Dr. M and I went to see The Nutcracker last night at the SF Ballet. Shortly after the first act began, a small earthquake rattled through the theater. My immediate thought was: "Great. Either the theater and/or balcony is going to collapse and kill us, or we'll be crushed in the stampede of out-of-town yokels who've never felt an earthquake before."
Fortunately there were no further tremors, neither of these things happened, and the ballet was enjoyable. Dr. M also enjoyed it, partly because I didn't tell her any stories about Mr. Belvedere during intermission.
Remember that time he Drop-kicked the jacket - as he came through the door? No-one's there!
Remember that time he drop-kicked the jacket - as he came through the door? No one's there!
Save the stories about Mr. Belvedere for intermission at Le Mis or Rent.
I should probably explain the Mr. Belvedere thing. Please see this post about the first (and only other) time Dr. M and I went to the ballet.
I also made the same observation last night about how the male dancers wore thongs and the female dancers did not, and how upsetting that was.
Tom, isn't the lyric, "who cares?" not no-one's there?
(Yes. Yes it is.)
Ack! No, I'm wrong too.
It's "streaks on the china never mattered before, who cares? If you drop kicked your jacket when you came through the door, no one glared."
Technically, the male ballerinas are in "dance belts", not thongs. It's because of testicles.
Damn you, testicles!