Live Blogging "Rosie Live"

I'm so excited!!! I've been waiting for this show for months. Rosie's sooo funny and so wonderfully subversive I can't wait to see what she'll get up to. Too bad I couldn't get tickets to see it in person.

And there she is! Oh, girlfriend: the lipstick is a mistake. It's almost scarlet, and that autumnal skin tone really needs more of a peach. Plus, it veers waaay outside the lines in the middle, making it look like Rosie's permanently puckered up. She launches into a joke about her boobs, which is strange considering the whole purpose of this show is to entertain the whole family. This is a smack in the face to Gay Uncle Bob.

A trap door in the stage opens up and a figure slowly slides up. OHMIGOD IT'S LIZA! LIZA MINNELLI! I am absolutely her biggest, biggest fan. That voice, that dancing, that razzmatazz -- she's a Broadway icon, a legend, every talent in the world, rolled up into one sparkly package.

She and Rosie immediately launch into a duet of "City Lights." Hmm; an odd selection, from the 1977 Kander and Ebb show The Act. A better choice might have been --

Ooh, Liza's not doing well. Tremulous, and off-key. Some of those notes, girlfriend, are barely notes. And Rosie . . . she's slow, she's awkward, and she can't carry a tune. It's like watching Richard Simmons work out with Marlon Brando.

This is . . . not good. In fact, it's pretty much . . . abhorrent. Repulsive. And now I'm feeling a little strange. In my stomach. In the back of my head. It's -- it's . . . .

Who am I? Where am I?

Whose stylish apartment is this? Why am I wearing a caftan? Where'd my chest hair go?

Holy fuckin' Christ. I . . . I've been scared straight. I watched something so gay and so disturbing, I've actually been scared straight.

I'm going to get myself a beer, and from then on, dudes, this blog's all about sports.