John Mayer is no History Boys

I saw the Tony Award winning Broadway show History Boys tonight. For one – it is amazing. For another - it made me feel part of the sub-intelligentsia. I sat there intently starring at the stage, listening as hard as I could, and trying to get my brain to switch for the US magazine mentality to a more New Yorker mentality. There is an entire scene in French for god sakes! Eighteen years in Canada, ten of them taking French as an option, has left me with the ability to say “Où est mon stylo?” Something you need to say all the time in France because the French love stealing pens. And Q-tips. The French are crazy for Q-tips. (or as they say in Paris – “Idiots pour les Q-bouts.”)

Speaking of which, my favorite television show premiered tonight: CSI. They have a huge Q-tip prop budget for that show. I know it’s not the smartest show – but it’s a delicate ratio of ¼ mystery solving, ¼ TV science, ¼ gore and ¼ music video. Viola! A hit.

I also like pretending Gil Grissom is my dad. He just strikes me as an excellent father figure. Maybe I find his obsession with archaic literature and entomology as a way to hide his true emotions, an endearing trait. In real life I’m sure it would be totally annoying and drive me to alcohol / expensive therapy. Plus, I really like watching the characters snap on latex gloves and peer intently through microscopes in lab scenes that are shot with a blue filter so it seems like they’ve been up all night solving the crime – yet they still look impeccable. Sexy and exhausted. Unbeatable.

So the episode is going along as per usual when all of a sudden Nick and Catherine are dancing at a night club for no apparent reason. Are they celebrating finishing a case half way through the episode? What is the purpose of this scene? And then I see they are dancing to John Mayer, who is playing live on CSI. Wasn’t he just complaining that Jessica Simpson used him for cheap publicity? Hey Mayer – Que faites-vous?? I’m not so sure having your second song, a soulful ballad, as background music for Nick to hook up with a nameless blonde and for Catherine to black out after downing a spiked cocktail, is any worse that ten paparazzi snap shots with a publicity whore/divorcee. The next time I hear “Slow Dancing In A Burning Room” I’ll be thinking about roofies. Merci Mayer!!