Or it could just be that the people from Hairspray pretty much invited every blogger throughout the Chicagoland area to review their show.
Regardless, I love free things. So I first tried to get my husband to come with me. He's not exactly a theatre geek, so selling him on a musical about a chubby Baltimore high schooler as she helps desegregate a 1960s dance show with her drag queen mother by her side was harder than you'd think. At the end of the day, Joe got out of it with a work call.
I had to move on to the next warm body.
Atheist Friend was teed up. I figured it was a good way to thank her for cleaning out my microwave on a weekly basis (have I mentioned she's a tad Type A?). She initially agreed, but wasn't feeling too well by late afternoon. I was now in a pickle, so I turned to my oldest friend and basically begged her to head for my house that exact moment. Jeanette also has GPS in her car. So between that and a working pulse, she was a perfect choice.
Jeanette figured it all out when she questioned me on her last-minute slot:
I'm your Number 3, aren't I?
But Jeanette's always been a good sport. It takes an exceptionally good sport to stay friends with me for almost 30 years.
Jeanette walked into my house an hour later chanting, "I'm number 3! I'm number 3!"
The musical was a ton of fun (no pun), and we even got to attend the "press party" afterwards where we loaded up on free shrimp and cocktails. I kicked myself for not bringing a few Ziploc baggies to smuggle out some chocolate chip cookies for the kids' lunches that week.
Anyway, be sure to read my review in Chicago Parent tomorrow. And thank you, Jeanette, for being the best Number 3 a girl could ever have.
|Jeanette and I at her wedding shower 15 years ago when we still had hair, youth, and muscle tone.|