matthearn.com

A lot of you have been wondering what’s up with this whole Brigadoon thing. Questions I’ve received include:

1. What’s with the tartan on the main page? Are you Scottish now?

   As it turns out, I have like 1/16th Scottish blood, courtesy of my mother’s mother’s mother, whose maiden name was Shaw. The tartan in the current logo is the modern Shaw tartan, probably invented by well-meaning lowlanders in the early 1800s. I’d get a breacan-feile (the massive Highland kilt) of it, but it turns out getting roughly 18 yards of it costs something like $800. As I can barely afford to keep myself in sufficient athlete’s foot medications, it’s unlikely I’m coughing up $800 for something I’d wear approximately once per decade. At least until any future daughters I have bring home boyfriends, in which case I get to put it on and wander around the backyard trimming the foliage with a claymore. Or a band saw. Whatever’s handy is fine.

2. Isn’t Brigadoon a band? I think they opened for White Rice when I saw them in Hartford last summer. Don’t they have a song called “My Monkey Wears OshKoshB’Gosh (When He Spits In The Pasta)?”

   Brigadoon is not a band that I know of, although that is a very evocative song title. I feel that we should attempt to put lyrics to it. I’ll start with part of a verse:

   I got a monkey at the store
   He was dressed up like a whore
   I bought him some new duds
   And then he and I were buds

   I’m feeling that, oh yeah.

3. Another stupid site redesign? Are you some kind of interior-decorator-wanna-be?

   My ability to redecorate is limited to what I can do with paint. Which, it turns out, isn’t much, without nice curtains and pretty throw pillows. The site redesign is a reminder for everybody to come see Brigadoon. (Read on.)

4. Please put up more pictures of Dave Chappelle’s Asian Wife.

   No.

Most of you are probably aware of this already, but I can’t remember what information I may have posted here, and I’m FAAAAAAR too lazy to actually look and see, so here’s the full Brigadoon update:

I auditioned in April for the part of Tommy Albright in the Brandywiners’ production of “Brigadoon,” a musical in which Tommy and his buddy Jeff go to Scotland and meet hot girls. (The plot’s more complex than that, but I’m trying to get people to come, and I figure between the prospect of musical theatre and hot girls, we’ll get all genders and sexual orientations.) I got the part, and we started rehearsals the last week in May.

Things are going SUPERBLY. I hadn’t acted since high school, so they’re having to rebuild me completely, which I’m sure is as frustrating for them as it is for me, but it’s working out. I’m still a little stiff, but I’ll get over that.

My costars are so money. Fiona (Tommy’s love interest) is a HILARIOUS girl named Jennifer Kennard, and we get along great. It makes things much easier for me that both of us were equally uncomfortable when we had to smooch for the first time yesterday. (The fact that she’s a stunning redhead doesn’t hurt either.)

Jeff (my hunting buddy) is a fellow named Dave Munch who, I’m told, plays a hell of a guitar. (I should get him to come jam with me and my coworkers…hm.) He’s a laugh riot, so playing Dick to his Tom (Footnote 1) is easy.

Charlie is played by a guy named, well, Charlie Hannagan. Which makes things easy on us. We just hope he shaves before the show; he’s got the beard of a playoff hockey player. Meg is played by Cindy Goldstein; to say she’s just “funny” is like saying Tom Jones “just” has a slight bulge in his groin. Harry Beaton is in the capable hands of Matt Weaver, a kid that I directed in a few high school shows at Brandywine; he dances like Baryshnikov, so we’re looking forward to hoping he doesn’t cut his foot on a sword.

Anyway, that’s pretty much the lowdown. The show goes up July 29th, 30th, 31st, and August 5th, 6th, and 7th; tickets can be purchased by calling 478-3355 or (800) 338-6965. Come one, come all! Plenty of good seats left, but we’re planning on selling out all six shows, so get your tix now. Now! GET TICKETS NOW, DAMMIT!