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Friday’s Adventure was a bit a disaster, if you couldn’t already tell by this blog’s title.
Disaster may be too strong of a word however I’m sure that’s what my car would say if it could talk.

It took me a long time to figure out what to get my parent’s for Christmas. They had a rough year filled with a lot of emotional and financial hardships so I wanted to get them something fun and relaxing. I finally decided on season tickets to the Metropolis Performing Arts Centre.
This past Friday was our first play titled There’s a Girl in My Soup. I knew nothing about the premise besides the fact it was labeled a comedy. We started the evening with dinner. I parked in an underground lot were they have painted the support pillars the same color as the back wall. This was a bad idea. Even though I check my blind spots, looked behind me, and checked all three mirrors I still backed into one of the before mentioned pillars. There is now a really nasty dent in my trunk and it scratched up my back bumper something fierce. My poor car–you were so pretty, glittery, shiny black, and I’ve only owned you a year. I am not ashamed to admit I shed a few tears.

Our play was scheduled to start in 20 minutes so we forged on to the play house determined not to let this affect our night.

I give this play the rating of “eh.”  It wasn’t horrible. It also wasn’t very good. I laughed at a few spots but not many. The acting itself wasn’t bad (except for the nanny who had a horrible fake accent). It was the script that was bad. Dated. Out of touch. The male lead’s tagline was “My God, but you’re lovely”. Ug.
Apparently this script is from the 70s. I think with a little bit of rewriting and modernization it really could have been the humorous comedy I was looking forward too.

Overall the evening was alright. I always have fun with my parents, they are actually cool people. I like the Metropolis theater’s atmosphere and have high hopes that the other two plays will be better.
Now starts the long process of getting auto body quotes and filling out the insurance forms. I’m sure the body shops are looking at my credit card and going “My God, but you’re lovely.”

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