Skip to main content

what's new?

Man.  I keep up with this blog like I do my journal.  It's really not promising.  However!  Tonight I have reason to celebrate and reason to write.  It's official...

Newsies is coming to Broadway!!! 

That's right.  I'm pretty sure Christian Bale won't be reprising his role and they've added a female reporter, so I just need to spend my time between now and Opening Night finding ways to cope with what will be some inevitable disappointment.

There's a lot of talk swirling about the timliness of the release with the Occupy Wall Street movement sweeping the nation.  All I can say is if the Occupy Wall Street protesters learned to sing and dance like Jack Kelly, Davey, Racetrack, Crutchy, Spot Conlon, Boots, and Mush than I wouldn't care that I have no idea what specifically they're actually protesting.

The release is good timing, too, since I can also offically report that I have a job. Don't get too excited, I'm only nannying, but it will pay the bills and get me out of the apartment. AND it will pay for a plane ticket to New York...did I seriously just say that? Sick.

Now, if only a musical version of Face Off could find it's way onto the Great White Way (that's Broadway slang), my life would be complete.

What would you put on Broadway and who would you cast??

Comments

  1. I would love The Big Lebowski on Broadway. Original movie cast included, except for Tara Reid, who should probably be in rehab.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

is this thing on??

I am doing this in an effort to be more organized with my time, to hold myself accountable for doing purposeful things, to connect to a new community, and to find some sacred space in which to do...whatever.  But in this, my first night of blogging, I'm finding I'm incredibly stressed out.  What a lot of pressure for something that may, or most likely will not, be read by someone who doesn't already know me.  I must admit, after about 45 minutes of thinking of a witty, clever, insightful, and original title (I ended up stealing mine from Ben Sollee.  It's a great song, check it out), I started to have second thoughts about this whole blogging thing.  But I (we?) press on. I guess there aren't really any rules so I'll start easy.  I'm going to list the reasons this makes me uncomfortable.  It goes back to holding myself accountable for my insecurities and one of the blogging websites said that readers find lists agreeable.  So we're off...

in keeping with tradition

So it's Lent.  Big excitement.  I made fasnachts yesterday after work.  I love them, and the tradition in my family of making them.  I look forward to it every year.  Until it gets here and I actually have to do it.  Perhaps its because the last several years when I've made them I've done so alone.  Baking is always more fun with someone else.  As tradition dictates (i.e. what my dad did), I have to start the dough the Monday night before Fat Tuesday.  I'm pretty sure tradition also dictates that I don't start the process until, like, 11 pm.  So, I obliged.  By midnight I'd produced a giant bowl of potato dough, a mess in the kitchen, and a stomachache from eating said potato dough.  Tradition then dictates that you wake up way too early (6ish) to roll out all the dough, let it rise again, cut it into doughnut shapes, poke holes in it, fry it (all 60 some doughnuts), and sugar bomb them.  I set my alarm.  I did....

The Inspiration of Ben Sollee

I decided in fourth grade that I would be a cello player.  It happened during one of my sister's orchestra concerts I was undoubtedly forced to attend; during an upbeat and peppy number, with lots of minor and mediocre choreography so as not to confuse the grade school children, the sixth graders spun their cellos.  Right then and there I decided I, too, would play the cello. And I guess my parents thought so too, because soon after I was the sole possessor of a beautiful, half size, Engelhardt cello.  A month or so in, however, I realized it took a lot of work to actually play the cello.  A waste of time, it seemed, to a precocious nine year old who had TV to watch and barbies to play with.  Plus, I could already spin it fine - I had that down after, like, 2 practice days. Bet he had to practice to do that. I don't remember how long I kept up the ruse of playing an instrument.  I'd go in my room to practice, hit a few strings (I ...