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Joan Rivers is incredible. Please see the documentary about her determination and mania, A Piece of Work. It’s this really tragic portrait of a lady who just won’t give up….who still clings to bad reviews from her first play – who is obsesses over critics and is terrified of blank calendars, who will do anything for $. There is something really amazing about her honesty, re: everything from her past, to obsessive face lifts.

Last night, I realized I was having dinner with This guy! Dylan Baker. And then: all I could think of was the movie Happiness. I tried to put this out of my mind, and instead listened to how he and his wife, actor Becky Ann Baker, met as apprentices at Williamstown 25 years ago, and are STILL in love and working together, currently here for a production of Our Town. I like this, very much.

Kristin Chenoweth last night at Bar Centrale! She is tiny and cute and well dressed, with tiny finger-sized purple and green plaid dress and matching scarf and huge heels that brought her to my collar bone. I had forgotten that Bar Centrale was like ‘the place’ for fancy theater people after plays. I was more concerned that it was place for good guacamole and ceviche. I rarely do fancy things of any sort, to the point where when the host pulled out a seat for me, for a moment, I DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO.

In the spirit of Doing Things I wouldn’t normally get to do, tonight I went to see a comedy show way past my bedtime. I am so impulsive. In celebrity autobiography, celebs do dramatic readings of the autobiographies (usually badly ghost written) of other celebs (see: Elizabeth Taylor, Tiger Woods, David Hasselhoff, and Destiny’s Child GROUP biography, etc.) It’s a pretty genius evening that seems to shift based on which celebs are reading that night. MOSTLY I was surprised and stoked to find ANTHONY FROM SEX AND THE CITY / AHHHHH ( Mario Cantone, in real life)

reading from Carrie Prejean’s ‘Still Standing,’ complete with affected voice, and MOST EXCITEDLY, ‘the bald guy from 30 rock, or: Scott Asdit:

reading from Hasslehoff’s, about his tumultuous days on Broadway in Jekyll and Hyde, in which he had to play not one, but TWO CHARACTERS.

EVEN MORE EXCITEDLY, I took the train home with The Bald Guy from 30 rock: an ever-pleasant reminder that people, even famous people, are always people. Which reminds me of a choice line from Kenny Loggin’s book: I want you to open me. Like an envelope. 

By no fault of my own, I have discovered that were I to be a celebrity in India, restaurants could name their prized entree ‘Bekah Masala.’ I’m just saying.

Now: honestly, I usually do not geek out too much over celebrities. I’ve shared the elevator with Matthew Broderick a number of times and not even blinked. Well I probably blinked. But not because of him. But because I had to. Because the average human blinks 16 times per minute. And I am an average person.

Anyways.

Last night, I patroned the 24 hour plays on Broadway! The powers that be let all of the finalists come from free and sit in the front row. The pre-party featured lots of free wine and fancy meatballs. Don’t mind if I did!  The evening is actually an annual fundraiser for Urban Arts – a program that finds unconvential ways to help high school drop outs pass their exams; creates opportunity for artistic growth for those wouldn’t normally get it. An extremely inspiring and effective organization!

And then: the celebrities. Oh, the celebrities.

I realized big time last night that There’s a reason that celebrities are celebrities. They deserve to be celebrities because they are beautiful people  (see: Jennifer Aniston’s tiny and toned and perfect frame; see Ashton Kutcher’s flippant scruff and subtle handle bar pelvic bones / sigh) – and their celebrity itself gives them the time and the money to further separate themselves from the rest of us. Demi’s skin glowed. Julia Stile’s hair was perfect. David Cross’ sweet tattooes were complex and well-placed. Brooke Shield’s boots were impeccable. Ashton’s perfect man sweater. John Krasinski, asking me to marry him (what?) And so on, and so on, and finally to P Diddy, chillin in the audience, in his perfect suit avec girlfriend with half-shaved head (who was that? I’m confused.)

I was totally floored by their skill and ease,  especially those that I hadn’t seen on stage before. You Go, celebrities! Get down with your bad, expensive denim-ed selves! Proud to know you.

In that way, um, in that way that I don’t know you at all, but merely  shared a room with you, and I promise to not pretend to know you and / or show up at your house. I promise!

Steve and I tend to always do the same things, as we’re both so busy and there’s little time for the adventure that stems from nothing to do. If we’re gonna go on a date, it’s usually to a play I have to see. So last night, we decided to do something! Like: find an Event, and patron it! And patron we did! Well, first we ate our weight in enchiladas and Fried Ice Cream and there was a questionable series of moments during which I almost threw up. But THEN: We saw Tracy Morgan at Carnegie Hall!

We were extremely nose-bleedy section but it was still great. Mr. Morgan is hillarious. Blunt, Brash, Nasty, smart. He covered topics not suitable for discussion on this blog (Hi Mom and Dad!) but let’s just say, he discussed the cultural differences between black people and white people in numerous scenarios, including but not limited to the White House and assorted sexy things. It was nice to do a Thing that I don’t normally do, like slowly descend 6 flights of stairs.

Oh, kids. They grow up so fast / get bangs.

“If you see a royal mess of traffic on the streets today, remember that Prince Harry is in town for the weekend. Before he hits the polo field tomorrow, he’ll be making the rounds in Manhattan later today. But after his visits to Ground Zero, the British Garden, the Veterans Affairs Medical Center and Harlem, there allegedly won’t be any parties. Even TIME magazine made note of it, saying, “With those engagements in mind, the royal heartthrob, who has a well-known penchant for long, alcohol-fueled nights, won’t be hitting New York City’s dance floors.” The prince’s private secretary told them, “Quite frankly I think he will be cream-crackered and will want a good night’s kip.”

I love British people.