A Night At The Musical Theater

So we went to the City last evening to take in a show of I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change, a supposedly awesome musical about relationships. Now is the part where I’m supposed to say “But it wasn’t bad at all! It was great!” Nope, it was pretty bad. Watch me a make a musical about relationships:

Act I
woman: “I’m afraid I will end up alone!”
man: “beer! football! machismo!”
woman: “You don’t satisfy me in bed! I’m calling a lawyer!”
man: “How long are we going to be shoe shopping?!”
woman: “I’m afraid to get married! I don’t want kids!”
man: “We’ve been married for twelve years and we’re gonna have sex tonight for the first time in forever!”

All this musical did was puke up a bunch of extremely wince-inducing stereotypes about women and men and expect me to laugh uproariously at them. About halfway through the show I figured that maybe since I’ve dated one person from 17 years old until today, and that I’m now married to that person, perhaps I wasn’t in the target demographic of neurotic middle-aged women and egotistical middle-aged men that the play so desperately strived for. By the end of the show I could only think of one word that correctly described what I had just witnessed:

Pablum, complete and utter pablum.

BUT, and this is a big BUT, the evening was saved before the show even started. Since we were in San Francisco and going to an event, we were naturally late. Only about two minutes late, but the doors had already been shut. The usher would not seat us since the musical had begun. She said we (a group of 8 or so) would have to wait until after the opening number. We said, “ok” and waited to be led to our seats. While we were doing so a couple walked up and demanded to be seated. The usher gave them the same speech that they would be seated after the opening number. The wife was being a hirrible bitch, complaining about how, at the Napa Valley Opera House, the show started at 8:05 if the ticket said 8:00. The usher, who is now one of my personal heroes, argued back and forth with her that this was the policy, etc. Then, in the greatest all-time exchange in usher history, the following happened verbatim:

bitch: “bitch, bitch, bitch…”
usher: “Well, ma’am, I’m very sorry you were late to the show.”
bitch: “Excuse me? Did you just say what I think you just said to me?”
usher: “I’m sorry, what I meant to say was that I’m sorry the show started on time.”
bitch: *speechless*
me: “hahahahahahahaha”

–whazz on

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