flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
I don’t care how quiet you think you’re being, or how important it is to tell your date that that last song was awesome, I CAN HEAR YOU. Unless you are in the cast of Warhorse, shut your face.
Also, that thing you do where you hold your phone in your lap and text and think I don’t see it? Dark room + glowing phone = super obvious. I hate you.
Just watch the damn show, you cretin.
Oh, but, y’all, I finally got to see Warhorse! And eeeeeeeeeeeeeee! so good! I may not have stopped crying yet. I never bothered to see the Spielberg movie because YOU REPLACED THE PUPPETS WITH REAL HORSES WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, and now I don’t have to, because I have seen the show and it was better than all the things. ALL of them. I was a little worried that the 9-ish-year-old girl sitting near us was going to be scarred for life by all the awful, but she seems to have slept through the more hellish war bits (AKA act two), so good. No, really, SO GOOD. Please someone film the stage show and then sell me a copy? Legally, I mean, not with your iPhone. Don’t make me rant again.