On Friday night, Mama D and I went and saw Mamma Mia. Here's something you may not know about Mama D: when she loves something, she loves it. She saw Mamma Mia in the theatres and told everyone how amazing it was. She was a one-woman ad campaign for that movie. So, what better way than to earn the love of my mother than to buy her tickets to the stage show?
I wasn't really expecting anything from the show that I hadn't seen before in the movie. My expectations were mostly lots of glitter, some spandex and a shit-ton of Abba.
Pretty much.
Mama D and I gussied up and headed off to the show. After finding our seats and procuring some wine, we settled in for the long haul. (And I mean long. The show was almost 3 hours. 3 HOURS!)
I'll admit it, I went in with a "this is probably going to be kind of lame, but Mama D will like it" attitude. I scoffed inside when the lady next to me practically gave birth because she was so pumped up during "Dancing Queen". I rolled my eyes in the dark when the family of four in front of us bobbed their heads along to every song like they were at a Metallica concert.
And then something happened. After the "Money, Money, Money" song, I found myself thinking, "Jeez, they really rocked the shit on that one." By the time "Take A Chance On Me" came on, it hit me: I was really enjoying the show. It may not be the most hard hitting material, but holy hell, is it catchy. I was like a junkie; Abba was the dirty needle and sweet, sweet glittered bell bottoms were my crack.
After the show, which may or may not have included dancing by Mama D and slight, uncomfortable swaying by yours truly, we headed home. As we got into our car, I fished Rex Grayskull out of my purse and scrolled around for something to listen to. Nothing seemed to fit the bill for what I wanted to hear. So I put it on shuffle and secretly cursed myself for not having any Abba.
You win, you silly Swedes. You win.
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