On Friday night, Lunchboy and I went to see "Carol Mulroney" at the Huntington Theater with a group of work friends. It was a fun play, a witty, smallish workshoppy production set on a city rooftop. The actors really seemed to relish their dialogue, especially the swear words that were dropped in just to show how hip the characters were. That was all fine until a monologue in which one of the female leads held forth on her desire to burn her current self into a small pile of ashes so that her spores, specifically her cunt spores, could blow away in the wind and be swallowed by some unknown man, who would then love her completely because he'd ingested tiny pieces of her crotch. It wasn't supposed to be funny, but it was--I was trembling with silent laughter. The people in the row behind us were offended, though--they gathered their coats and left. The cunt spores drove them away.
We'll be calling everyone a cunt spore for at least the next year. The play was worth it just for that.
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