In the days of Oscar Wilde, the gays were able to spot each other in a crowd by a strategically placed green carnation often worn on the lapel. Nowadays, I’d say we’re most recognizable by our midweek hangovers. This morning (a Wednesday), for instance, there must have been about eight of them on my train. I could tell because gays are very fancy about their hangovers; they were all sipping - purse-lipped and expressionless - from traveling coffee mugs, and wearing Jackie O sunglasses and Aretha Franklin inauguration hats. Gays with hangovers headed to work always look like rich old women on their way to a high-class funeral. It’s funny to think that only six hours earlier, they were being removed by security from some skanky, dimly-lit dive in the West Village for climbing on top of the bar and attempting to force-feed cocktail peanuts to a sweaty go-go boy… (Who are you to JUDGE ME???)
So, I’ve been having lots of crazy dreams lately – a result either of all my recent personal introspection and self evaluation, or all the vodka I’ve been drinking before bed. I’ve had this recurring dream the past few nights in which I’m shaving my face and then when I finish, I look in the mirror and I’m scruffier than when I began. I did some research, and it seems that my shaving dream is either a warning that financial loss is ahead, or that my friends are about to be especially critical of my personal life. Luckily, I'm already broke as a joke and my friends all have shitty opinions anyway. So things seem to be right on track. Last night though, instead of shaving, I dreamed a dream that Patti LuPone was harassing me to take her shopping. She kept calling my cell phone and when I stopped taking her calls, she showed up at my apartment and I started yelling at her: “Three times! Three times you called my cell phone! Who do you think you are???” (I swear to Christ, this was my dream.) I looked up “Patti LuPone” in my dream dictionary too; it said I “most likely have a really cute apartment and enjoy kissing other boys.” (Spooky.)
This past weekend, I actually did receive a call on my cell phone from another Broadway deev – the one and only Sutton Foster! Love her so. It's been just over a year since I was in Sutton's dressing room at the Hilton, interviewing her at the start of Young Frankenstein. So I was extremely excited to learn that she totally remembered me! I, on the other hand, had to ask her to list a few credits before I remembered who she was... But once it came to me, I was thrilled! Anyway, we had a gorgeous little chat, covering everything from her fabulous debut album “Wish” to Shrek to LuPone’s now infamous onstage meltdown. Sutton was aaabsolutely lovely and charming, as usual, and I was even more so. The interview will drop soon. Do stay tuned!