All Things Profane and Sacred

It's nice to know people in show biz. Last night, around 5is, J got a call from a friend who wanted to know if we wanted to go to cirque du soleil. She had two comp tickets and her friend had bailed and she was tired, so we fed the boys, jumped into the car and zoomed across town. Luckily, we decided to bus and walk in. The street was jammed with cars to get to the parking lot, which was charging $10/car (I guess that when you've already paid so much for tickets-$35 for the nose bleeds, $185 for the up front and personals, $70 for where we were sitting-you don't kick much at the parking).

The show was stunning. Funny and magical and old style French. Best of all, there were only 2 clowns, and they weren't American clowns-which makes all the difference. J and I argued about that-he claimed all the acrobats were also clowns, which is downright slanderous, not to mention untrue. Acrobats are cool. French Clowns who aren't wearing bulb noses and greasepaint are ok. American clowns are scary, especially when they gurgle in their rusty clotted voices, "We all float down here."