Breal a Leg, Ye Scottish Playas.

This is one of the reasons why theatre drives me crazy. Somehow that playwright got a hold of my phone number and called to see if I was coming to see his play about my life. “Uh, yeah, read my blog,” I said. Anyway, then I wish him good luck, seemed like the nice thing to do. Then the dude freaks out on me. “Good luck, Good luck, you’re supposed to say break a leg,” then he hangs up, and as far as I can tell took a bath in garlic and tomato juice. And theatre people wonder why the rest of the world thinks they are freaks. I suppose writers are especially…troubled. So anyway, break a leg. I’m closing in on Cleveland and the temperature is a beautiful

12 degrees BELOW zero

Don’t you wish you lived in Cleveland? After all, New York may be the Big Apple, but Cleveland’s a plum. Don’t lose sight of the left, right, left rule, especially in these trying times.