Friday night, Mr. W took me to the Stella Adler Theatre in Hollywood to watch “The Body and Soul of a Chinese Woman,” the latest play by C.Y. Lee, the same guy who wrote the hugely famous “Flower Drum Song,” which was later made into a Rodgers & Hammerstein Broadway musical. Here is the synopsis according to theatremania.com:

The Body and Soul of a Chinese Woman follows a young, traditional folk dancer from China as she deals with inner conflicts and struggles to free herself from her cultural binding so that she may live the life that she craves. Her body and her soul are clashing all of the time and her soul constantly provokes and encourages her into discovering herself as a woman by exploring her sensuality and liberating her intellectual being. Her ultimate search for happiness and for true, deep emotional love and freedom is told with humor, sadness, tenderness and pain.

Altho Mr. W felt the play was lacking on depth, I found the play absolutely delightful. And the main character’s living room, I immediately noticed, could’ve been my parents’ living room, or my friends Vicky & Karens’ parents’ living room, or college roommie Diana’s parents’ living room. “All parents’ living rooms, and not the kids,” Mr. W noted. You got that right. Here’s a photo of the set:

living room set

We got to Hollywood in the early afternoon and walked all around l0oking at the sights (Mann’s Chinese Theatre, the stars on the Walk of Fame?, most of which names I didn’t even recognize), watching street performers, checking out the many whore outfitter stores (I was SO tempted to buy stuff, but those cheap costumes were hideously overpriced for the quality), had a great Shabu Shabu dinner at Koji’s.

This guy walked up to Mr. W as we were walking and asked if I was his girlfriend. Mr. W actually entertained this guy in conversation as I refused to even make eye contact. He asked Mr. W what his haircolor is, accused him of being old so how did he get a young girl like me?, asked if I had a sister, said I’m pretty, then asked if I was Korean. I found all his questions really offensive. The guy followed us chattering for like 2 blocks. After that, Mr. W for the remainder of our Hollywood trip made sure I walked on the inside of the sidewalks with him on the outside. Oh, in response to the guy’s question about how he got a “young girl” like me, Mr. W had said, “Because men age like fine wine, we only get better with time. Don’t worry, you’ll get there.” I’d rolled my eyes.

top of some famous theatre or whatever by night