Friday, July 27, 2007

TGI Friggs Day

Friday was named after some Germanic goddess of beauty ("Frigg" or "Friya"). Personally, I prefer the Russian or Portuguese way of referring to it (the "fifth day" in Russian, "sixth" in Portuguese. Apparently that depends on when (and if) you observe the Sabbath.

What's special about this Friday is:

a) there were no traffic catastrophes on the NJTurnpike on the inbound commute this morning (however, the day is young).

b) The Simpons Movie opened at midnight last night.

I won't be able to see it until Sunday (Sontag), though. Tomorrow I'm dragging my sorry ass out of bed to travel into Manhattan (which I'm really getting tired of doing) to see...

"Xanadu" the musical.

Based on one of the worst movies I ever saw, one which nearly ruined (well, it probably DID ruin) Olivia Newton-John's career when it bombed at the B.O. back in 1981. It also had the distinction of being Gene Kelly's last film.

However, according to everyone, it has become the hottest gay ticket on B'way this season, and many of my gay friends are PEA-GREEN with Envy!

Then, tomorrow night, I'm in Philly to attend a fundraiser for the upcoming Philadelphia Roundup in October.

Actually the event in Philly promises to be even gayer than the audience for Xanadu. It's a drag show entitled "Caftanistan". Since I'll be at the Roundup I thought it might be nice to attend one of the fundraisers for it.

So, tomorrow morning I drag myself out of bed, do my chores, take a train to Manhattan, see "Xanadu" (fortunately it's short - 90 minutes), catch a train BACK to Princeton, do some more chores then drive to Philly in time to catch the show at the Shakespeare Festival.

So maybe I'll see "The Simpsons Movie" on Sunday.

Or maybe I'll just spend the entire day in bed.... finishing the Harry Potter novel.

I am seriously behind in my entertainment.


Bev Sykes said...

So this isn't the time to tell you that Harry discovers that it was all a dream and that he wakes up a short little guy with furry feet holding this strange gold ring, huh?


JoyZeeBoy said...

Actually I thought it should end with Harry waking up in bed in the dark and shaking his wife, Suzanne Pleshette, awake and declaiming that he'd "had a horrible dream" and that he was actually a psychologist named Bob who lives with his wife in Chicago.