How I Met Your Penis

I have seen Doogie's Howser.

Normally, I don't write two blog postings in one week about penises. Not because I'm worried about any perceived vagueness in my sexuality. At this point in my life, who cares?

But I do subscribe to that old dictum to 'write about what you know'. And other than my own, I have no knowledge, nor interest in, anybody else's penis.

Which brings me back to Neil Patrick Harris.

Years ago, when Culver City was swapping out old timey bookstores and cobbler shops for shiny, new restaurants and hipster coffee bars, someone had the brilliant idea to restore the decrepit Culver Theater.

With an infusion of money from the Mark Taper Forum and a generous donation from Kirk Douglas, the building got a fresh coat of paint and reams of brand new crushed red velvet. The rats and pigeons were evicted. Or moved to nearby Marina Del Rey. And for the first time in decades, the stage was set for live theater in Culver City.

Naturally this gave my wife and a friend from the neighborhood an excuse to purchase tickets to the new theater, which is in walking distance to our houses. And not just tickets mind you, season tickets. Which meant every week my buddy Clark and I were dragged off, with our wives, for a cultured evening of dinner and a show.

Nothing to complain about, right?

But in its infancy, the new Culver Theater was determined to make a name for itself. It did so by showcasing less-than-stellar writers bent on showcasing their alternative lifestyles. I certainly support equal rights for gay people.  And I'm no prude. I like watching two lipstick lesbians going at each other as much as the next fellow, but all this nudity and public display of light petting would have been more palatable had there been a point to it all.

There wasn't.

The week after week of wienie wagging culminated with the arrival of Culver Theater's biggest star to date, Neil Patrick Harris. But two minutes after coming on stage, Neil's pants, and his underpants, quickly came off. Moreover, it was during a soliloquy about his dying father. Huh?

We didn't renew our season tickets after that disappointing first year.

Last week, on a recent breakfast run to Sam & Woody's Cafe, we noticed that Val Kilmer is appearing in a show he wrote and directed about the life of Mark Twain.

So, after an 8 year absence we are returning to the Culver Theater. But if Val unzips his pants and takes out his Huckleberry Finn, I'm out of there.