Underground Old Woman Hatred

The other morning I was standing on the subway platform waiting for the train, which took FOREVER. Like that kid from The Sandlot, you know, "for-ev-er." Anyway, there was a little old lady with a pen in her hand in front of a Chase billboard. She looked around to make sure noone was watching, which, of course, I was. Anyway, she drew a large swastika on the person in the ad. Then, she drew two smaller ones near the bottom of the sign.

What? Not the image of graffiti artists that I had in mind, but, to each her own I guess. Either way, what was I supposed to do? Stop her? Nah, she might have been wielding a sharp kitchen knife under that floral-print blouse.

Graphic Subway Ride

Well, I thought I would talk about the last production in the City Center Encores! series which I saw last night, STAIRWAY TO PARADISE. I was going to write about how Ruthie Henshall (the only reason I wanted to see it) got shafted by getting only two songs two sing. Plus no one knew who the hell she was. How can you not know someone who has done so much, she doesn't even need to include the 10th anniversary LES MIZ concert in her bio?! Amazing.

I was going to say that although actress-turned-celebrity Kristin Chenoweth did too much and was just sticking to her usual antics that everyone so adores, she was very funny in her sketches and songs with clowns Kevin Chamberlin and Christopher Fitzgerald.

I was going to say all that. I was going to say I even enjoyed Jenn Gambatese.

But then I got on the subway to come home and I was leaning against the third door of the third car, just like I always do. And I was looking around at people, scoping out the general situation, just like I always do. And then I saw it. My stomach realized what was happening before my mind did. Mister Subway Stranger's (see yesterday's post) brother was holding his hand in front of his mouth. His eyes were wide and there was a look of panic behind them. As he moved swiftly to the door, waiting patiently for it to open, he was holding the vomit inside his mouth. Some of it escaped, though, and was dripping down his lips, over his chin and onto the floor of the car. TERROR! AWFUL! GROSS! SMELLY! YUCKY!

So, once I saw that, I couldn't write about the concert anymore. Tomorrow: blueberry muffins, or how I learned to eat something other than Timbits for breakfast.

Going Down in History

On the train home last night, after a long day of work and rehearsal, and before another long day of work and rehearsal, I smiled. Why? Because a strange weirdo was singing "Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer." Brilliant. Some people on the other side of train even started singing along. I was about two shakes away from adding "like a lightbulb!"