Ok, internet, I am here to GUSH. Did I have a child and experience a love heretofore impossible to imagine? Did I quit my job? Did I get a dog and dress it up as a sailor? No, no, and sadly, painfully, no. But I did see Pee Wee Herman on Broadway with one of my oldest and dearest friends. And though we greeted him with the shrieks of adoring children who have not forgotten their favorite, bizarre-o playmate, this was no nostalgia tour or Star Wars Christmas Special. Pee Wee looked amazing, and genuinely brought the funny with his mild, delicious misanthropy. He greeted us at the stage door, all charm and politeness.

I don’t want to detail the show, because the run has been extended to Jan. 2 and it really is a must see.  Miss Yvonne and the Jambi the O.G. (original genie) were on board for the production*.  I feel droolingly gleeful about shouting

mekka lekka hy mekka heiny ho

mekka lekka hy mekka chonny ho

in public.  It was not just me who left the theater jumping up and down and grinning for miles.  Across the aisle from us was the double rainbow guy, judging from his enthusiasm.  For me, moments of true happiness, untainted by wistfulness or some darker feeling, are so rare, so unbelievably rare, it is sad.  AUGGH.  Ruined it.

*I do feel it incumbent upon me to mention that Laurence Fishburne did not reprise Cowboy Curtis himself.  Excuse me, Larry, you got something better to do?  Counting your matrix money and tracking down your daughter’s porn must keep you pretty busy, admittedly.

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