I Can Haz Broadway?!

As I continuously sit in the 8th row center at every Broadway show, I look around at the people who no doubt paid upwards of my week's salary just to see Harry Potter sing and dance like the over-emoting monkey he is.

I think, "Gee...what if one day I have to sit in the mezzanine." And then I think, "Ha. I would never sit in the mezzanine."

Spoiled? Maybe. Good looking? Definitely.

Let's be honest, theatres should be paying me to sit amongst the ladies-who-lunch and 14 yr. olds whose bleached-out mother's bought them tickets so they'd stop crying in the lottery line. And don't even get me started on the boy next to me who bought every piece of merchandise Catch Me If You Can had to offer and then whined for 5 minutes about the fact that they ran out of show posters. I'm sure Aaron Tveit will be happy sign just your cast album.

Norbert Leo Butz will only sign boobs.

But it was my time at How to Succeed as I leaned forward to tell the bitch in front of me "TURN OFF YOUR G**D*MN PHONE!" that I really began to question what the theatre has become. Souvenir cups being sloshed around during Act II? Attendants peddling goods from the aisles like it's a hockey game? Jean shorts and tank tops paired with kitten heel flip-flops (ladies, they're disgusting, I'll cut off your feet)?

Daniel Radcliffe is on stage getting paid thousands and thousands of dollars per show and the best middle-class America can give him is an American Eagle graphic T?!

For shame, America. For shame. Thespians have struggled for years to maintain the least amount of dignity in a dying art form. The least you could do is chug your drink in the lobby like the greedy little TKTS swine you are.

So here I am wondering:

Is this the life I want to live? Singing and dancing my heart out on stage because it's the only thing that makes me heart happy while straight overweight bald men come with their wives to goggle at some low-cut sequins on some slut from Carnegie Melon (or arguably the pecs on some UMich beefy twink)?

Yes. Yes it is America. GOGGLE AT ME.

Dear Satan: my soul is free,

TJB: Making It