I just received an official invitation to my ten year high school reunion. Whaaa?!?!? I scrolled down the E-vite, praying that when I got to the “start time” section it would say “in six years from now.” But, in fact, it is in just two weeks. Ten years?? When did that happen? And how does it work out that I’m still only 22 years old? [uncomfortable silence.]
I RSVP'd, “Thank you, but I would sooner wear last season to a reunion of the Nazi Party at a yeshiva in gay hell.” (I hope they got the point.)
I see absolutely no reason to put myself through that. I’m already in touch with the few people I liked or who were important to me in high school. And anyway, the only good reasons to go to those things are to show off how thin and gorgeous you've become, and to see how fat and bald everyone else got. These days, I'm able to accomplish that via Facebook, without having to talk to anyone I don't like or whisper behind their backs when I make fun of them.
Also, I just recently heard Oprah say that she doesn’t go to weddings or similar functions anymore because she knows she’ll inevitably pull focus from the main event, and she would hate to do that. Unfortunately, as of late, I've had to adopt that same way of thinking.
But enough host chat...
Sunday night I was at the opening of Burn the Floor – the sizzling dance spectacular seen ‘round the globe, now sexin’ up Broadway’s Longacre Theatre for a limited time. So hot! These dancers are ri-schmuck-ulous! In my extensive career as a homosexual, I can honestly say I have never seen bodies like these. At the top of the show, a light slowly comes up in the proscenium, dramatically silhouetting the perfectly chiseled torso of one male dancer, and the entire audience audibly gasped around me. What a vision to behold. (In retrospect, I'm now able to identify that gasp as the rare and unmistakable sound of 1100 people simultaneously developing an eating disorder in perfect unison. It was beautiful.)
The two hours which followed delivered a nonstop, edge-of-your-seat, slap-your-mama, suck-in-your-gut, puke-up-your-lunch explosion of Latin and Ballroom dance like I’d never seen before. At the height of popular reality dance competitions like "Dancing with the Stars" and "So You Think You Can Dance" and "Dance Your Ass Off" and "Dance Till You Shit" or whateverthehell else they got goin', Burn the floor is undoubtedly a perfect Summer kick-off to Broadway's new season. You won't want to miss it. But heed my advice: For the sake of your own self-esteem, you might want to refrain from eating solid foods for about two hours leading up to the show. And then for about six months after.
I'll leave you with a cute pic from the after party, which was held at Providence Restaurant & Lounge in Midtown. Why, it's me with Samantha Harris & Maksim Chmerkovskiy (my fiancé) from "Dancing with the Stars"!
Maksim stars in Burn the Floor through August 16, alongside his actual fiancé and fellow "Dancing with the Stars" beauty, the lovely and talented Karina Smirnoff. (I might hate her a little bit.)