Glam

My friend John and I went to see La Cage aux Folles Wednesday night. It wasn't a great production -- the actor who played the bitchy maid/butler chewed the scenery so radically it threw the balance off -- but it was fun. Mostly because we got to see George Hamilton as Georges.

He can't really sing. He can't really dance. He's too old for the role. And yet, it was fun. Just to see him. He's completely charming.

For my friend John and I grew up on him. He was on all the game shows and talk shows when we were kids. And I remember being a little girl, reading about his White House romance with Lynda Bird Johnson.

The only downside of the evening was John's health. He's still not well. I'm in shitty shape and, while a little winded when we got to our seats in the loge, I was fine. As were all the people around us. He was exhausted. On the way down, which you'd think would be so much easier, his foot bothered him again. It was sobering. He acknowledged the problem, saying, "This is something I need to mention to my doctor." Indeed! After all, George Hamilton is a good 15 years older than we are, and he was singing and dancing!