Continue reading »]]> Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that the NATO Summit is taking place in Chicago this weekend. It’s a nightmare. The damn thing doesn’t even start until Sunday, technically, but the city has been flooded with delegates, staff, protestors, press, and security for days. Except for the security. They’ve been here for weeks. Avoiding all this crap would be a really good reason to live under a rock, actually.

Because we live on the South side, we are between the Loop and McCormick Place. Which basically means we’re right in the middle of all the bullshit. Protest parades and motorcades are surrounding us, so before too long I’ll probably be getting tear gassed or something.

Bonniedog is totally over this shit. The circling helicopters got old a month ago (seriously. they’re out of control) and she is NOT a fan of tear gas. Or ruckus of any sort, unless she is the ruckus-causer.

Until all these shenanigans are over, FuzzyButt will be tucked under a blanket on the couch, thankyouverymuch. She requests occasional bathroom breaks and frequent bellyrubs. She also requests that those goddamned helicopters GO AWAY AND SHUT UP, but she doubts that they will listen to her.

Continue reading »]]> Have you ever read a book where you identified with the main character? I maybe kinda sorta do it all the time. I definitely have been known to describe myself the same way Hermione was described in one of the Harry Potter books: insufferable know-it-all. Actually, who am I kidding? All of you totally read To Kill a Mockingbird and decided to grow up and go to law school because you want to be Atticus Finch. Duh. (I didn’t. I read it, once, in school when I was young, and have almost no memory of it.)

Researchers at the second-most offensive school in the Big Ten recently published the results of a study they performed regarding “experience-taking.” The study found that “when you ‘lose yourself’ inside the world of a fictional character while reading a story, you may actually end up changing your own behavior and thoughts to match that of the character.” Among other things, people who read about characters overcoming obstacles are more likely to vote in upcoming elections, and people who identify with a character who is revealed to be gay have more positive views of gay people.

Give me a book with a fantastic character, and I can move the world. Or so it seems.

For it to work, it looks like the book needs to be a first-person narrative which quickly establishes qualities the reader can identify with. Of course, the examples given in the articles aren’t first-person narrating characters (Atticus, Tyrion) but hey, why not?

In my own reading experience, I can definitely tell you that the more often I read a book, the stronger I identify with the characters. For example, the first time I read Mockingjay, parts of it made me angry because I thought Katniss wasn’t being true to the character she had established in the first two books. She was too callous. But, now that I’ve read it (and the other two books) three or four times, I totally get where she was coming from and think that Suzanne Collins wrote her just exactly right.

As I think about all this, I’m starting to realize that my very favorite books, the books that I read over and over and over again without ever getting tired of, are the ones where I identify strongly with the characters. I’ve read and enjoyed The Lord of the Rings, but when I’m looking for a book to pick up and love the heck out of, they aren’t on my short list. Is that because I can’t identify with Frodo or Gandalf? Maybe.

My very favorite books feel like an old friend. I pick them up and feel at peace; like I’m at home. I smile as I read, finding parts that may have slipped my memory or reminiscing about them. I hate knowing that certain characters I adore will die, yet that makes me love and appreciate them more while they’re around.

I love a good book.

Continue reading »]]> Last time: Uma’s out, and Dev slept with Ivy but didn’t tell Karen and they’re now kind of engaged except that the ring is mistakenly in Ivy’s room. EWPS.

The first season of Smash went out not with a bang, but with a whimper, a sigh, a big old “ugh, of course,” and a gag.

Who will it be? Will Karen or Ivy get to play Marilyn? THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING US. Except it isn’t: we all know it will be Karen. There is no question. From the very first episode, people who see Karen fall all over themselves to share her special unique snowflakey talent and talk about how freaking great she is, even though the audience doesn’t get it. Look, she’s got a good voice. It’s not a Broadway voice, but it’s certainly more than passable. She’s very pretty. But she’s not much of an actress, she’s a passable dancer (though it never looks natural or effortless; you can always see her trying really REALLY hard), and she has NO stage presence. The acting and dancing could be ignored; the stage presence problem won’t go away.

Oh, hey! Derek announced that it’s Karen after rifling through a bunch of Marilyn costumes and picturing each girl wearing each one. He picks Karen after finding that purple dress that he hallucinated her wearing a few weeks ago. Whatever.

They have less than 12 hours to refit all the costumes, and run the show. Karen doesn’t know all the choreography, doesn’t know all the lyrics (including some recent changes), doesn’t know all the staging. She has to practice all the costume changes and she’s awfully slow at much of it. BUT. In her defense, when she sang the song about wolves loving to howl (aahhh ooooooh), she looked great. From a distance, mostly. But that was the first time I’ve ever seen her pulling off Marilyn. And her skintone is still totally wrong with that wig.

But then there’s a bit of a coup. Everybody but Derek thinks Karen can’t pull it off. Ellis demands that Ivy be in, and announces, TADAA! that he is the one who put peanuts in Uma’s smoothy to save the show by getting rid of Uma. He demands more producer work. Eileen fires him. He says, “of course, you realize… this means WAR!” and she’s all “meh, whatever, go away.” Speaking of useless characters who won’t go away, Eileen’s ex is in town to watch the show for some reason and he wants in on producing too? Whatever.

Eileen, Tom, and Julia really don’t think Karen can do it. Eileen talks to Derek, and Karen overhears. And then she heads backstage where Ivy pops out the engagement ring and hands it to her, telling her all she needs to know. Karen confirms with Dev. She ditches him to head backstage, but then loses her shit by ripping off her wig and disappearing. Nobody can find her until Derek follows a trail of Marilyn artifacts (shoes, dress, mole) to Karen, hiding behind the costume rack. It sure seemed like it took hours to get there. And, in the meantime, because they couldn’t find Karen, Ivy Marilyn’d up just in time for Karen to get back on stage and Ivy to have to un-Marilyn herself. Again. But before she can get out of the Marilyn drag, Bernadette Freaking Peters showed up to cheer Ivy on for making it!

Oh, one other thing I liked about Karen last night? When Ivy told her about Dev, and then tried to console her with some sort of Marilyn bullshit about how Dev is a good conservative marrying-type guy just like Joe DiMaggio, Karen stopped her and said, “I am not Marilyn. This is about ME not her. We are not the same person!” and all the people who watch Smash said “SERIOUSLY IT IS MORE THAN ABOUT DAMN TIME.”

So then the show went on. Tom and Julia figured out their last scene. As the show was starting, they made the cameras follow “Anonymous Girl Playing Marilyn” around up the stairs, even though it was already announced that Karen was Marilyn and we’ve already seen her being Marilyn all day… whatever. And guess what? It was still Karen.

The new ending involved an empty stage with Marilyn in a sparkly dress and in the spotlight (after the same suicide scene that bombed two weeks ago). She sang a quite beautiful song about begging people not to forget her while the ensemble girls popped up individually in Marilyn drag behind her at times, and then it ended with a big ass pic of Marilyn Herself on a scrim behind the stage. Karen sang it quite well, but, again. The stage presence thing. She can pull off being surrounded by a bunch of dancers, but when she’s standing there alone on stage, she’s just… standing there. And that’s not enough.

Oh, and the really awful, really predictable, horrible stuff that happened (other than Karen getting the role, that is)?

Julia’s knocked up.

Ivy’s overdosing backstage.

Seriously.

_____________________________________

Rumor has it that Smash is getting TOTALLY reworked for next season. It will pop up mid-season again, which gives the new showrunner time to create a new vision or something. It appears that the entire audience has the exact same gripes I do (Karen isn’t charismatic but they won’t stop pushing it, Julia’s family is boring, Ellis is randomly evil and nobody cares, random singalongs at bars and karaoke and bowling alleys and in Times Square suck and are clearly there to sell iTunes singles but the good music is the stuff for Bombshell, etc) and it appears that they show will be addressing a good number of these gripes, if not all. Cutting way back on the cast, which is far too big. We’ll see.

The show has the makings of something fantastic. It just keeps getting bogged down by itself and is so dang tonedeaf to think that it’s doing things right? Sheesh. Here’s hoping next season ends up being the great show this thing started off with the promise of.

Continue reading »]]> Once upon a time, a person said a dumb thing on twitter. Other people called her out on it and explained why it was a dumb thing. Eventually, some people started making jokes about the dumb thing she said. Her feelings got hurt and she blogged about it. She blocked half of twitter. She blogged about it again and again and again and blamed my friends for not making sure everyone on the internet stopped joking about the dumb thing she said. She attacked my friend and called her a bad mother.

She and I had gotten into a bit of correspondence regarding the dumb thing she said, wherein I apologized for her feelings being hurt and told her that I was done and would never bring it up again. But, that was long before she constantly brought it back up and screamed at people for things beyond their control for the next 72 hours. Circumstances changed. So did my attitude.

Then I wrote her the following email (edited slightly for clarity and her anonymity. I’m a bitch, but I’m not about to link to her.):

Dear ____________:

At the time I contacted you, I was done. At that point in time, all that had happened was that 1) you made a stupid remark* which led into a discussion; and 2) many hours later, some views of one side of the conversation led to a meme that had (I repeat) nothing whatsoever to do with you. Memes happen with no choice on the part of the person who inspired them. They don’t mean anything about that person. For example, people do not mean to insult Ariel with the Hipster Mermaid meme, and wouldn’t it be a shame if she did take it personally? IT WAS NOT ABOUT YOU.

You contacted [my friend] and asked her to control the internet. You asked her to stop a meme that was funny and that she didn’t start. Your feelings were hurt. I understood that you took it personally (though it was not personal) and that is when I told you I was done, on a blog post that you wrote (at least twice) about how you were victimized by a roving pack of twitter mean girls. You weren’t. Some of the people participating weren’t even girls. Irrelevant, I know. And I was done. At that point, you were just a nameless person from whence a funny joke had come. You weren’t anyone I had known existed before that day, you weren’t anyone I had ever followed or spoken to, you were just another twitter user. For the record, in the (maybe final?) revision of your blog post, you said you were done as well.

But you didn’t let it go. You blocked people who never participated in a second of the meme, who had never said anything to or about you whatsoever. People noticed that they were blocked. They then mentioned it. That is absurd. It’s your prerogative to block anyone who happens to follow [my friend] or me, just as it is their and our prerogative to say that it is absurd to block people who never did anything to you just because they seem to be friendly with [my friend] and me. If that’s not why you blocked them all, then I apologize for calling the blocking ridiculous and mocking it. Otherwise, I don’t. That was ridiculous and childish.

Clearly you didn’t block every single person who followed me or [my friend], since at least one person read our tweets and decided that you needed to know. Even though you had said you were done looking. Nobody made you look. You had to actively work to see what we had said. And then you wrote another blog post.

At this point, congratulations. We remember your name (even though it really is a rather boring handle). And now, just like the kids from Fame, you shall live forever as a punchline. Because you wouldn’t let it go, repeatedly. You meant to find insults where there were none. You kept looking, and you asked to be insulted through your actions.

The insults which weren’t there before are there now. You found what you were looking for. But it is of your own creation. So read my blocked timeline on purpose all you want. Maybe I will “attack” you. More likely, I’ll joke about the stupid remark you made and the stupid actions you’ve taken since then like blocking innocent bystanders and writing silly blog posts. Just know that anything I write can only hurt you if you let it hurt you, which includes reading what I say on purpose as a deliberate choice made by you and you alone.

K

*(Make no mistake: saying “I’m sorry but it’s wrong to [X]” is a stupid remark. The false apology at the beginning does not soften the moral judgment. And it WAS a moral judgment, same as “not breast feeding is wrong.” I believe that you didn’t mean to say that anyone who [does X under any circumstances] is a bad person. I think you meant that it’s best to [do X in a good, kind, charitable way] and that it is rather horrible to [do X in a bad way]. I’m sure you understand that [doing X] isn’t always a suitable choice for some people, and that sometimes people who would love to [do X in the good kind charitable way which I believe you are advocating] are [unable to for a variety of reasons]. So, stupid remark. It happens to all of us. Take a mulligan.)

The joke? STILL HILARIOUS. Totally still alive and well. Also alive and well? Snacky’s Law. I know it may look like I was being like a bitch, but that’s only because I was acting like a bitch.

For the record, I’m not sorry. I’m not even sorry for not being sorry. SO THERE.

Continue reading »]]> I saw the movie version of Coraline before I read the book. I’d heard good things about the movie, even though the previews didn’t do much for me, so when it was available on HBO, I’m glad I checked it out. I mean, just LOOK at her dad:

Seriously. How great is he? There can be no doubt that Coraline’s dad is the best kind of dad in the world and any movie he is in with his awesome sweatshirt is a movie worth watching. MSU is my favorite.

I really enjoyed the movie, though a few parts of it were too scary for me (I’m a flincher. when things jump out, I jump 100 feet in the air.). I was a big fan of Gaiman’s Stardust and Neverwhere, so I figured I’d probably like Coraline too. I was right. I did.

Coraline is a girl who feels neglected by her parents. Her family has just moved into a big creepy old house (shades of Beetlejuice here) and she spends a lot of time wandering around by herself checking things out. While she explores, she finds a locked door and some insane neighbors. The insane neighbors give her various warnings about sneaking through the door, and some random tools to help her. Huh. Whatever. Coraline ignores them. Obviously. It wouldn’t be much of a story if she didn’t.

Through the locked door, Coraline finds an exact duplicate of her house, inhabited by duplicates of her mother and father. Her Other Mother is attentive and cooks Coraline’s favorite food for her. In this other world, there are magical objects and people (including versions of her weird neighbors). It’s basically her world, but better. Her Other Mother offers Coraline the chance to stay in the other world. All Coraline has to do is what the Other Mother and Other Father have already done – replace her eyes with buttons. Coraline realizes that this isn’t quite right, and gets the fuck out of there. She thinks she locks the door back up and will be safe, but of course she is wrong.

The Other Mother kidnaps Coraline’s real parents. To get them back, Coraline must reenter the other world and play a game against the Other Mother to win. And the Other Mother cheats. Coraline has to find her way through all sorts of obstacles in the rapidly disintegrating Other World on her way to retrieve the eyes of three other children from different eras who had fallen for the Other Mother’s tricks. Can Coraline rescue her parents and the other children, while beating out the Other Mother? Of course she can. But it’s a fun wild wacky ride through Gaiman’s neverending imagination.

Coraline is a fun book. It’s for a younger audience than much of Gaiman’s other work, but it is just as complex and imaginative and richly described as anything else he has done. The “be happy with the family you have even if they’re too busy for you” message gets hammered home a bit hard, but so it goes. There is also a graphic novel of Coraline that I wouldn’t mind reading, but it’s not a high priority. But I definitely recommend this book for a quick entertaining read.

Continue reading »]]> J’adore Jeffrey Eugenides.

 What, isn’t that enough for a book review? FINE.

The Marriage Plot is a story of three people. I won’t call them friends, because that isn’t quite the right word at all. These three people are college acquaintances who all graduate from Brown University in 1982 and start striking their ways through the world.

Madeleine and Mitchell were friends during their first year of college, but he fell so damn in love with her (and she was so NOT in love with him) that their friendship mostly ended. He couldn’t accept her not loving him back (oh for fuck’s sake, the friend zone is not a thing. women are allowed to not love you, fellas) and she couldn’t deal with his mooning about and sad puppyface all the time.

Eventually, Madeleine met Leonard and began dating him. Their relationship was rather on-again-off-again like Queenie and Too-Tall (yeah, I said it. and you know exactly what it means. woot) and as graduation comes around, they are broken up. Leonard and Mitchell have somehow become friends, and this makes everything with Madeleine very awkward. She ends up getting shitfaced and hooking up with a rando the night before graduation, since she hadn’t heard from Leonard in weeks. She learns, however, that Leonard has been hospitalized. Her roommates knew, but hid it from her because they think he’s bad for her and know that she’ll fly into Florence Nightingale mode for him. They’re right.

Madeleine puts her life on hold to nurse Leonard back to health. He has been accepted into a very prestigious biology program on some isolated dorky scientist cape town. Madeleine joins him. Leonard won’t be even remotely social, either with her or with his fellow scientists. It’s a rough go of things. Madeleine wants to save him but doesn’t know how (ladies. this shit never works. walk away).

In the meantime, Mitchell backpacks across the globe and finds himself in all sorts of interesting situations with interesting people. He never stops thinking about Madeleine, but also seeks enlightenment in a variety of places and starts to find himself.

Eventually, we learn that Leonard has bipolar disorder. Madeleine fell in love with him when he was in a controlled manic state; they broke up when the mania got out of control; and during most of their time on the cape, he’s massively depressed. When his mania starts to pick back up, Madeleine spoke about how the man she fell in love with was back. She didn’t know about bipolar disorder. I ended up wondering if she ever really loved Leonard at all, or if she only loved Manic Leonard.

The narration changes between characters. At the beginning, it’s Madeleine, and you start to identify with her. While Mitchell is traveling, he comes to the forefront and you realize that Madeleine maybe isn’t much of a protagonist or even good person at all. But then from her later on, you realize that Mitchell kind of sucks too. Leonard got the last bit of narration. By the time the book got around to him, I was really thinking he was a total piece of crap douche. The focus on him made him much more sympathetic.

The brilliance of Eugenides is that he creates three entirely unlikeable characters, and makes you want to know more. You know people like these characters. They are overeducated insufferable pretentious douches. They spend tons of time discussing all sorts of existential meaning-of-life things, adopting one meaning-of-life book after another as they dress in all black and use big words. They are all bitter and selfish and unable to see beyond their own navels. Every time you think one is pretty decent and you identify with him or her, Eugenides rips it out from under you and shows you just why that person sucks. And yet, you still care about what happens to them and can’t wait to see how the story ends. I didn’t like any of them at the end, and I didn’t understand any of them either, but they were still accessible.

There’s no redemption for them. They remain insufferable overeducated pretentious douches. But they all live through this chapter of their lives, intersecting on and off for five or six years. Each has a huge impact on the other two. And then life goes on. In the end, all the education and pretentiousness in the world can’t save you from yourself.

Near the beginning, there’s a whole lot of talk about “semiotics” – pretentious doucheism. It took a lot to slog through and derailed my reading a bit, as well as other friends’ readings. I took it as Madeleine’s having a hard time understanding all the shit, as it was her narration at the time, so it maybe was supposed to be over your head and sound totally pretentious and off-putting? Either way, get through it. The book is worth it.

Oh, and the prose is BEAUTIFUL. Duh. It’s Eugenides.

Continue reading »]]> Oh man, do I ever love proper punctuation. Lynne Truss, the author of Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation is a kindred spirit.

Throughout the entire book, Truss explains precisely WHY punctuation is important. Why it’s still wrong, even if people can tell you MEANT to say “you’re” when you wrote “your.” She painstakingly lays out the history of punctuation. Each mark was introduced at a different point in time for different reasons and each has been used in different situations in the past.

The history behind punctuation marks helps you understand their present use. Truss also rips apart authors who believed themselves above such trivial things as punctuation – it certainly does have a purpose, and a good one at that.

Truss is funny. I especially enjoyed her callbacks to earlier jokes, including one about the prior name of Starburst candy. The book was a quick enough read that I could enjoy them and still understand the reference, but not so quick that I got sick of it.

Not all of Truss’s rules are correct, at least, not to American eyes. The book is British, and therefore all punctuation used therein is British. I’m fine with it, but if you’re looking for the best current American punctuation style book, stick with Strunk & White. But if you find the Apostrophe Abuse blog (and its blogroll links) amusing, you’ll definitely enjoy Eats, Shoots & Leaves.

Continue reading »]]> Time seems to be flying lately. I think of things in the future and start planning for them, but then realize, “hey, that’s in a month and a half. SLOW YOUR ROLL. you have all the time in the world.” After that, I usually chill out a bit. And then, before I know it, that thing that was SO FAR AWAY is 3 days away and HOLY CRAP I AM UNPREPARED.

This happens all the time with weddings. I somehow manage to forget that they’re happening until the week of, and then I don’t have anything to wear AND their registry is all picked over and there’s nothing left and then we’re the douches giving a card with a check. There’s nothing worse than being those douches giving a card with a check. Pete doesn’t have a problem with it. I fucking hate it.

Anyway, my point is that life’s too short, babe, time is flying because LOOK! It’s another Friday and time for yet another adorable picture of my dog. I know. You are SO EXCITED. And here I am, trying to get new pictures of her on a regular basis that aren’t the same as the other pictures I’ve posted because that would get boring. But, while Princess Consuela Bonniehammock is adorable damn near all the time, she doesn’t really do much other than lie around and sometimes sit or stand and give us deep knowing looks. Whatever. Still cute. Enjoy.

See? Lying around, being cute, giving us looks like “why the fuck is that damned camera out AGAIN? point your phone elsewhere, stalker.” And I’m all, “But BonBon, looook at your little paws and how they’re all bent around funny and they’re so little and so cute and I just want to smoosh your face.” So she lets me take a picture, and then demands I smoosh her face. She loves face smooshing.

Have a good weekend, kids. A dear friend will be in town for deep dish and a 5K (and lots of face smooshing) and I’m thrilled about it. Woo!

Continue reading »]]> Yesterday, another state in the United States passed another constitutional amendment confirming the already-existing inability of people to enter into marriages which are not “between one man and one woman.” Before yesterday, men could not marry men in North Carolina, nor could women marry women. The now-amended state constitution changed nothing. First cousins over the age of 16 can get married in North Carolina.

There is no reason whatsoever to not allow two consenting adults to enter into a contractual relationship which is recognized by the state and given certain benefits. As long as the state recognizes that such relationships exist, the state cannot discriminate against who may enter into it.

No church has ever been forced to marry anyone its faith is opposed to. I couldn’t have been married in a Catholic church: I am not Catholic, my husband is not Catholic, and we have no intention of ever raising any Catholic children. No priest could ever have been forced to marry us. Even if we were Catholic and wanted a whole houseful of Catholic babies, no priest could ever have been forced to marry us. Any Baptist church, Lutheran church, Methodist church, Orthodox church, synagogue, or mosque would have been able to refuse to marry us as well. Sun Myung Moon could refuse to marry us in a mass marriage or otherwise. Each faith determines who is able to enter into a marriage which is sanctioned by their religion, and who is not able to enter into a marriage because the religion does not sanction it. The fears that churches will have to marry gay and lesbian couples are completely unfounded.

Tradition is the dumbest excuse for these hate-mongering denials of civil rights to Americans.

Traditionally, marriage was determined by the couple’s parents for political or monetary gain. Marriage was not for love. If we want to be traditional, marriages must have parental permission and provide dowries. Everybody who wants a state-sanctioned union may enter into a civil union. I’ll take one.

Traditionally, marriage is a religious union between two people of that faith in God’s eyes. In that case, marriage is a purely religious institution with no state recognition. To be traditional, marriages may only be performed by religious institutions, not judges or friends who were ordained on the internet. Everybody who wants a state-sanctioned union may enter into a civil union. I’ll take one.

Traditionally, marriage is for the production of non-bastard children. People who are unable or unwilling to procreate may not have a marriage. For the purposes of this, there is no fertile octogenarian. Marriage is only for people who are ready, willing, and able to make children. Everybody who wants a state-sanctioned union may enter into a civil union. I’ll take one.

Many countries require a civil union at a courthouse or similar governmental building to have a marriage be recognized by the state. If you want God to also recognize the relationship, you do so separately in a church, often on another day.

A marriage, for the purposes of state recognition, is a contractual relationship between two people. The state then gives married people certain benefits and obligations. As a contractual relationship, it must be entered into without coercion by people who are able to consent to it. The state may choose to not recognize unions between more than two people, perhaps. But it may not choose to discriminate based on the race, religion, or gender of the people involved.

This is what happens when we cut funding for education and the arts. People grow up stupid and intolerant and try to deny civil rights to a minority group based on a majority vote. It makes me hate this country. It makes me hate fellow citizens. I know it won’t last. But it fucking sucks that it’s happening.

Continue reading »]]> Last time: the Bombshell cast and crew are in Boston getting ready for their out-of-town previews, Dev proposed to Karen and she was shocked and didn’t have an answer so then they had a big fight about him kissing RJ, Derek slept with Uma and Ivy heard it happen, Michael Swift is back in the show playing DiMaggio (his replacement’s left and gone away, hey, hey, hey), and then Ivy and Dev met each other in a bar and started drinking together. EW.

It is the penultimate episode of the season. Time for all the loose ends to start getting tied up while leaving enough mystery to convince the audience to watch next week and be interested enough to watch again next season. Fun.

Naturally, Ivy and Dev couldn’t just drink together. They both obviously knew who the other is, and obviously fell into bed. Because there is no conflict on Smash that isn’t entirely about sex. For a show that’s all about sex, you’d think the sex parts could be more interesting, but nooooo. They both promise to tell no one. Cute. We all know that isn’t going to work and we don’t care.

Blammo, time for previews! Julia gets to the theater with her husband and kid, and immediately Michael Swift’s cab pulls up. They all turn and stare at him and it’s silly. Julia is LIVID at Tom for letting Michael back in the show. She says, “I am not speaking with you,” and the entire audience (and Tom) all went “Dude, Julia, nobody talks like that. You are not talking to him, duh.”

The preview goes fantastically. The audience LOVES the show, it loves the music, it loves Uma. They’re applauding wildly throughout the whole thing. We learn that yes, that number Tom stepped in for with the boys in the locker room IS done with boys in towels but as far as we saw they took out all the rip-off-the-towels-and-wiggle-your-hips moves. Boo. We get to see a new number from Ivy and Karen (with the rest of the female ensemble backing them up) about the casting couch. It was cute but, like all the numbers of that ilk, merely served to remind the audience that although Katharine McPhee seems lovely and can sing pretty darn well, she is no Megan Hilty. McPhee’s dancing is passable, her acting is .. less so, but still passable, and she has little-to-no stage presence. Hilty sings and dances and acts circles around her. As she should. It just makes the whole thing where everybody falls all over themselves for Karen’s awesomeness less believable.

And then… Bombshell falls the fuck apart. You guys. They ended the show with Marilyn’s suicide. With her alone on her bed, overdosing, and dying. Alone. Dead. SUICIDE. She doesn’t get to float up to heaven to be joined by a heavenly host of other dead people. There’s no number with the ensemble all in their Marilyn drag about how Marilyn will live forever because people are freaking obsessed with her and won’t let her go. She just dies alone on her bed, sadly, and then it’s time for the curtain call. Obviously the preview audience didn’t applaud. They didn’t know that was the end. What freaking musical ends on a quiet lonely nonmusical suicide?

Tom and Julia have to fix the ending. Somehow they’re all surprised that the audience didn’t clap for the dying part. They didn’t even give her a superangsty suicide song like Javert or Judas. Ugh. But Julia isn’t speaking with Tom and Tom knows that Julia isn’t talking to him. So they break up for a while. Luckily, Sam wants to go to church and wants Tom to go with him anyway because church is important to Sam. Sam schemes to get the entire ensemble and Tom and Julia at church. For some of them it’s easy (Karen, who is from Iowa, exclaims, “I *love* church!” Of course you do, dearie) and others a bit harder, but it works out. Soooo all the NYC Jews and White Yuppies pop over to Sam’s gospel baptist church where they all sit in the front row for an interesting cultural experience. Sam sings with the gospel choir, and OF COURSE he invites Karen up to sing too, and OF COURSE they love her because she has soul, duh. And then Tom and Julia apologize. He was right, by the way. She chose to fuck everything up and then wanted the show to suffer because she finally came to her right mind. Whatever.

Karen wants Dev to re-propose but the ring is missing and he thinks he left it in Ivy’s room though she claims to have looked and not found it. Ivy called out Derek for fucking Uma and Derek was like “dude. I’m the director, she’s the star. she needed me to give her confidence and take care of her. you understand. we’re professionals. the show must go on. that’s why we work so well together.” Um.. yeah.

Uma drank peanut in her smoothie and nobody knows who put it in there but Uma doesn’t care who did it, she knew it was there and drank it anyway and ended up in the hospital from anaphylaxis. It was dramatic so they cancelled a few previews and then she’s okay but she doesn’t want to do the show so she’s dropping out and who cares. Karen, from Iowa, apparently doesn’t understand how 911 or cell phones work. She was there while Uma started choking (even though Uma had JUST put her phone down and Karen had her own phone in her pocket), and Karen started just yelling down the empty hallway, “HEY! Somebody! Call someone! Help?”

Next time, on the season finale: Will it be Karen or Ivy??? Nobody knows. Ivy knows the entire show. Karen’s the understudy. WHO WILL BE THE GIRL? Who cares? And we find out just what Ellis is up to, supposedly. It’s taken too long to get that answer. I’ve stopped caring why he’s a crazy shadeball and started assuming he’s just a random villain for no reason. That’s good enough for me.