My Dead Mother is Funnier Than You...

...is a play by Katherine Williams and it will be opening next week, you ol' so and so. Kath is the same playwright who brought you The Shih Tzu Doesn't Like Lesbians and she will be starring in the piece. I will be playing a dog.

Here's the info:

My Dead Mother is Funnier Than You

ArcLight Theatre, 152 West 71st Street (b/w Broadway and Columbus)
April 3 - 6 and April 10 - 13
Thursday through Saturday 8pm, Sunday 3pm

Tickets available through TheaterMania.com

Don't miss Kath's performance in this.

Gym-bo-ree

So, I joined a gym. To some, that's akin to my saying "I like the Mets now" or "I am totally confident about my impending success." And, to answer your question in advance, no, they don't serve beer at the gym. Nor do they sell popcorn or show BBC comedies on DVD. I have decided that in order to be taken seriously, I have to stop looking like I eat a half pound of cheese a night (which I do. I can still eat the cheese, I just have to stop looking like I eat the cheese. I kind of want that to be a new laudatory phrase like "takes the cake." "Boy, that Gabe. He really eats the cheese."). One too many periods in that last sentence, but you get my drift.

My gym of choice? Crunch, which sports such amenities as a rock climbing wall and a boxing ring, neither of which I'll ever use. According to some (read: Kath), it's a gay gym as well, which amuses me because I've always wanted to work out next to Fred Schneider. But, I have to say, the gym is a delight, though I have little to no knowledge about how most of the equipment works. Half way through a weight training regimen, I realized I had my balls in the cash register (perfectly split between the ones and fives, I might add). Any actual exercise I get is just icing on the cake, I figure.

Central Pork

The Dutch sure are fun, huh?

Dutch to legalize gay sex in park

I've never been to Amsterdam, but between the pot smoking and the above article, it sounds like a nonstop party. I know it isn't, but come on. Of course, New York used to be New Amsterdam, but I suppose that in this case the word "New" is Dutch for "Not."

Wait a second...

I saw this ad walking back from some stupid audition this morning:


Isn't that sort of mentality what gets kids abducted in the first place?

A Lady of a Certain Age

A really pretty song about an absolute train wreck of a person. Neil Hannon's "A Lady of a Certain Age:"



Back in the day you had been part of the smart set
You'd holidayed with kings, dined out with starlets
From London to New York, Cap Ferrat to Capri
In perfume by Chanel and clothes by Givenchy
You sipped camparis with David and Peter
At Noel's parties by Lake Geneva
Scaling the dizzy heights of high society
Armed only with a cheque-book and a family tree

You chased the sun around the Cote d'Azur
Until the light of youth became obscured
And left you on your own and in the shade
An English lady of a certain age
And if a nice young man would buy you a drink
You'd say with a conspiratorial wink
"You wouldn't think that I was seventy"
And he'd say,"no, you couldn't be!"

You had to marry someone very very rich
So that you might be kept in the style to which
You had all of your life been accustomed to
But that the socialists had taxed away from you
You gave him children, a girl and a boy
To keep your sanity a nanny was employed
And when the time came they were sent away
Well that was simply what you did in those days

You chased the sun around the Cote d'Azur
Until the light of youth became obscured
And left you on your own and in the shade
An English lady of a certain age
And if a nice young man would buy you a drink
You'd say with a conspiratorial wink
"You wouldn't think that I was sixty three"
And he'd say,"no, you couldn't be!

Your son's in stocks and bonds and lives back in Surrey
Flies down once in a while and leaves in a hurry
Your daughter never finished her finishing school
Married a strange young man of whom you don't approve
Your husband's hollow heart gave out one Christmas Day
He left the villa to his mistress in Marseilles
And so you come here to escape your little flat
Hoping someone will fill your glass and let you chat about how

You chased the sun around the Cote d'Azur
Until the light of youth became obscured
And left you all alone and in the shade
An English lady of a certain age
And if a nice young man would buy you a drink
You'd say with a conspiratorial wink
"You wouldn't think that I was fifty three"
And he'd say,"no, you couldn't be!