How do we find the words to express poetry, passion – love – when we are abysmally romantically dysfunctional …or…raised in Brooklyn? Well… Sometimes we need A RING, a simple, shiny token that for a moment illuminates what we feel despite the lack of heartfelt words, that nudges us–whispers to us–in that precipitous moment when we are suddenly faced with having love or losing it, that we had better find those words somehow. This is the musical tale of seven love-starved misfits, romantic at heart but not of mouth, and "that frickin' ring" that tried to cure them.


It is 1989. GINA is miserable, having one of her bad-hair, feeling bloated, Brooklyn housewife afternoons picking up after her insensitive husband who has opted to plant himself in front of the New York Knicks game instead of taking her to the movies as promised. The mailman arrives with an envelope for–not just GINA–but for a handful of motley Brooklynites. They simultaneously read: "The 1979 Graduating Class of Franklin Delano Roosevelt High School, Brooklyn New York, cordially invites you to a… 10-YEAR REUNION. Oh my gawwd…!" The color is drained from GINA's face as her thoughts quickly go back to ten years ago. This reunion is an event she's been dreading–dreading because there is a certain ring of hers, a very special ring that was given to her by her high school sweetheart, that she is certain will show up at the reunion on the finger of a certain nemesis (and slut) who got away with stealing it from her ten years ago "…OH MY GAWWD…!" GINA stands examining herself in her bedroom mirror, not very happy with who she sees and wonders, "should I go?" Our Brooklyn housewife, although jittery and apprehensive, makes up her mind. "You bet your ass, I'm going to the reunion!" And with that, let the fireworks…and THE RING…fly!!