The MotherF**ker With the Hat: A Broadway Show

I had to explain it in the title so that no one would get upset.

Happy Wednesday, readers! Even though I'm bout ready to pass out, I've got to stick to my every-other-day rule.

Just got back from seeing the new Broadway show "The Motherf**ker with the Hat," starring Chris Rock, Annabella Sciora, and Bobby Canavale, and it was soooooo good!!! I have loved Bobby Cannavale since he was on "Will & Grace," and he was just beyond unbelievable. The emotions were at 10 from the beginning of the show, and they sustained it throughout.

Chris Rock was great (the character suited his style, and he was natural on stage), that Bobby Canavale is an out of this world actor, and the 100-minute show was relentless in its rapid-fire pacing.

Okay, enough Ebert-ing from me.

I went to see the show with my mom and my secretly-gay uncle, who's here for a week on vacation (he lives in The D--you know, where it's so cold). He's staying with me, and at first, I was nervous, as I've gotten quite accustomed to having my morning Saved-by-the-Bell-watching "me" time, and he is up with the sun and chatty-chatty. But the best part about secretly-gay uncle is that as a childless 60 year old, he's always happy to break a piece off to his young, gifted, and black(tress) niece. He also fancies himself an aesthete and mostly wants to spend his time in museums, but being from Detroit, he's very easily impressed (this became apparent when he raved about the service at the neighborhood Applebee's--bless).

He really enjoyed the show (not as good as Sister Act, which he loved), but our fun was dampened a few times during the show by some very ignorant audience members who acted as though they were watching a damn movie! During Chris Rock's first scene, an audience member yells out "Love you, Chris Rock!" and totally threw him off. Rock even turned out a little bit and said, "What did you just say? I just forgot my part" and he fumbled for a bit while Cannavale--ever the professional--fed him a trigger to get him back up to speed.
This isn't a fucking Bieber concert--you can't be yelling out like Chris is gonna bring you on stage and serenade you!
After sharing a three-way look, my mom, uncle, and I see an usher tap a young black guy on the shoulder--he was the yeller.
This is why black people can't have nice things, y'all.

Toward the end of the play, during a really emotional scene, another knucklehead yells out to Bobby Cannavale, "We love you, Jackie [the character's name in the show]!"
What the?! When did Broadway become a scene out of Dangerous Minds? As much as I love Chris Rock bringing all kinds of people to the theater, I think there needs to be a sobriety test or something before you're allowed to take your seat.

At the end of the show, the cast came out to their standing ovation and Cannavale talked about Broadway Cares. "You've been a really great audience--most of you," he began. He was instantly met with resounding applause. I could imagine being on that stage and being so pissed; I can't believe they were able to stay with it through that foolery. (the show was really intense, and although it was funny, it was very dark)

Secretly-gay uncle wants to see some more shows while he's here, so I may try to tag along. I want to see "Book of Mormon," but he's really itching to check out "Priscilla: Queen of the Desert."

See you Friday!

Oh Happy Day!!

In T minus 2.5 hours, I will be in the 3rd row orchestra of the Broadway play "Equus."
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.