God help my co-workers.
A friend of mine and I share a birthday and she wanted to treat me to something special, so on Friday, she took me to see an awesome play/improv show called Girls Only: The Secret Diary of Women, a production inspired by the re-reading of the creators' girl-hood diaries. And their subsequent mortification.
It's kind of a laugh and wink at the condition of Being A Woman.
There are no adequate ways to describe how awesome a fucking hilarious this show was, except to say that the women do the whole first act in bras and panties, and they are NOT supermodels. Cottage cheese thighs never looked so...hilarious. My favorite part was the choreographed number to Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy from The Nutcracker, except the Girls' Only version was of women trying to put on pantyhose.
Thanks again for the awesome birthday present, Friend, and if you people live in the Twin Cities and haven't seen this show yet? You're an idiot. But the good news is it's been extended into June.
There were little diaries on all the tables (right next to the cocktails) that women were encouraged to write in. Most mimicked their 11-year-old voices and wrote about their boy crushes.
I wrote this: