Rock, paper, Edward Scissorhands

I was excited about seeing "Edward Scissorhands" until Observer theater critic Julie Coppens told me the production at Blumenthal's Belk Theater was a dance performance instead of a play. After spending what felt like eternity at "The Nutcracker" in December, I wasn't in the mood to sit through more dancing. Plus, I'll be seeing Savion Glover in February, so I needed a break. J-Cop suggested I go anyway, saying "Edward Scissorhands" was a production she'd been looking forward to most this year. Plus, she assured me it'd be nothing like "The Nutcracker."



I took her advice, and didn't regret it. I haven't seen the movie, and I definitely didn't know what to expect from the performance. The production was done in such a way that you don't need to know the movie to understand or appreciate the performance. The story of a misfit who is tolerated and ultimately rejected is portrayed through jazzy dance numbers that are often humorous.



That's right, "Edward Scissorhands" is a love story. Don't all misfit stories seem to revolve around love? I wouldn't mind a story about a misfit who doesn't get the girl because he's a misfit. That'd be keeping it real.



Anyway, the production made me want to rent the movie so I can see how it compared to the Belk show. Did you see the production? If so, did you like it? And how did it compare to the movie? Post your reply below.

A sad day for lesbians

I'm heading out shortly for happy hour and I'll be pouring out a little beer for my homies -- the Charlotte Sting.

In today's business section, we reported that the professional team will be disbanding and the players will be shipped to other franchises. It's a loss for the city, but it's an even bigger loss for lesbians in the Carolinas.

I know -- the WNBA doesn't like to talk about the lesbian factor. But it's no secret that WNBA games are gathering places for lesbians. Yes, the games show us the best in basketball, where we actually see teamwork and it's not all about the personalities and high-flying dunks.

But for me the games were more than that. In a city like Charlotte, where lesbians -- especially middle-class black ones -- tend to be closeted or cocooners, Sting games were places to get my flirt on and simply socialize with like-minded women.

The games drew a mix of women: some were single lesbians, others were couples, and some had children. It was a mix of lipstick and baby butches.

I'm one of the slackers who never made it to a game at Bobcats Arena, but I fondly remember the days at the Charlotte Coliseum. Halftime was the best. We'd walk around the concourse and I would typically run into someone from Columbia, S.C., or Raleigh. We'd hug, catch up and promise to stay in touch. At the next game, we'd do it all over again.

Almost as big as the games were the after-parties, which drew a mix women. Today, I have a close network of friends, but I feel for the young women and newcomers who are dying for a place to meet other women. They lost one of the best lesbian assets.