What Do Vampires Do Best?

Suck. And, if that's the case, then Lestat: The Musical did a helluva job. It was bad y'all, and I feel bad saying that because I was so excited to see it. But, by Act II I was looking in my PlayBill trying to count how many songs were left until the travesty was over.

Let me move on to something positive before my mascara runs ...



On a good note, a new musical comedy called The Drowsy Chaperone is a must see. It has everything you want in a Broadway show: Singing, comedy, amazing costumes, dancing and no intermission! Seriously, why do shows still have intermission? Does any one ever get to use the bathroom before the 2nd Act starts? And, theater seats are too damned cramped for me to keep getting up and down, up and down, for people. I paid to see a friggin' show, not to work on my leg muscles. PEE BEFORE YOU GO TO THE SHOW AND SIT YOUR ASS DOWN!

"What The Hell?!" of the Moment

What the hell is up with sales receipts? I bought a small bottle of water this evening at Duane Reade, and the cashier gave me a receipt that looked like a friggin' Miss America sash.

What could possibly be so important to warrant further printing? All I need to see is the item and proof that I paid for it. That's it. I don't need a coupon, my lucky numbers for the day, my horoscope , or the history of how Duane met Reade and they lived happily ever after selling Vicks Vapor Rub and sanitary napkins. Plus, aren't we supposed to be conserving paper? Asses.

"What The Hell?!" of the Moment

Every weekday morning, on my way to work, I have to cross the street at Delancey & Clinton. It's the location where most cars getting off of the Williamsburg Bridge turn, so you can probably guess that it's a busy area, especially during rush hour.

Can someone please explain to me where the friggin' fire is? Because without fail, every morning, individuals seem to have a problem waiting for the signal that allows them to cross Delancey & Clinton safely.

Singles, people in groups, people with small children, just prance (not run, but prance) across the busy ass street like they're invisible. GET THE #$%& OUT OF THE WAY! And, that's just what's going on in my mind while I'm standing on the corner waiting for the signal. I can just imagine what drivers think.

What the hell is so special on the other side of the street, that you have to risk your life to get over there? It's Delancey Street for goodness sake! What? Is there a hot sale at Rainbow? Is PePe's Joyeria giving away jewelry for free? NO HE ISN'T! So, slow your asses down!

Crush of the Moment

Bradley Cooper
(Failure to Launch, Wedding Crashers)

Do I need to even post a reason why he is my crush of the moment? Look at him! I wanna swim in those baby-blues.

But, in case you want some stats, here ya go:

Bradley was born in Philly (YAY, I lived there once) in 1975, and he's 6'1" tall. Annnnnd, my thorough Google-ing has shown that he is unmarried. You know what that means? Now that I've tagged him, a 'lil gay dust will be sprinkled on him (right AJ?).

Enjoy him while you can ladies, because knowing how I am, he's gonna be next week's Page Six blind item. Damn, damn, damn.

Kids These Days

Dineen and I entered the elevator in my apartment building this evening. The elevator is being renovated, and we noticed that wooden boards were placed on the floor. In the corner, we saw that someone had taken a marker and drew [side note: is that a word?] a big heart with the initials "FN" and "EC". I said to Dineen, "Do we have kids in this building?" Laughing, she says, "No."

We go upstairs to my parents apartment and hang out for a while. Then the mystery is discovered! Our father, Fred, marked up the elevator floor with that 'lil shout out of love to our mother, Elizabeth. What, are they 10?

After I threw up, I realized how cute it is that Dad would do that. Aww, you crazy kids you!

Come On! Who are you trying to kid?

Recently, my sister Dineen and I went to see "The Wedding Singer on Broadway." Good show, go see it ... but that is besides the point. My rant today is about men who wear toupees.

I'm not against toupee/wig wearers. I am, however, against men who wear artificial hair pieces that look NOTHING like natural hair. Rather, they look like old bathroom mats that a cat clawed at frequently ... MEOW!

Alls I'm saying is, if you're not ready to face the fact that you're bald, and want to wear a piece, at least purchase a piece that has some resemblance to human hair ... Not some flammable tarp that city-dwellers use to make their apartment balconies look like they really grow grass. You're not fooling any one.

Embrace your baldness. You probably look much better bald any way. I mean, look at these fine bald men: