I write to you today out of the post-Wicked depths of despair. Woe is me. I feel faint.
I need to sing Defying Gravity again. It's the only remedy for the post-Wicked blues.
Who am I kidding. There is no remedy. Well, other than hopping on a plane and flying to New York City, parking myself on Broadway, and paying up the yin-yang for Wicked tickets on the main floor.
Worth. It.
Here we are pre-Wicked:
We don't have a post-Wicked picture due to tears. And the bajillion people surrounding us and every Wicked sign in the entire theater.
Yes, I said tears. I cried. Tears of awe and unabridged joy. "And if you can't find me, LOOK to the western skyyyyyyyyyyy..."
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.......IT'S JUST AMAZING!!!!!!!!!! I NEVER WANT THIS TO END!!!"
Hot mess in the mezzanine. Aisle N. Seat 3.
So, the show was amazing. I didn't want it to end. But it did. And now I'm sad.
The end.
In other news, 'tis the season for wine and cheese!
Oops! Don't you just hate it when the camera goes off on it's own.
That's better. I {heart} that girl.
Ugh. I have no idea who that child is on the right.
Let's try again, shall we?
What does it take to get a good picture around here?!
At least the girls are pretty. Stupid boys.
Off to listen to Defying Gravity again. For the 153rd time. Today.
xoxo
Elphaba's Understudy
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