The Sarah Silverman movie was good, but it didn't, you know, give you any kind of insight into what she thinks about anything; it was basically just an hour and a half of pretty good stand-up. My favorite bit was probably the one she did at the beginning about de-boning Ethiopian babies to get at the precious "jewels" in their tailbones. "They have to... de-bone the babies," she said. She is cute as all get-out, I tell you. Hard to believe that she's going out with Jimmy Kimmel.
One of The Rase's friends got us SRO tickets to Sweeney Todd last weekend, which was, I hear, "so exciting that it is almost unbearable" for the theater critic from some New York paper. I don't know if I'd go that far, but it was pretty great as far as musicals go -- neat staging, good singing, etc., and the cast doubled as the orchestra, which was novel if not explicable. And this musical is probably the most operatic and least... catchy of all of Sondheim, in my limited experience. Here's the thing, though -- I find it harder, as time goes on, not to find musical theater anything but grotesque, in a way that regular theater isn't. Is that weird? It's just so hard to get over the idea that breaking into song is anything but ridiculous. Also, there was a little inset in the Playbill from the Broadway Cares AIDS charity that segued into asking for money by claiming that the chorus' demand that we "attend the tale of Sweeney Todd" is some kind of acknowledgment of the common tie that binds us all through triumph and tragedy, etc., etc. I'm pretty sure that's not what it means, but, you know, what do I know?
On Thursday I finished the nth-hundredth test case for this little software package I'm working on and put together a release, which made me feel pretty good. And then five minutes later I got back to thinking about how much more work there is to be done.
Last night I went out with Tom and Ted and The Rase to Great Lakes (after cramming in a gross burger at Bonnie's Grill), and when we got up to leave, I couldn't find my backpack. I'd probably have just written it off as lousy luck, but Tom insisted that we search the area, and we ended up finding a bag that nobody near our table would lay claim to and that was identical to mine except that it had a whole bunch of different stuff in it (laptop, wallet, etc.). So I wrote a note explaining that we thought someone had grabbed mine by mistake -- and it would have had to have been a pretty big mistake, considering that all mine had in it was my skinny little journal of "important thoughts" and a paperback copy of Phineas Finn -- and gave the other person's backpack to the bartender. Sure enough, about an hour after I got home I got a call from the owner of the backpack confirming the switcheroo and that she'd dropped mine off at the bar. Luckily Tom was still there and brought mine back to his house. But the story doesn't end there: I got a couple of phone calls this morning (that I let the machine handle) at like 5:00 AM from this unlucky girl who was wondering whether I'd accidentally taken the iPod out of her bag. Pretty sure I didn't, and pretty sure it was still in her bag when I gave it to the bartender, so... good luck with all that. We'll see what happens.
I'm shopping online for Christmas presents.
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