"Monkey On A Pedestal"

On Wednesday evening I had the pleasure of a girls' night out with one of my oldest friends. I'm sure you've all heard that adage that old friends are the best. I believe that's true, although I'm not sure if it's because we actually like them more or because they have way more blackmail material on us and we don't want to tick them off. :-) But seriously, I've known Lisa since we were five and she is the one that knows all my deepest, darkest, and most embarrassing secrets. Although we keep in touch via e-mail and blog, we don't see each other nearly as often as we should. So it was a real pleasure to have an evening together!

We went to dinner and then we saw "The Drowsy Chaperone" at the Capitol Theater (Thank you, thank you, Lisa!!). I walked in knowing nothing about the show (an unusual circumstance for me) and was overwhelmingly surprised by how much I loved it. The narrator in the show (Man In Chair) was played by a Canadian actor by the name of Jonathan Crombie. That's right, ladies. Gilbert Blythe. In the flesh. Of course, the character he played in this production wasn't exactly the strong, sensitive man that Anne fell in love with. In fact, it wasn't even close. But in spite of that, listening to the chit chat before and after the show was like being caressed by a constant whisper of, "Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert . . ."

The show itself was a romp through the world of musical theater. It mocked (to the glee of the audience, of course) many common and often overused plot devices that occur in musicals. We're talking about the classic dumb blond, the gangsters disguised as regular folk (pastry chefs on this occasion), the European self-proclaimed ladies' man, lovely melodies coupled with really lousy lyrics, etc, etc. We were also provided with a running commentary on theater etiquette and what runs through one's head while watching a show. I laughed myself silly.

I won't bore you with more, but will conclude with one completely true fact I gleaned from the show: "Everything always works out in musicals. In the real world, nothing ever works out and the only people who burst into song are the hopelessly deranged." Which means, of course, that I'm definitely deranged. And so is most of my family, for that matter. And also a large percentage of my friends . . .