Monday, August 13, 2012

Shakespeare was an anti-semite, I guess?

YOU GUYS. Did you know that The Merchant of Venice is super racist? Because it is. I mean, I'm sure you already knew that. You're all much smarter than I am. But either I've never read The Merchant of Venice or I did and drank away forgot all knowledge of it because it took me a bit by surprise.

Friday night, Joe and I went to Free Shakespeare! with some friends (I mean, duh, I'm not talking about The Merchant of Venice for no reason). Free Shakespeare! is exactly what it sounds like (but not, like, "let Shakespeare out of his cage," more like Shakespeare that costs zero dollars), only I'm not sure if they're an Ohio group or a traveling group or what. I'm sure I could look into it a bit more and easily find the answer but YOU GUYS, I have other things to do. I told you I'm rewatching Buffy, right? That's taking up a lot of my free time, OK?

OK! Anyway. So we saw The Merchant of Venice on Friday and, as it turns out, that one is about all these terrible people who completely ruin a Jewish guy's life but don't worry, you guys, because all of those terrible people end up happy. THANK GOODNESS. I think it was supposed to be a comedy? But mostly I just felt uncomfortable.

It was fun, though, sitting outside and soaking up some culture. And I didn't even have to use my brain that much, because all of the actors wore t-shirts with their character names on them. I think this should be standard for all plays, but this is probably why they don't put me in charge of things.

I know this will surprise you, but I went out and was social on Friday AND Saturday this weekend. I KNOW. It took a lot out of me but I muddled through. My friend's birthday was on Saturday, so I went ALL THE WAY TO COLUMBUS to meet her for dinner. After dinner, we sat in a bar in the Short North, right by the window, and watched people walk by. I confessed to my friend that, anymore, going out to bars on a Saturday night mostly makes me feel old, especially when I see gaggles of mini-skirted-early-twentysomethings teeter by on giant heels at 11pm, just starting the night as I sit yawning into my beer. WHAT HAPPENED TO ME.

I haven't actually matured in my old age, though. Yesterday, Joe and I were supposed to go see E.T. AT AN ACTUAL THEATER, something I'd been talking about bragging about all week, but when I called the theater that morning to see if it was still happening, they told me the studio cancelled it! WHAT THE FUCK, SPIELBERG?! So Joe and I did the next best thing, which consisted of going to two Targets until we found a copy of E.T. and then to a bunch of other stores FOR NO RAISIN and by the time we got home, we didn't have time to watch it. Standard.

In other news, last night I had a dream that I was initiated into a secret society of famous people. Part of my initiation process was working on a creative project with one of the famous people and I really wanted to work with Simon Pegg but the leader of the secret society was all, "no, Eric is going to work with Simon Pegg," and I was convinced that it was all because I'm a woman and the leader of the secret society was sexist because Eric and I RAISED OUR DAMN HANDS AT THE SAME TIME when Simon Pegg asked who wanted to work with him and so I started a protest group within the secret society. I have no idea what Simon Pegg's creative project even was or who this Eric person was but it's nice to know that my brain thinks I'm Hermione Granger.


  1. True story:

    When I see most young women in short skirts or high heels or those shorts that allow the visualization of actual ass, I now think about what a horrible choice that was on the part of the wearer instead of the formerly testosterone-fueled WOOOOOOOOOO. Also, the arrival of students again at my institute of higher learning and the ones in the Chapel Hill/Durham area has caused me to mutter a lot of curmudgeonly crap recently, verifying the more 'Get off my lawn!' aspects of my age.

  2. Seriously, high heels hurt like hell.