Forgive me while I rant. I don't do it often, at least not seriously. I gripe and moan all the time, but that's just to let off some healthy steam. My husband says he can tell when I'm really angry with him -- it's when I finally shut up.

My son's play was this weekend, Disney's "High School Musical."

Okay, Sweeney Todd, it wasn't. (can't WAIT to see Lane Davies in the Nashville Rep production.) But it was fun and cute and had some catchy songs in it.

I'm told my son had the second male lead, but I'm not really sure. EVERY TIME he was on stage, the girls sitting next to us felt compelled to get out of their seats, or back into their seats, or their parents showed up (halfway into the first act) and demanded our seats because they didn't know how to read their own stubs.

I often say the root of the world's problems is intolerance, but I'm guilty of it here, because the second root of the world's problems is being inconsiderate. I can't tolerate inconsideration.

Please, folks, when you go to the theater, such as the upcoming "Flapper" at The Fly, remember that those in front of whom you are walking, talking and texting, are there to see their children.

Let us see the play.

If you're late -- wait.

And lay off the cologne, guys. If you need that much for odor control, can I suggest a shower?