You know your musical career has ended when.....

This past Saturday, a group of girlfriends and I got together and ventured to DC to see Grease at the National Theatre. We decided to grab lunch in the city before the show, complete with some potent adult beverages. Had I known what we were in for towards the end of the show, I would have actually finished my extra large martini.......and promptly ordered another.

First, I would like to point out that Grease may seem like a show you can take your children to, but I assure you it is not. We learned this before the show was about to start, actually. Vince Fontaine's character was on stage "entertaining" the crowd with his greetings and one liners, complete with dirty language and naughty sarcasm. At one point, when he was doing the whole "where are you from" game with people in the audience, someone shouted out "Manassas!"

He took this....and ran...all the way to the third act of the show. During the sock hop/dance contest scene where Vince Fontaine and Marty were making out and got caught by the principal, Fontaine's character blurted out "wait! this is legal in Manassas!". He must have previously educated himself on the latest news story regarding criminal activity between an adult and a minor.....but I digress.

There were several other sexual innuendos threaded throughout the show. They clearly prompted laughter for 80% of the audience, while the other 20% (the kids) were left confused and looking to their parents for clarification. We got to witness this first hand when the two 8 year olds sitting directly in front of us would constantly glance at Mom with the "um we don't get it" looks. Shame on Mom for not educating little Susie on what a gang bang is.

The star of the show was supposed to be Taylor Hicks, as he was plastered all over the website and had the longest biographical note in the program. Let's not forget he also won American Idol a few seasons ago. I still can't believe Chris Daughtry didn't win, but whatever. Back to Taylor Hicks, the highlight of the afternoon.....seemingly. His part was the character of Teen Angel....and yes, I grasp that he was far too old to play any other character in the show.

I have to ask, though......was it absolutely necessary to stage his entrance the way they did? He came out of a fucking ice cream cone, suspended in mid-air, in the most sparkly suit I have ever seen on a heterosexual male. I can't make this stuff up, really. An ice cream cone. A fucking ice cream cone. Oh, and clearly there was enough room in that thing for his damn harmonica. Seriously, did the original version have the guy using other instruments besides his voice? Didn't think so. Way to keep to the script, Taylor. My two friends beside me and I were trying to control our laughter, but it was absolutely impossible. It was as if we were listening to Robin Williams and his obscene stand-up routine (love him)....but no, we were watching an American Idol hasbeen come out of a frozen treat, belting out Grease lyrics. It was so priceless, words cannot describe. Nothing could top the hilarity of this moment....well, until the finale, that is.

Just when we thought it was over, Taylor Hicks came storming out on stage with his guitar and harmonica and sang a song. Evidently, it was a song from his CD that was just released and he was, of course, selling this CD out in the lobby. This was supposed to entice the audience to make the purchase, naturally. It did no such thing. As we were walking out of the lobby we kept hearing people shout "if you purchase Taylor Hicks' new CD, he'll autograph it for free!" Are you serious? No really, you've got to be fucking kidding me. Not only is he charging actual American dollars for his musical "talent", but he thinks his personal signature is worth something other than a smile?

Shut the hell up, Taylor Hicks. No really, just stop talking. And singing. And take off that ridiculous sparkly suit. No more Soul Patrol for you, sweetheart. I do hope you enjoyed my grabbing your ass, however, albeit through the window. Just saying.