We have seen quite enough of Simone de Beauvoir's vagina

Production post mortem.

We closed Saturday night. Good run, bad matineé. Overall, I'm v.v. pleased. But I learned entirely too much about the sex lives of 75-year-old philosophers. Only drawback: damned theatre apprec. students with no theatre ettiquette who thought the characters were ghosts. I guess I just expect a lot out of an audience; I think I underestimated the "WTF Factor" of this play.

And no one actually did get to see my vagina.

Strike was non-heinous, cast party was absolutely brill. (especially considering that I actually went to this one). I kissed about 10 people (no alcohol involved) and fondled a three-legged cat. Bra-burning brought the night to a close. I walked home happy.

I'll miss being Simone.