


• Being introduced to Gloria Steinem by a mutual friend at an event and having her graciously say "hello" and then ask "Do you know where my coat is?"


• Years later, seeing Alec Baldwin (again!) come out of a Union Square movie trying to ignore the crowd calling out to him
  


• Seeing Brooke Shields on the subway
  


• Catching Al Sharpton's eye as he was making a speech to the cameras and have him stutter when I winked flirtatiously (back when I was a cute 19 year old PA for an investigative news show)


• Watching Mikhail Baryshnikov during practice rehearsal at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center
  


• Seeing Paul Giamatti just hanging out in front of a store around the corner from my house soon after Sideways came out
  


• Seeing John Gotti having a nice sit-down in Little Italy and hearing the guy in front of me say "You know, I’m not gay, but that John Gotti is one good looking guy!"


• Standing behind Robert Klein in a crowd scene (when I was an extra) during the filming of Next Stop Wonderland
  


• Seeing Ed Koch in front of the Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center
  

• Seeing Eric Bogosian brooding on the subway
  


• Being alone with Mario Bosquez in the elevator … and watching him close his eyes so he wouldn’t have to speak with me when I turned to smile at him
  


• Being introduced to Richard Metzger after he gave a presentation at a Howard Bloom event I was involved with

• Seeing Boy George who, after hours of performing at a record store and signing autographs, STILL had a better makeup job than me


• Seeing Pope John Paul address the crowd from his summer home, Castel Gandolfo, in Italy


• Getting my picture taken with Rudy Giuliani during Sport Magazine's Christmas party (we were sharing the venue with the Fire Department's Christmas Party. He'd come to celebrate with them, but got us too).


• Having Charles Shaughnessy come up and ask me and some friends "What's this line for?" as we were going into The Town Hall. Richard Avedon was in the audience with us listening as Woody Allen and Steve Martin read pieces they'd written for the New Yorker

• Seeing José Eber in the reception area of Sassy Magazine
  

• Seeing Michael Badalucco on the R train in Brooklyn graciously smile as a guy came up to him and said "My wife makes me watch The Practice ... so I know you're famous from that ... otherwise I wouldn't know who you are ..."
  

• Sitting in the same row as Andrew Lloyd Webber at a performance of Bombay Dreams


• Taking meetings with an out-of-drag Lady Bunny in my short-lived stint as a comedy writer for her sketch comedy show that never got off the ground


• Trailing behind Danny DeVito and Rhea Pearlman at a street fair a few days after Cheers aired their last episode


• Seeing Tom Hulce milling around the audience the night I went to see a screening of Amadeus at a Monday Nights with Oscar event
  


• Seeing Margaret Cho come to a screening of her film, Notorious C.H.O. at Time Inc's joint GLBT/Asian Society (or as my friend called it, the Gaysian Society) event


• Having John Waters sign my copy of Hairspray and ignore me during my sycophantic gushing ... even though I was the only one on line


• Meeting Lidia Bastianich at her restaurant Felidia two of the three times I was there

• Getting an interview with former SNL producer (and ex Woody Allen friend) Jean Doumanian and blowing my chance at working for her by telling her I'd read all about her in a book that painted her as an evil witch
  

Well, that's all I can remember for now. But if you're someone famous and want to get on my list ... contact me! We'll arrange an obscure place to bump into each other. Then, voila! You're on my list. And congratulations to you on that.

Dueling Evitas ~OR~ Shut up, Patti LuPone!

There's an episode of Will & Grace where Jack tries to ignore Patti LuPone as she chatters, crawls around on the floor, and just generally makes herself un-ingnorable. At one point he screams "Shut up Patti LuPone! Shut your brassy, magnificent trap!!!"

She turns around and deadpans … "They either love me or they hate me." I laughed. I laughed because I ... hate her. Those are HER WORDS ... (though they're mine too).

Don't get me wrong. I don't hate her personally ... I just can't stand the way she sings. I'm sure if I had to sit next to her at a gala dinner she'd be pleasant enough company. (Note to the committee planning any gala dinner party to which I am invited: Please don't seat me next to Patti LuPone despite what I just said.)

I remember complaining to a co-worker about how I couldn't stomach her strident braying which evaporated every drop of sensitivity that moistened the sappy I Dreamed a Dream (which, I admit, is my most favorite song from Les Miz because I, myself, am sappy and dripping with syrup). In fact, before I read the liner notes and found out it was her I remember complaining loudly (and often) "Whoever sings that song does that annoying Patti LuPone thing". Leave it to Patti LuPone to do that annoying Patti LuPone thing.

Sure, she starts off making you feel all sorry for her with her plaintive "There was a time … it all went wrong." But by the time she gets to "I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I'm living" I'm always left clutching my ears and thinking how much less her life would be hell if she could only learn to speak softly and not FORCE every note from her "brassy trap", in that manner that makes her sound like a senior citizen at the early bird special in Boca Raton demanding that the staff put out more croutons and Roquefort dressing in the all-you-can-eat salad bar ... because they've run out AGAIN.

I still love the song. I still hate Patti LuPone.

This co-worker thought he would deflate me by (after my rant) declaring "Patti's a friend of the family" (I think he delivered the line with an arched brow). Sure, I mentally stumbled a bit and the starf*cker inside me shouted "Oooooh boy! Can I meet her!!!! Can I got to a gala dinner with her!!!" But I actually stood my ground and held fast to my opinion and declared, with a toss of my head, "I still don't like her so I don't apologize".

Later that year I went with this friend and some others to see Sweeney Todd in concert. The lead was sung by George Hearn (love love LOVE) and Neil Patrick Harris was there, singing his little heart out too. (Who could resist him as he cooed "Nothin's gonna harm you ... not while I'm around"?) Of course Patti "couldn't pick a worse choice for Mrs. Lovitt if you tried" LuPone was also there, pushing her voice through the notes so hard that I though she was trying to power the whole eastern seaboard with her singing alone. It almost ruined the whole experience for me except 1) I got to see George Hearn reprise the role I'd taped off of PBS when I was a teen and 2) Stephen Sondheim made a surprise appearance at the curtain call and I just about fainted and clapped so much it was as if I were trying to power the whole eastern seaboard with clapping alone. Small aside ... I could never be sure but I was almost CERTAIN that one Ms. Monica (dry-cleaning-is-for-suckers ... wait ... I mean NOT-dry-cleaning-is-for-suckers) Lewinsky was in attendance that evening as well. What she was doing there I don't know. Possibly waiting around to flirt with Doogie Howser. See, she's like that -- always picking the wrong guy.

That was also the night I found out that when my co-worker said that Patti was a "friend of the family" he actually meant a "friend of a FRIEND". And Patti was not so much a "friend of" a friend so much as a "person being stalked by" a friend. So.

When Evita came out in the late 70s the commercials were blasted at me every afternoon during Texas, a short-lived but memorable (at least to me) spin off of Another World. It starred Beverlee McKinsey as Iris Carrington in all her blond dameness ("dame" as in "what's a dame like you doing in a gin joint like this?" ... not "Dame" as in Dame any-British-actress-name-here) along with a bunch of other people who I don't remember because they weren't dames ... which is what I wanted to become when I was a child. A gum chewin' street talkin' dame. (I think I just about made it to 'broad' some time around 5 years ago ... then slid back into 'ma'am'.) So obsessed was I with Iris Carrington that my incessant chatter about her influenced my friend Ookanuba to use the name "Iris" in her very frightening one-page stage play "A Terror for Iris". (Admittedly part of Ookanuba's Juvenilia Canon but nonetheless BRILLIANT.)

There was another character, Kurt Laverty, who my mother and I subsequently saw one year in the late 70s at the Feast of San Gennaro in Little Italy. We promptly followed him around all afternoon watching him and his wife and children. On the way back we bumped into Stiller & Meara. (If you make me qualify that by adding "You know ... Ben Stiller's parents" I will have to take you to school.) New York was like that in those days, with random celebrities popping up during the normal course of a day. (Though truth be told it's like that today too ... I just bumped into Chloe Sevigny yesterday on West 4th and Perry Street ... but I was jabbering on my cell and trying to navigate to Charles Street so I was not that interested in Ms. Sevigny in all her downtown glory.) Point being, I know what it's like to stalk someone for an afternoon. A little boring. Very much. Very boring.

Anyway, I watched Texas every afternoon and the Evita commercial played every afternoon and so my childhood was impressed with this image of Patti stretching out her arm and beseeching Mandy Patinkin to "not keep his distance" and braying "just a little touch of Star Quality" so unintelligibly that for years I had no idea what she was saying. The commercial fascinated me. Her voice distracted me. The whole thing disturbed me. I was hooked on hating her.

So of course you have to understand my complete dismissal of EVITA until many many years later when, in the zenith of my Madonna Worship I lived the story of her journey to play Evita on the big screen. I knew of her seven page entreaty to Alan Parker. I saw her "Take a Bow" video which was shot as such a period piece that there was no mistaking that she was auditioning for the role to the whole wide world. Of course there's also the sub-plot ... Madonna's jump-the-gun ("I'll probably never get married, so I might as well keep this baby since I'm not getting any younger") pregnancy which was kept a secret from Alan Parker until there was no more denying it ... leaving Mr. Parker to cleverly try and disguise her tummy with purses and a children's chorus during the shooting.

The movie (and it's very long lead-in) coincided with me being downsized from a job that was too small for me anyway so I had nothing better to do than spend 6 months rehearsing in my apartment, memorizing the EVITA album and ultimately getting so good at my living room performance that I was able to bring myself to tears EVERY TIME I sang the grand death scene. EVERY TIME. This is a skill shared by me and only one other actress. Yes, Meryl Streep. Just the two of us can cry so convincingly take after take. That's right. JUST US.

At some point, just because the Madonna soundtrack was on a never ending loop I broke down and bought the Patti LuPone version in order to do some field research ... to better round out my nightly living room performances. I think I managed to listen to the Patti version once.

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't consider Madonna the better Evita. Or the better singer, really. Or even the more interesting personality. Not by a long shot. And while I find her softer take on Evita more palatable it is NOT a better interpretation and really only speaks to the limited range of Madonna's acting ability which was only as good as it was because she didn't have to speak. (This is how Holly Hunter won her best actress award for The Piano, you know.) Despite my obsession, I always saw this for what it was: Madonna wanting to be considered a credible actress and refusing to admit that that ship had sailed. To Shanghai, I think. What a surprise.

So ... my vote for best Evita? It's obvious. Elaine Paige.