Everyone's favourite sexual teddy bear, Liev Schreiber, will be on Broadway in A View From the Bridge.
Click that link.
When you click it, you might hear the distant sound of your grandmother's prized china tinkling as it meets the harsh reality of a hardwood floor.
This, coincidentally, is also the sound of my heart breaking.
I fly back two weeks before this opens and will not be over again until June.
Ow ow ow ow owwwww.
Perhaps it's for the best, though.
When I saw what turned out to be Jeremy Piven's last performance in Speed-the-Plow, it was his last for a reason.
That shit was a disaster.
The acting wasn't the issue, though you could tell the actors' hearts weren't in it.
I knew I didn't like the play ahead of time, but it was a Christmas gift because Jeremy fucking Piven was in it.
With this, however, I love the piece and have high hopes for the performance. Ahhh well.
I am not too disheartened, dear readers.
In keeping with what is fast becoming an annual tradition, I saw Gogol Bordello at Webster Hall with one of my best friends.
Sufficed to say, it was a religious experience.
My unimpressive height left me battered and bruised by the flailing young men and shimmy-rocking skanks while I bopped up and down for a glimpse of these modern gods.
At the beginning of their forty-five minute encore, like clockwork, a broad older gentlemen stepped to the side and became my human shield for a few songs.
Alas, when the crowd was invited to the after party it took me several seconds to comprehend that I would not be among the chosen few.
Nahhhh biggie.
I had an amazing time and we saw Batman on the Path. It was pretty sweet.
Didn't manage to get any good shots this time around, so here is my favourite from last year's joyfest/of all time.
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