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In any other person’s basement, spending hours upon hours punctuated only by pretending to be a doll salesman would be unnerving. Indeed it sounds like an Edgar Allen Poe plot, as observed in the play itself. When the celebrity in question is Barbara Streisand, however, it is a comedy—and a raucous comedy at that. Buyer… Read more »

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For the past month, my apartment has been undergoing renovations, which means that all my stuff—everything from unpaid bills to wet towels to those damned Manolo Blahniks I bought for my wedding—are on the floor in one crazy heap. My internet connection, through some phenomenon completely unrelated to the construction, has been out for two… Read more »