I hate to admit it, but I'm not a theater queen. Or is that Theatre Queen? Regardless, I'd rather watch vacuous blondes parade around in bikinis, vying for "scholarships," celebrating "opposite marriage" and "the Irag."
So, the Tony Awards sort of never make it onto my Tivo schedule. But something in the the reportage of last nights ceremony caught my eye this morning. Brett Michaels injured himself by running into a piece of scenery. At the Tonys. Apparently the Rock of Love ain't so tough.
But WTF was Brett Michaels doing at the friggin' Tonys? Was he part of some stunt casting for the revival of Hair? Was Constantine Maroulis giving blood that day?
No, apparently the organizers of the Tonys brought the band of hair called Poison in for a performance. Michaels said he guessed that the show wanted to add some "edge." Umm. They could have brought in the shaving gel called "edge" and fit the bill more appropriately. Poison hasn't been "edgy" since . . . okay, Poison has never been "edgy," unless by "edgy" you mean "noisy" in that way that high school juniors use volume to drown out the drumbeat of their own testosterone and lack of popularity.
No, my guess is that the Theatre Queens who actually put on the Tonys thought it would be ironic, like pink flamingoes were in their day, or hot oil treatment by Alberto VO5. Speaking of which, I'm guessing there were more than a few catty comments about the state of Mr. Michaels' tresses. You know how those Theatre Queens can be. (maybe I'm more of one than I thought.)