No Worries! No actual spoilers included.

You're probably wondering why in the world all this site seems to cover these days is Xanadu. It's because we're changing the name to "afterxanadu.com." Actually, make that "before_during_after_ under_behind_andkneelinginfrontof_CheyenneJackson." Dot com.

Since many of you might still be booking travel arrangements to come to New York to see the beauty that is Xanadu On Broadway in person - and you'd better hurry, or you'll officially no longer be gay - we decided it would be helpful to tide you over with a recap, unfiltered by anything distracting like intelligent writing and actual critical judgment.

When you first go into the Helen Hayes Theater, right away you can see the set, a Grecian amphitheater thingie like in that episode of Star Trek where Kirk and Spock reenact Spartacus, complete with inappropriate fondling. Suspended above the stage is what appears to be an enormous side-view car mirror. I start to worry that maybe we've walked into a new Disney show, "Honey, I Shrunk the Gays."

I also notice there are people sitting on stage who don't appear to be the actors. I can tell because only a few of the men are wearing makeup, and everyone looks uncomfortable and frightened, like they're wondering what will happen if during the show one of the actors is distracted by something shiny and decides to attack. Hah! That's what you losers get for being too cheap to fork over your life savings for a full-price ticket and too unimaginative to come up with some bogus blogging recap scam.

A woman sitting behind me opens her Playbill and says, "They made a musical from the book Wicked?" This leads me to look around the audience and notice, with surprise, that a show that's been described as the gayest thing since Happy Feet has an audience largely filled with what are clearly straight tourists. I comment on this to my wise, wonderful partner Mark, who says, "Don't worry. The gays just like to come late." And sure enough, at 5 minutes after 8, there's this mad rush as tides of hair-gelled, Kiehls-scented men storm through the theater doors, like the start of a Dolce & Gabbana sample sale.

They all stop and collectively gasp, me included, as Cheyenne Jackson comes on stage, and it immediately becomes clear what the big mirror is for - so that everyone can get a good close look at his glorious butt.

I’m still reeling from last night’s American Idol. Gwen Stefani was “guest mentor” (apparently sales for her latest album are flagging a bit so she needs the exposure). She was pleasant enough but, unlike Lulu from the week before who actually seemed to give the contestants useful advice, Stefani mostly just offered platitudes like “Lakisha’s singing makes me sweat” or, to Melinda Doolittle: “I’d tell you good luck but it sounds like you don’t need it.”

As for the performances, LaKisha and Melinda were near flawless as usual. Resident rock chick Gina Glocksen was also a standout doing a Pretenders song. Chris Richardson and Jordin Sparks (my two favorite contestants) both did well with a couple of No Doubt tunes. Blake, Phil and Haley were all just so so to me.

Chris Sligh (or the “Pillsbury ‘Fro Boy” as I like to call him) butchered “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic.” Time for him to go I think.

In the “so bad it was good category” I’d have to put Sanjaya Malakar. Continuing with his streak of absurd hairstyles, this week Sanjaya sported a “Faux Hawk” and wound up looking like a deranged cockatiel. Also, he forgot the words to his song. That poor kid. Whoever is voting for him every week – PLEASE STOP!

So far in the competition Melinda has delivered consistently flawless performances. But she’s just not that interesting to me. I think it could wind up being a race between Jordin Sparks and Chris Richardson. (I was shocked as hell last week when he wound up in the bottom two).

Any American Idol fans out there with thoughts/opinions on who might win the whole thing?