Last night, on a whim inspired by a co-worker's recommendation, I saw Vigilantelope's "Tale of the Golden Lease".
When the lights came up on the opening dance sequence, I knew I was going to like the show. But from Pluto's first line, I knew I was going to love it. And, oh, how right I was.
Easily the best $20 I've spent all month. In fact, easily the best $20 I've spent in a long, long time.1
See that swollen bruise discolouring the middle phalanx of my middle finger? That's from a burst blood vessel. What, you might ask, did I do to burst a blood vessel so thoroughly? The answer, rather surprisingly and inexplicably, is NOTHING AT ALL.
I kid you not. Sitting on the tram, hands resting innocuously in my lap, when all of a sudden there's a maddening itch and I look down and the middle finger is bright red and bruising before my eyes. It's a little trick I inherited from my mother. I suppose I could put a positive spin on it, and call it a superpower, but it doesn't strike me as a particularly useful one.2