Monday, May 22, 2017

A Rare Form of B.S.W.

(Sherman Oaks) The blog must go on. A case of jetlag and an inexplicable fear of airport delays jeopardized the Short Jewish Gal's ability to write her blog this morning. There were reports that another blogger might step in and ghostwrite her blog for her. But then her ex-allergist, who retired but still knows an emergency from a pathetic cry for help, stopped by and diagnosed her with a rare form of BSW. "She's got Broadway Show Withdrawal," the doctor said. "A minute ago, she couldn't stop singing 'Hello, Dolly.' To shut her up, I gave her a nice big shot of something wonderful and told her to stay away from pollen. She's fine now, I think, but with her, you never know. Just don't ask her to reenact 'The Great Comet of 1812.'  You're asking for trouble. Plus, she might throw a perogi or a mini-maraca at you and put out an eye." After her doctor left, the SJG stood on her front step and shouted in a hoarse but meaningful voice, "I'm here, bitches. I'm ready to blog." She went on to blog with no apparent problems.

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Don't Remind Me

Despite several testy calls to the front desk, no one from housekeeping showed up this morning to make the bed and fold the towels and make everything pretty. As is my way, I complained bitterly to hubby. "What kind of hotel is this?" Hubby reminded me, "We're no longer at a hotel." Then I reminded him, "I'm sick and can't be held responsible for my irrational thoughts." Then he reminded me, "You got sick after our NYC trip last year." Then I said, "Don't remind me." On a Sunday morning, in between dabbing my nose like a society lady, and kvetching like a whiny lil' bitch, I can only conclude that either I'm allergic to New York, or reality.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Sorry For The Inconvenience

At first, it didn't sound so terrible. A 5 o'clock flight out of JFK was delayed an hour. No big deal. Then an hour became an hour and a half. Then another hour. Then there was the brief mention of a "mechanical issue." Then there was a terminal change and a long walk to Gate B-Something. Then a jaunty shuttle ride to Terminal Confusion, Gate Who Cares. Does anybody know what flight we're on? Anybody? And where we're sitting on the plane? And what's our departure time? 8:05? 8:0... Oh, eff that, I'm not asking anymore. 
Then this: The SJG captured in all my frustration and exhaustion. I've never looked lovelier. All I know is the plane finally took off at some point. And at some point -- 2 a.m.? 2:15? -- we arrived in Sherman Oaks, where we belong.

Friday, May 19, 2017

Step and Repeat

"Step right up to the CW Upfront. Actually, please stay in your seat unless you're an important TV star. Are you listening, SJG?" 
Gina Rodriguez, star of "Jane The Virgin," steps right up and does the "Step and Repeat" in front of the CW corporate logo. The what? According to hubby, the stars "step and repeat" interviews in front of this snazzy backdrop. That sounds fun. Like a dance step! Why don't I try it? Don't mind if I do.
The SJG does the "Step and Repeat" for hubby. In all the excitement, I forgot to flash the jazz hands. @#$%! Maybe next year. 

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Dolly & Natsha & Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812

On a hot, muggy NYC day, it was a dream come true to see Bette Midler in my all-time favorite show "Hello, Dolly!" I was so happy, so gleeful, so completely giddy, that I had to fight the urge to sing every song out loud. All it took was one dirty look from the lozenge-sucking gal next to me to get myself under control. That's how far I've come. Aren't you proud of your SJG? But come on! Bette and David Hyde Pierce starring in the greatest, funniest Broadway extravaganza? Best. Time. Ever. I may never get over it. Never!
I know, I know, Josh Groban looks a lot like Tevya. But get a grip, nice people. He's Pierre. 
Two shows in one day? What am I, crazy? A little bit, or a lot, depending on the angle. "Natasha, Pierre and The Great Comet of 1812" is the craziest pop opera this dainty-ass Jew has ever seen. Good thing Bubbles was with me to interpret and join in the silliness of it all. The audience gets pulled into the show at every turn. At one point, Bubbles and I were part of the musical accompaniment. I'm serious. We think we deserve compensation. Don't worry, we've got our attorneys on it. In the meantime, I wish I could tell you what this wild Russian show is about, but it's beyond my limited, overly-pollenated brain. I mean, there's a chart in the program with arrows and everything. Let's just say it's an avant garde, wackadoodle, super-inspired musical take on "War & Peace" and you can't hum a song from this circus to save your life.
And yet... it's fabulous. At least, that's what Bubbles tells me and I believe her. 

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Tuesday In The Park With Bubbles

Bubbles, aka Debbi Fuhrman, at the entrance 
of Central Park, sitting on art.

What kind of art? A recreated ritzy Gilded Age ballroom. 
Naturally, Bubbles and I felt right at home. 

I know, I know, you don't want I should get too artsy on you. 
So here's a pretty shot of Central Park.

Okay, back to the art, this time at the Met: 
George Seurat's Circus Sideshow.

Once again, Bubbles and the SJG fit right in. 

Moments before the amazing, emotional roller coaster 
ride of "Dear Evan Hansen." Lucky me, I got to see it 
with Connie Ray, star of telly, stage and screen. One of us wept 
uncontrollably. Hint: it wasn't the non-thespian.

Ben Platt, star and future Tony winner. It was so nice of him
to pose for this photo. What a mensch. 

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Walking Small

... unlike these two, who tower over me

All I do is walk, walk, walk in NYC, yesterday over four miles' worth. I walk here, I walk there, and at some point after all the walking, I get so pooped out, I need to sit down in the hotel bar and recover with a nice glass of Pinot Grigio. If a handsome hunky actor from my favorite show happens to be nearby within staring distance, even better. "Honey," I whisper to hubby, conveniently located next to me, "it's that guy I love." "What guy?" "That guy from 'Lost.' " "Where?" "There! On the sofa." "Cool." "He played.... what's his name? Jin! And now he's on 'Hawaii Five-O' but who cares about that?" "Go say hi." "I couldn't." "Go on." "You want me to go say hello to... to.. oh, eff, what the hell is his name?" At this juncture, I start googling.
Daniel Dae Kim

"Daniel Dae Kim?!" "Go on." "Really?" "You can do it." So I stand up, feeling bold, feeling strong, and right then, our very tall friend Mark arrives, and there are hugs and happy greetings and by the time we sit down, Daniel Dae Kim... oh, it pains me to tell you... is gone. But don't cry, nice people. I still have today to stalk see him, and maybe even tomorrow. The CBS Upfront isn't till Wednesday. Hope isn't lost. I'll just sit here in the bar till he shows up again.