You Came And You Gave Without Taking...

All day yesterday there were constant television interruptions by local stations, warning of how mindblowingly awful the weather was going to be starting a little before midnight and lasting into Sunday. Realizing that this happens every-year in Michigan I wasn't too worried, since it's the snows that they don't predict that cause the issues, not the ones where the Road Commission is posed 12 hours before waiting for the first overtime of the season. This isn't Florida people, we know how to handle snow removal, and if you haven't figured out how to drive in it yet buy an SUV. Regardless, I had decided on a quiet night in, possibly baking cookies, since I've never been one for unnecessarily braving the snow.

Until one of my gays called me with an offer I just could not refuse. Barry Manilow tickets since his parents didn't want to go out when there was the possibility of snow fall. It's not that I'm some huge Barry Manilow fan (or "Fanilow" as I believe they like to be called), it's that I'm always up for an evening of feathery, glitterly, campy goodness.

I went in with high expectations, knowing people rave about what a showman he is, and the Fanilows were going crazy so I figured I was in for an amazing show. Sadly, I was wrong. The entire thing was very minimalist, with about 4 dancers until the last number (Copacabana), where in addition to the dancers Barry threw on a yellow jacket and 3 show girls with feathery Las Vegas style head-dresses joined them onstage. I could go on, but I somehow doubt anyone is still reading my random ass post about Barry Manilow.

I guess I'll just have to wait until the Spice Girls to get my full dose of Camp. I am certain they won't fail to deliver.