So, last night the Giants won the superbowl. This means nothing to me except that my trip home was like Beyond Thunderdome with a working subway system. Lots of screaming and punching and jumping. Then someone pooped themselves in my car and it became more like Murder on the Orient Express. Whodunit!?
None of the stuff I am into illicits that sort of reaction. No one leaves Broadway shows screaming “CHENOWETH!!!” or “MOTHERFUCKING OSAGE COUNTY, bitches!!” No, my people go for cappuccino and cake and pleasantly discuss the show while silently wondering when their spouses became so sexually unappealing. Or they buy the cast album and run home to cry and secretly masturbate to stills in the insert. Either way, they are not turning over cabs to celebrate Cassie winning a spot in the chorus.
I don’t know, I guess I was just raised wrong. My dad is British and my mother is a bone china teacup. What do they know about football? Not much. (But a LOT about tea.)
In other news, I also won last night. Just Talk was awarded the Audience Favorite prize at the First Sunday screening.
congrats!
It did win. I voted for it.
On viewing it, I thought, “good.”
On hearing it was a two-day production, I thought, “very good.”
On learning it was a two-day production, and your first film, I realized, “very, very good.”
(‘Course, you heard all this at the afterparty!)
All best with the next one,
–Craig W.
Congrats, you Southern.…Lady?
Congratulations… (I like to spell the whole word).….
Woo!
I so yell Chenoweth!! Anytime someone sneaks up on me, or something surprises me inadvertently, I yell it in honor of her sneaking up on CJ on the West Wing.
Chenoweth!!
Go, Giants!!! (says Miz Bone China)