*Or, “That Time I Went to See Live! With Kelly”
(only a slight exaggeration)
Regis might be long gone, but I still snagged this vintage ticket. Also, I could have Photoshopped out that pimple. But I didn't. Because I keep it real. Also, I don't have Photoshop.
So here’s the thing. I’m not too shy to admit that I’m a total fan of the previously titled Live! With Regis & Kelly show. If Oprah was like my TV Mom growing up, then Regis was my crabby uncle, Kathie Lee the crazy aunt we loved because we had to, but never mentioned publicly. Then along came Kelly, like the cool older cousin you hoped would teach you to feather your bangs and take you clubbing in the city.
As a kid, sick days and summers were the best because it meant I could drag a chair up to the mini TV on our kitchen counter at 9 am, pour myself a big bowl of Corn Pops and watch my favorite show, which I knew was taped in New York City. I watched and slurped at the sugary milk of my cereal, aching to grow up one day and live there. Which would naturally mean employment at either 1) WABC, working alongside Regis and Gelman or 2) Corporate America. (I didn’t really understand what the latter was, but from all the 80s movies I saw on HBO, I knew it involved wearing business suits with big, fat shoulder pads and walking crowded city streets to get to work. Where do I sign up?!)
Fast forward to adulthood, and while I wasn’t yet living in New York with my fancy shoulder pads, I was still watching the show. After bad dates or restless nights in my lonesome twenties, I self-medicated with Regis and Kelly’s host chat segments on the Internet, watching one after another into the wee hours of the morning. No, seriously. The 20-minute banter at the start of each show was like cotton candy – light and airy, a guilty pleasure, slightly nostalgic, making me feel good about myself and my place in the world. No, seriously. (Say what you want, but I also think Kelly is a comic genius. And you know I don’t use that word lightly.)
I’d always wanted to see the show live in studio, but either I couldn’t get tickets or distance didn’t allow it. Fast forward and I am now living in New York (still no shoulder pads, dammit)…and I managed to procure tickets for the show this week! When I got the call from the studio, I was like one of those screaming ladies on the Publisher’s Clearing House commercials. (Though, I can’t lie: it was a little bittersweet now that Regis is gone.) I brought my mother and sister along (grumbled my mom: What, you couldn’t get tickets for Dr. Oz?) and we woke at the crack of Wednesday morning to stand on a snaking line at 67th and Columbus, shuffling to our seats with the crowd of mostly tourists (Lady A: “We have tickets for The Chew tomorrow!” Lady B: “You mean The View?” Lady A: “Nooo! The Chew!)
And when the music started, and Kelly danced onto the set with guest co-host Neil Patrick Harris (oh my god, you guys!), Continue reading
