What? Oh, Right. The Fringe.
Okay. To quote Nathan Rabin, "But enough foolishness. On to more foolishness."
In all the talk about my Chicago trip, I’ve completely been blindsided by the fact that the New York International Fringe Festival has now descended upon our fair city like the Fat Man and Little Boy.
I figure, being a New York theatre blogger and playwright, I should at least mention the monstrosity big annual event.
Thought this may change, I think my Fringe-going may be a bit light this year. It’s likely I’ll only be seeing four of the 201 shows playing in the festival this year: these two tomorrow (to review for Martin), then these two as soon as possible.
Wait. That's not light at all. By my calculations, I saw only four shows last year, too. So I'm par for the course.
So happy Fringing, everyone. And have a good weekend, folks. I’m off like a prom dress.
Getting taken advantage of
by the homecoming king,
James "Drunken Slut" Comtois
Labels: Fringe Festival, theatre
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