Or, as I like to call it, "Harry Potter Penis."
I don't think I could be more excited.
Wait, does that make me a pedophile? Don't answer that.
I'm going to see the show with my mother, because she's really into bonding before I leave (one week left--aaaahhh!). However, we usually go see musicals since we love a good spectacle. Although we've been talking about seeing Wicked for ages, I just felt it was behoovy of me to see the nude frame of the only man I'll ever love.
The play is a bit strange and involves horses, bestiality, and psychotherapy. I've already been sent several links to blurry camera-phone pictures of Mr. Potter's magic wand, but they do not do the boy wizard justice.
My mother is a bit put off by my interest in HP's...P. How does it make you feel? I think was gets her the most is that I refuse to call him by his real name. She says, "It's as though you can't separate Daniel Radcliffe from the movie character. They aren't the same."
"Um, YOU'RE not the same, lady!"
Sometimes I'm not very clever.
I'll be sure to provide a detailed synopsis and play by play of...the play--and Harry's um, major prop first thing tomorrow.
OH MY GOD. LOOK AT THAT BANGIN' BOD. I WILL GET TO SEE HIM WITHOUT PANTS.
1 comment:
This is probably because I've already heard about the majority of what's going on in this post, but my favorite part was the all-caps finale.
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