From Fordham Miller Fare: “There was some skiing, there was some Dora, and in between our car blew up.”
As it turns out, Dora did not have a big head. I have blurry pictures that I could show you, but they may just frustrate you unless I take the time to crop and sharpen them. It occurred to me as we were walking the frigid four blocks from the parking garage to the civic center that I had never been to a huge production like this, at least one geared towards children. Neither had Robin and neither had the kids.
It was much like an arena rock concert for children. Maddy and Morgan knew all the characters and sang along to all the songs. Instead of lighters to wave during the ballads, some of the kids with suckers for parents had these lighted wands that they would wave to the music.Sometimes they would dance. Thousands of kids seemed to know exactly what to do at every moment. Frightening? Indeed.
During the intermission, Robin asked if Dora — who had calves of steel and virtually no breasts of any kind — was really a woman. After intermission, I couldn’t think about anything else. This picture confirms that Dora was a woman, although I think it’s more fun to think about it the other way.
Overall, I think it was a good experience for the kids, but I don’t think I’ll be going to another one any time soon. Maybe the Nutcracker or a stage play, but not a commercial production like this.
Maddy had a good time, although she did feel that an actual first-grader would have been better for the role of Dora. Morgan had fun, too. Props to him — sometimes he wouldn’t dance when the will of Dora came down on him to dance. I admired his chutzpah in that regard. And then on the way home when he was making up songs and singing them in his sweet little soft voice? Oh the joy.
So, it looks like I’ll be taking in a Dora the Explorer show next week with two of my favorite children on the planet and their equally awesome madre.
In preparation for the show, I have a few questions that you, my dear readers, might be able to answer.
1. Will Dora be a person dressed in a costume?
2. If yes to number 1, will she have a big head?
3. Will a man or a woman be underneath the costume?
4. Will I be frightened?
I have a feeling your answers may only invite more questions, but here goes….
I had this idea that I would live-blog the Olympics every once in a while, but I hadn’t committed to it.
Now I don’t have to bother. A colleague pointed me to this wonderful Slate blog called How To Watch the Winter Olympics. Basically, it’s emails written back and forth between two witty slate staffers. They discuss such things as the role of the woman in pairs figure skating vs. the luge competitor and the coverage of the women’s halfpipe competition:
The TV broadcast had zero human interest cutaways that I saw. This was the one time I found myself begging NBC to bring the action to a screeching halt and cue up a few pop-music-inflected video segments about the athletes’ lives beyond the halfpipe.
It’s much funnier than what I could have come up with. Now I can waste my time doing other things. Woohoo!
I had this idea that I would live-blog the Olympics every once in a while, but I hadn’t committed to it.
Now I don’t have to bother. A colleague pointed me to this wonderful Slate blog called How To Watch the Winter Olympics. Basically, it’s emails written back and forth between two witty slate staffers. They discuss such things as the role of the woman in pairs figure skating vs. the luge competitor and the coverage of the women’s halfpipe competition:
The TV broadcast had zero human interest cutaways that I saw. This was the one time I found myself begging NBC to bring the action to a screeching halt and cue up a few pop-music-inflected video segments about the athletes’ lives beyond the halfpipe.
It’s much funnier than what I could have come up with. Now I can waste my time doing other things. Woohoo!
I just spent the last, oh I don’t know, one hundred million hours blogging the Grammys. I feel like I just ate a half-gallon carton of ice cream.
Meanwhile I missed Project Runway tonight so if you see me DON’T tell me who got voted off.
This blog has devolved into What I’m Watching on Television Right Now.
I just spent the last, oh I don’t know, one hundred million hours blogging the Grammys. I feel like I just ate a half-gallon carton of ice cream.
Meanwhile I missed Project Runway tonight so if you see me DON’T tell me who got voted off.
This blog has devolved into What I’m Watching on Television Right Now.
So tell me again…Why did Lisa Loeb let the young dude pay for her trash cans and stuff?
UPDATE: she repaid him at the end of the episode… sorry, I’m still catching up….
I can tell you with complete honesty that the only thing I watched on TV last night was the rest of the #1 Single show that I had missed the other night. I also wanted someone who shall remain nameless to be able to see Lisa Loeb’s Isaac Mizrahi show ‘appearance’ firsthand, since he’s been obsessively checking the links on one particular blog entry just to make sure they still work.
I will not get hooked on Survivor.
I will not get hooked on Survivor.
I will not get hooked on Survivor.
I will not get hooked on Survivor.
I will not get hooked on Survivor.
I will not get hooked on Survivor.
I will not get hooked on Survivor.
All through last night’s gripping Project Runway episode I was referring to Santino as “a limping bird.” Because that’s what he looks like to me now that he’s been sucking up the runway with his crappy designs. He’s been reduced to such pathetic proportions that I have only pity for him. Maybe at some point in episodes of the future he will, like a phoenix rising up from the ashes, become the great designer that everyone claims he is.
I swear I don’t watch that much television, although I do have to confess that I’m leaving a dinner party tonight by 9pm so I can get home in time for The Office.
pop culture, television, western mass | sighclub February 23, 2006 | 
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