Well, Matt and I went with my parents last night for the third show of the five my folks got us for our birthdays last year: The Full Monty. We'd seen the movie (I've seen it several times, actually) so we knew more or less what to expect.

Aside from the changes between England and America, the difference between screen and stage, and one or two fairly minor storyline changes, the plot was pretty much the same.

And they'd fixed the sound problem the previous two shows had, thank the gods, where the music had drowned out the singers.

Matt and I had heard a radio commerical for the show a few days ago, and it had been... Uninspiring. They tried to make it sound like a soul-searching show (um... no) and went way out of their way to emphasize that there wasn't any actual nudity. And the acting in the commercial was horrible, but that wasn't the show's fault. And this show was a musical, which I wasn't sure would work at all.

So I went in kind of dubious. But I was pleasantly surprised. The musical numbers were good and not too intrusive. I really liked "Big Ass Rock," actually, wherein two guys try to think up the best way to help the third commit suicide. The music and lyrics for "Michael Jordan's Ball" were forgettable, but the choreography was fantastic. And "You Walk With Me" was wonderfully sweet and gorgeously sung. (Even if I did think they played up the one guy's homosexuality a little too much. He was a walking - no, make that floating - cliché)

I'd been wondering how they were going to get through the show without nudity. Especially at the end, where the plot calls for, well... The full monty. The answer is: There were, in fact, some bared behinds, and the guys really did strip right down at the end - and just as they did, a very bright light backlit them, so we couldn't actually see anything.

All in all, the show was a lot of fun. My mom got really into it, cheering and whooping for the strippers with the best of them. I had fun watching the cute guy. Guys. Whatever.

The next show is in just three weeks. The Allergist's Wife, about which I know nothing except that it's a comedy. I hope that's good. And then, a six-week haitus, and in May we'll see Jesus Christ Superstar, which I know very well but have never seen on stage. (It'll be interesting to see how I manage to fit into the theater chair, six months pregnant. Ah, well, it could be worse - it could be eight months.)

Another late night, and I'm sleepy again today. Thank goodness it's Friday - but then again, maybe not. I've barely started this week's editing!

--Liz