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Category Archives: marriage

Maybe he’s leaving town – don’t let him get away! Hurry and track him down!

Remember last weekend, I went to (and then summarily snuck out of) Guys and Dolls? (Not because it was bad, but because poor cousin J. was getting antsy and I adore her.)

I was recapping Act II for her in the car on the way to the mall (in brief, because when you think about it, not a hell of a lot happens in Act II) and I was trying to think of the songs we’d missed. The only ones I was sad about were “Luck Be a Lady” and “Sit Down, You’re Rocking the Boat” and “Sue Me” (which I love irresponsibly – this is the first song I heard from the musical, many and many a moon ago, put on a mix by a very wise friend back in the glorious heyday of cassette mixes, sigh…and it remains my favorite to this day.)

Then I realized we’d missed “Marry the Man Today” and I was humming it a little in my house that night and thought…wait a minute. Whoa.

I don’t think I ever really paid attention to the lyrics of this song before (mostly because I kind of hate this song.) And once I did, I’m totally overjoyed that cousin J. didn’t hear it, because it’s kind of terrible and the last kind of romantic advice she needs.

Let’s take a look at this gem of a song, shall we? (my comments in italics. Because I’m fancy.) Oh, a little background, in case you need it: the two female romantic leads sing this to each other while they’re deciding whether or not to marry the MALE romantic leads, who they love, but who are CADS! CADS, I TELLS YA! (They’re not really cads, they’re just really, REALLY into gambling, to the point of ignoring their ladyfolk for it.)

And if you want to listen to it, rather than read my (MOST EXCELLENT, by the way) commentary…

Marry the Man Today (music and lyrics by Frank Loesser)

At Wanamaker’s and Saks and Klein’s
A lesson I’ve been taught
You can’t get alterations on a dress you haven’t bought

At any vegetable market from Borneo to Nome
You mustn’t squeeze a melon till you get the melon home.

(So don’t mess with something until you own it. Until it’s your property. OK. Fine. Heh, Borneo to Nome. Odd.)

You’ve simply got to gamble

You get no guarantee

Now doesn’t that kind of apply to you and I

You and me.

Why not?

Why not what?

Marry the man today.
Trouble though he may be
Much as he likes to play
Crazy and wild and free
Marry the man today
Rather than sigh in sorrow
Marry the man today
And change his ways tomorrow.

(OK. This, this right here? This is where the song takes a REALLY WORRISOME TURN.)

Marry the man today.
Marry the man today
Maybe he’s leaving town
Don’t let him get away
Hurry and track him down
Counterattack him and
Marry the man today

(OK, so first you’re going to marry him in order to change him into the man you want…then you’re going to, I don’t know, stalk him, attack him, and FORCE him to marry you. That’s not at all off-putting.)

Give him the girlish laughter
Give him your hand today
And save the fist for after.

(Hmm. I don’t…I’m going to hope this just means, like, shaking your fist at him, but the way this song’s going, I think it’s about punching.)

Slowly introduce him to the better things
Respectable, conservative, and clean
Readers Digest
Guy Lombardo
Rogers Peet
Golf!
Galoshes
Ovaltine!

(Because whatever he’s into SUCKS. You know best. You gotta train him. Like a puppy. DON’T YOU PIDDLE ON THE GOOD RUG, HAROLD! *fist*)

But marry the man today
Handle it meek and gently
Marry the man today and train him subsequently

(What did I say? Train him. TRAIN HIM. Have a treat, Rover, that’s a good boy.)

Carefully expose him to domestic life
And if he ever tries to stray from you
Have a pot roast.
Have a headache
Have a baby
have two!
Six
Nine!

(If he tries to leave your iron fist and terrible household of trickery and deceit, feed him, deny him sex, or GIVE him sex, and tie him down with NINE CHILDREN. This is a great marriage. EXCELLENT advice.)

STOP!

(Yes. Please stop.)

But marry the man today
Rather than sigh in sorrow
Marry the man today
And chance his ways – change his ways – his ways
Tomorrow!

(AND SCENE.)

OK. Now, I realize this musical was first produced on Broadway in 1950. This was a very long time ago. Amy’s Dad was a wee bebeh! Amy’s Mom wasn’t even BORN yet! It was a different time! A time in which…well, apparently, women needed to trick men into marrying them, using any means available to them, then if the man wasn’t EXACTLY WHAT THEY WANTED (and they seem to want some sort of pipe-smoking dorky sweater-wearing loser with no will of his own) they wear him down using MORE trickery until he is CHANGED! And everyone lives happily ever after. Right?

Wait, not right? No?

What about the guy?

The woman’s happy as a lark, with this changed guy who’s exactly what she wanted all along…but is this GUY happy? This guy who, apparently, can’t do anything right unless he does everything the way she wants him to, and once he gives up everything he is, she’s finally happy…but who is he now? And how can he be happy, being this ghost of the person he was before?

I know love is compromise. I’m well aware of that. This situation isn’t compromise, though. This is one-sided; compromise means BOTH people change. This is sexist garbage, is what this is.

BUT AMY! you are saying. THIS WAS A SONG WRITTEN IN 1950, SURELY THIS ISN’T SOMETHING WE WORRY ABOUT NOW!

See, it is, though. I know a lot of people who’ve broken up (marriages, serious relationships, what have you) and I hear, over and over, the same thing.

I thought he/she would change, once we were together.

Or, the opposite: He/she thought I would change, once we were together.

I asked them over and over to stop doing (whatever it is) and they just wouldn’t and I couldn’t take it anymore.

If they loved me, why wouldn’t they change?

Do you remember, a long time ago, we talked about the frog and the scorpion? This is very much a frog and scorpion situation. You knew that person was a scorpion when you picked them up.

If you get together with someone with the endgame in mind that you will change him or her to better suit your needs, you are a., a jerk for getting together with someone who has things about them that bother you so much that you need to change them in order for the relationship to work for you and b., you are in a losing game, because no one’s going to end this scenario happy.

I’m telling you right now: once you get older, you learn to pick your battles. What’s worth getting up-in-arms about and what’s worth letting go. And you learn that no one’s perfect. And you learn that life’s not a rom-com. And you learn that you can love people not only DESPITE their flaws, but BECAUSE of their flaws. Because those flaws make that person more real, and more alive, and more yours; you wouldn’t recognize that person without those flaws. (And you know what? You’re not flawless yourself, special snowflake. That person’s overlooking probably a lot of YOUR flaws, too. Keep that in mind, sunshine.)

I’m going to give you an alternative to that song.

Marry the man today – if you can’t imagine a life without being married to them. Don’t attempt to change their ways tomorrow. Their ways may or may not change. Go into this with your eyes open. Can you live with the person you’re marrying if they remain exactly like this the rest of their lives? If not, how about you don’t say yes to the dress. There’s someone out there better suited to you, and someone out there better suited for him, as well.

Go ahead and marry the man today. I’ll totally cheer for you. I’m all about the romance, yo. But if you try to trick him into it (or reverse those genders, this works for the fellas, too) and then slowly chisel away the man who DID marry you, and someday you wake up and you’re married to a stranger and he leaves you because, well, that stranger no longer wants to be married to you…

…you really have no one to blame but yourself.

And they say theater is an unneccessary art. LOOK AT ALL WE’VE LEARNED TODAY.

Happy weekend, you romantic fools. Go woo like the wind. Do me proud.

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Science: making you feel bad about your swimsuit areas. Sorry, swimsuit areas.

Apparently we’re all supposed to sleep around randomly and not ever get married ever, or maybe not.

IT IS SCIENCE! (Or maybe not.)

So I read this article a couple months ago and I saved it because it was interesting (but also totally kind of vague) and also SCIENCE and it talked about “horny papillae” and come ON, we all love to discuss things like horny papillae, don’t we? It’s like it was MADE for discussion over here.

Also, if there’s science, I think, “oh, Andreas will be so proud of me, because SCIENCE.” I do so like to make my Science Fellow proud of me.

So according to this article, back in the ancient days of yore, our ancestors (wait, we all agree we came from monkeys, right? Can we agree on that? Because if we can’t…well, I worry about your sanity. I found this for Andreas the other day and I think it would benefit ALL OF US EVERY LAST ONE OF US.)

ANYWAY, our ANCESTOR MONKEYS all had “horny papillae” on their penises. Yep. We’re totally talking about penises today. Only for a little while, though. I haven’t talked about penises OR sex lately and Ding Dong Joe’s getting all nervous I’ve forgotten about them.

Now, a lot of mammals still have these bumps. Guess what they’re for. NO GUESS.

You totally guessed for her pleasure, didn’t you? Like those terrible condoms that are lies lies lies? WRONG SALLY.

They are to make sex last LESS LONG. Yep. You read that right. Because in the animal kingdom, having Sting-style tantric sex ALL NIGHT LONG (all night) is not a good idea. You have to be doing other things. Like eating seeds and such. Or maybe other mammals or insects. Or fighting. There’s a lot of fighting in the animal kingdom, you know. Don’t you watch Animal Planet? Or Cops?

Even wee bebeh kittens fight!!!

Even wee bebeh kittens fight!!!

But HUMANS evolved PAST our horny papillae so we could trip the light fandango or get our oil changed or play hide the sausage for HOURS. Or whatever euphemisms you might like, you can pick. It’s really your call. Or if you want, you can ask Ken, he’s in charge of euphemisms. He’ll find one for you if you want. I’m sure he’d be happy to. Guy loves a challenge.

I know, I know, this has very little to do with marriage or not-marriage or all the sex, doesn’t it? I’m GETTING there. The scenic route is the way I go, chickadees, EVERY SINGLE TIME. Except for when I don’t, I like to shake off the people tailing me sometimes.

Anyway, science-types say that the reason we don’t have these bumps and lumps is to make sex last LONGER and be more PLEASING for BOTH PARTIES (whoo, THANKS, science, except for that one time…no, let’s not talk about that right now, except for to say NO THANK YOU FOR THAT TIME SCIENCE SIGH) and therefore this led to monogamy.

Except then the article got all vague and was like “although maybe not.”

Listen, article. You need to take a STAND. You need to be BRAVE. You can’t be all wishy-washy, it’s EMBARRASSING.

I learned things from this article, like only 1 in 6 societies enforce monogamy as a rule. Really? This seems low. I guess I believe it. What choice do I have? I don’t know all the rules of the world. Also I learned that back in the DAY, you weren’t allowed to have a formal concubine, but you were allowed to have all the sex with your slaves as you wanted. Well! That seems fun for the slaves. In a not-at-all fun way.

I feel the slaves maybe had enough to do without having to worry about your needs as well, guys.

I feel the slaves maybe had enough to do without having to worry about your needs as well, guys.

Then they talked to some sciency types who said “There are a few species that are monogamous…the fat-tailed dwarf lemur. The Malagasy giant jumping rat. You’ve got to look in the nooks and crannies to find them, though.”

Hee, “nooks and crannies.” Also, I’d have to wonder if it’s in the name. Like, who’d want to sleep with a fat-tailed dwarf lemur, or a Malagasy giant jumping rat? No one. Also, don’t call animals fat. Call ’em big-boned. It hurts their feelings to call them fat. They can’t help their genetics or if they like to eat all the snack cakes while watching Cheaters.

Stop negatively attacking my self-esteem, says the fat-tailed dwarf lemur. This one's name is Petunia.

Stop negatively attacking my self-esteem, says the fat-tailed dwarf lemur. This one’s name is Petunia.

Then the article started talking about testes size. YEP! We’re talking about PENISES and also TESTICLES today. Apparently animals that  cheat a lot have HUGE BALLS. Heh. So as better to spread all the seed. Then the article says – I’m not even kidding, sorry, fellas – “And what about a man’s testes? They’re not so big and not so little. They’re just eh.” Aw! Guys! Apparently human testes are just EH! I feel bad for your testes. THEY ARE LOVELY, GUYS. Don’t let the article make you feel bad about your swimsuit areas. BAD ARTICLE BAD.

Mostly, what the article said was “we don’t know if humans used to be monogamous or polygamous. Because we have no way of knowing such things. We think humans are monogamISH. WE SAID ISH. And we are SCIENTISTS. So stuff that in your pipes and smoke it.”

This worries me. Why can’t the scientists figure this shit out? (P.S., Andreas says that scientists don’t like to say “YES!” or “NO!” because if they’re wrong they look like assholes. Well, he didn’t say THAT. He’s much less vulgar and more well-spoken than I am. THANK YOU ANDREAS!)

Here’s my thought. (What, you thought I’d let it go without giving you my very sciency thoughts? Andreas, you need to read this article and give your thoughts, by the way. I bet you do better than the scientists. You can even say penis and testes as much as you want, and it’s not even filthy. I KNOW! Isn’t this the best? Sure it is.)

I know some people are all “I could never love just one person!” and that’s awesome. I don’t judge. (Well, unless you don’t tell the person you’re currently WITH you feel this way. I don’t think cheating is cool. I have weird values about cheating. Don’t ask. It’s one of my weirdly puritanical things. Or maybe it’s one of my weirdly Wiccan things – you’re not supposed to harm anyone in the Wiccan faith. And cheating always harms someone. Or multiple someones. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I also think it’s sneaky. I hate sneakiness and I hate lying.)

Also if you're not careful you'll end up on this show and it's SCANDALOUS, you guys.

Also if you’re not careful you’ll end up on this show and it’s SCANDALOUS, you guys.

But I’m very one-persony. If I’m in love with someone…that’s my person. I’m a baby duck who imprinted when I’m in love with someone, I’ll totally admit it. Mostly this might be because it doesn’t happen very often? And so when it does, that person is SPECIAL. Also, I fight it. I realize I’m falling for someone and I’m like “NOPE STOP THAT THIS WON’T END WELL!” but if it’s meant to be, my stupid heart wins out and then I’m in for trouble. Hoo, boy, am I. So if I went through ALL THAT why would I want to be with someone ELSE? That was a lot of work. A LOT of work.

Here's me. Imprinting on a corgi, apparently.

Here’s me. Imprinting on a corgi, apparently.

So…I guess mostly I don’t understand polygamy? Because I don’t WANT to be with more than one person. I want ONE person. And hopefully that imaginary nebulous person would feel the same? I mean, that would be the goal, anyway? Also, I’m a (what? shock! awe!) very jealous person. I always thought that would be the worst part of being in a polygamous relationship. Wouldn’t you be so jealous of the other wives (or if you’re male, husbands?) Wouldn’t you think, “s/he looked at my sister wife/brother husband a little longer than s/he looked at me at dinner…does s/he like them better? WHY WHY WHY?” and then the whole thing would self-destruct?

Maybe most people aren’t as jealous as I am? What say you, readers, don’t you think you’d get so jealous if your husband was having sex with say 5 other women or something, or vice-versa sex-wise, men? Or am I out of my mind and old-fashioned and it would be awesome?

So…are we SUPPOSED to be monogamous? I don’t know. Probably not. I think we’re SUPPOSED to probably spread the seed all over and make a billion babies, right? That’s the way mammals work, isn’t it? Procreate? All you can? Like bunnies?

(This is mostly for Andreas because I know he loves this song as much as I do.)

(This is mostly for Andreas because I know he loves this song as much as I do.)

I guess what you decide to do really boils down to how your heart works. And some of us have weird loyal clockwork hearts that latch onto one person and that’s it, we’re done; and some of us are more open to lots of love, I suppose. Either way’s cool with me, just, like I said, don’t hurt anyone.

So…in summation:

  • horny papillae
  • penis
  • testes

You’re welcome, Ding Dong Joe. Don’t say I never gave you anything.


You could drive a person crazy; you could drive a person mad

Want a Dad conversation? Sure you do.

Dad: Hey, I can’t say what I want to say.
Me: Hmm. That’s going to make this a really awkward conversation. Lots of guessing.
Dad: Because…the person…I am talking…um…about…
Me: Do you want to say something about Mom?
Dad: YES.
Me: Is she right there?
Dad: YES.
Me: Awesome. This is like being a Navajo codetalker.


Dad: NO.
Me: You don’t have to say Navajo codetalker in code. Mom won’t know that’s about her.
Dad: OFF-TOPIC.
Me: Fine. What’s up, Secretive Sam?
Dad: Remember once there was talk of people trying to drive you insane?
Me: Um. Oh, like gaslighting? Like my friend Chris said his wife did to him?


Dad: YES THAT.
Me: Is Mom trying to make you think you’re insane?
Dad: YES.
Me: What happened?
Dad: A person came to me today and asked if I took little white pills.
Me: The person is Mom? She’s going to know you’re talking about her now.
Dad: No. I am hiding by the back door.
Me: Oh, that’s not at all suspect.
Dad: She’ll think I’m checking the satellite dish.
Me: Because…you often check the dish? For…what, tampering?

TAMPERING!

Dad: STOP OVERTHINKING I DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME.
Me: Fine, fine. What happened with the pills.
Dad: So I said, “Yes, of course I take little white pills. I take a lot of pills.”
Me: OK. That’s not tricky. So far, so good.
Dad: You’re sticking up for her. Stop that.
Me: I am not. I don’t even know the story. Go on.
Dad: So she said, “Do you keep your pills in the freezer?”

What, you don’t keep your pills in here? Also, what’s up with this freezer? It’s so OCD-neat it’s making me itch.

Me: Well, now I’m curious. Do you?
Dad: Of course I don’t. Pills are not ice.
Me: No, no they’re not. Why did she ask that?
Dad: That what I said! And she said, “Is this one of your pills?” And gave me a little white pill.

MYSTERY PILL!

Me: And? Was it one of your pills?
Dad: Well, at first I was not sure. So I took out my magnifying glass, and I compared it to one of the pills from the bottle. IT WAS A MATCH.
Me: Um. OK. That was certainly thorough of you. Did she find the pill in the freezer?

What, you don’t have one of these around for handy freezer-pill identification? FOR SHAME.

Dad: You are jumping ahead.
Me: Sorry. It’s just that we’ve been talking for like a month now. About freezer-pills.
Dad: You don’t even know they’re freezer-pills, because I didn’t get to that part of the story yet!
Me: I used my powers of deduction. Go on.
Dad: So I said, “Yes, this is one of my pills. Where did you find this?” and she said, “It was in the freezer.”
Me: Aha! The game is AFOOT, Watson!
Dad: How come you’re Holmes? Watson’s a dummy. I don’t want to be Watson.
Me: Yeah, you should see the new Sherlock. Watson’s not a dummy at all. You’d be HAPPY to be Watson.

Is it time for more “Sherlock” yet?

Dad: What I found mysterious about the whole thing is that the pill? WAS NOT EVEN COLD.
Me: Dad, it’s a little tiny pill. It’s not metal or ice. It’s not going to retain the cold. That’s not how physics works, I don’t think.
Dad: Always sticking up for your mother. Is it because you’re both women?
Me: SIGH. Go on.
Dad: So she said, “I found this pill stuck to a cheese bag. Why was this pill stuck to a cheese bag?”
Me: Well, why WAS it stuck to a cheese bag? Hee, cheese bag.

CHEESE BAG!

Dad: I DON’T THINK IT WAS. SHE IS GASOLINING ME.
Me: Gaslighting. Is there any way you could have dropped it in the freezer? When do you take this pill? In the morning, or at night? Do you hold it in your hand when you go to the freezer for ice or something?
Dad: STOP TRYING TO FIGURE THIS ALL OUT. She is TRYING TO MAKE ME THINK I’M INSANE.
Me: This is a very nefarious plot she’s hatched, buddy. I mean, way to start small, right? A tiny pill, stuck to a cheese bag. Heh. Cheese bag.
Dad: I think the words “cheese bag” are making you laugh more than anyone should. It’s not that funny.
Me: It sounds like an insult. “Get away from me, you stinkin’ cheese bag.”
Dad: Yeah, it kind of does. Heh. Cheese bag.
Me: Listen! I have a story about things in the freezer from when I was in college.
Dad: Is this a sex story? I don’t want to hear about you having sex in college.
Me: …I don’t even…what about “freezer” makes you think I’m going to talk about my sex life? You’re so weird.
Dad: FINE TELL THE STORY. But if there’s sex in it I’m hanging right up.
Me: When I was in college, my roommate S. went out one night. I did not. She came home super-late. Or, early, I guess. I was asleep, I didn’t know what time. Anyway, she was super-drunk when she came home. I woke up and she was still asleep, but her shoes were in the bathtub and her skirt was in the living room and stuff. Super-drunk. These things happen.

Nope, never made my bed next to the toilet for easy vomiting access. Nope nope nope. Not me.

Dad: Not to my daughter!
Me: Yeah. Heh. Never to me. EVER. ANYWAY, when she finally woke up, she was tearing the house apart looking for something. All over the place. And I said, “What are you looking for?” and she said, “I can’t find my keys, I had them when I got home last night, but now they are GONE.” And we looked for a while, but they were nowhere to be found. So it was hot, and I went to get a popsicle, and in the freezer? Her keys. So I was all, “S.! I have found your keys. Did you get something out of the freezer last night?” and she was all, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT I DID LAST NIGHT.” And that sums up college well, I think.
Dad: What does this have to do with me? I’m not drunk in the mornings when I take my pill.
Me: I know. I’m just saying, sometimes things end up in freezers. It’s not without precedent.
Dad: Someday, your mother is going to call you up and say, “I had your father committed, because he was crazy.” When that day happens, please come spring me out of the pokey.

My dad’s going to the cuckoo’s nest!

Me: I don’t think you call the mental institution the pokey. I think it’s the nuthouse or something.
Dad: It’s the same thing. You have to come get me out. You know I’m not crazy. I did not put a pill in the freezer. Why would I do that?
Me: OK, Dad. I promise. I’ll bake you a cake with a file in it.
Dad: THIS IS NOT FUNNY.
Me: It’s a little funny, you cheese bag.

When I talked to my mom, she said, “Your father said those pills are so small he drops them all over the place and he probably had one stuck to his hand when he reached into the freezer for the bread. He makes everything a huge story. I can’t even IMAGINE where you and your brother get your storytelling tendencies. Not from the NEIGHBORS, that’s for sure.”

I think the funniest part of this story is that Dad went on and on and ON about how Mom was trying to drive him crazy but then he told her that he probably did it after all. Or maybe he just told her that she she wouldn’t think she won the gaslighting?

Sometimes I think it was a very good thing my life didn’t lead me to marriage. I would be extraordinarily bad at this.


“Would thou’ldst be ruled by me!” “Madam, I will.” Aaand…MARRIED.

You’ve been getting a lot of posts o’randomness lately. Sorry! Brain’s FULL of randomness.

Today we have many things to discuss! Theater and job interviews and exciting book news. ALL THE THINGS. What do these things have in common? Well, shit, nothing, other than they all happened in the last 24 hours in Amy-land, dammit.

Let’s see. First, in exciting book news, last night, right before I went to sleep (much too late, because I was up much too late because I got home late and said, “Amy, you should go to bed now” but then Twitter was interesting and fun and I got sucked into the black hole of the internet, as I often do) I saw this tweet:

So of course I clicked, because I wanted to see what the September read for my book club is. (I’ve mentioned this before, but the Geek Girls Book Club is my online book club, and where I’ve met some of my favorite people. It’s grown in leaps and bounds and it’s a huge group of some of the most amazing geeks in the world. Not just girls. Boys, too. We’re all-inclusive.)

ZOMG YOU GUYS! Out of True and Elegantly Wasted were chosen as the September reads for the GGBC!

So I immediately was all teary-eyed and fluttery and Wayne’s World “I am not WORTHY” about the whole thing because that’s how I handle good things when they happen to me, you see.

I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy!

My book was chosen as the read for my book club! I’m kind of in shock about that. Lots of people will (well, potentially) be reading my book! And I can talk to them about it! Oh, this is exciting. This is so exciting.

(As a side note, probably I should be MORE excited that people will be buying it? Because, yay! More money! But honestly, and this is why I’m never going to be a multi-billionaire-poetry-lady, it’s more exciting to have people read what I’ve written than get paid for it. Don’t get me wrong, money? it is awesome. But having people read what you’ve written is even MORE awesome. I know. I don’t have the mindset of a millionaire. I’m a self-defeating prophecy.)

So, thank you thank you THANK YOU to @Nikkisticks, who not only gave me a gang to run with when I was a shaky-legged newbie to the Twitter scene, but who tirelessly campaigns for the awesomeness of geeks and books and reading everywhere. You know how some people are good people? She’s the BEST people.

Now: theater! Last night, we had our critique for our first show of the season over at my theater. We’re doing Twelfth Night. I’ve seen the show before (in London once, doesn’t THAT make me sound fancy, and a recording of the – I think? – Broadway version with Helen Hunt and Paul Rudd once) and I love it much. I think I love it for the wrong reasons, because the first time I saw it (I’ve mentioned this, I think?) the director made the choice to show Malvolio as a bullying victim, which I thought (and still do) was a strong choice (not, perhaps, what Shakespeare intended…but that’s one of the many things I love about Shakespeare, how well it lends itself to various interpretations.) I enjoyed myself very much, and think the show will do well.

Here is a thing that made me laugh and laugh, which was not intended. I assume it was a Shakespeare thing. Maybe it was something that happened in Shakespeare-times, who knows.

Hee, I like this painting. Look at his little hair-poof!

So, ok. A little backstory. Identical twins Sebastian and Viola shipwreck on Illyria, separately. Each assume the other is dead. So she is not raped and murdered or whatever, Viola pretends to be a boy, Cesario, and goes to be the servant of the Duke of Illyria, Orsino. She (of course) falls in love with him. He, in turn (stick with me, cupcakes) is in love with Olivia. So he keeps sending Cesario off to woo Olivia for him. (I guess that’s a thing they did, back in the day, I don’t know.) Olivia IMMEDIATELY falls for Cesario, because she thinks Cesario is a fella. Even though Cesario is a LADY IN DISGUISE. Cesario keeps saying, “Not interested, Olivia!” Olivia keeps saying, “BUT I LOVE YOU CESARIO!”

Here’s Anne Hathaway as Cesario. Listen, I’d have a crush on her too, let’s just say it.

So eventually, Sebastian wanders upon this whole scene o’craziness. Olivia sees him and assumes he’s Cesario, because, as mentioned, identical twins. She’s all, as she has been for days, “I LOVE YOU CESARIO!” And Sebastian, even though he was just called the totally wrong name? Is all, “Um…ok! I LOVE YOU TOO!” and then they get MARRIED. Yep, you read that right. Sebastian marries this chick – who called him by the wrong name – FIVE MINUTES AFTER HE MEETS HER.

No, I’m not Cesario. Eh, screw it, let’s get MARRIED FOREVER.

What? Seriously? She might be a looney! You don’t know who this chick is! And she thinks you’re someone else, you goofball! Nope, it’s ok, I WILL MARRY YOU NOW! I laughed and laughed about that. I’m pretty sure that part isn’t supposed to be funny, either. I just liked the immediacy of it. Talk about a call-me-maybe situation. Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, I think you’re someone else, marry me, baby.

Anyway, as I know you’re all WAITING WITH BATED BREATH to know what happens to those kooky twins, Sebastian and Cesario/Viola are reunited, which means that Viola no longer has to pretend to be a boy because now her brother can protect her delicate flower, and she can be a lady again. And Orsino, who’s been SO CONFUSED about his feelings for a BOY, breathes a sigh of relief that his servant was a lady all along and asks her to marry him. So Sebastian and Olivia (who apparently doesn’t care which of the twins she gets, as long as she gets one of them) and Orsino and Viola are all happy-happy-joy-joy couples, huzzah! There’s also a side plot involving the hijinks Olivia’s servants get up to, but that’s for another day.

Here’s an actual photo from our production (by the inimitable Tom Killips, thanks, Tom!) Orsino and Viola on your left, Olivia and Sebastian on your right.

So, what I took away from the show, other than it was lovely and the audience will enjoy themselves a great deal, is that back in Shakespeare’s day, people got married IMMEDIATELY. Hee!

In job interview news, I had a phone interview today. Those are always strange. On one hand, a little less stressful, because you can do them in your pajamas. (No, I didn’t. But I could have. I didn’t, though.) On the other hand, a little weird, because you’re trying to be the best on the phone, and I’m a little weird on the phone. I have phone phobia. And I tend to fill in the gaps with LOTS OF TALK. Because I get nervous.

Seemed to go well – I didn’t get that weirdness-vibe I get sometimes – but it’s hard to tell over the phone. He has a lot more phone interviews lined up for the next two weeks so said he’d get back to me in a couple of weeks letting me know if I’d made the cut for a face-to-face interview. So we’ll see. Patience may be a virtue, but it’s sure as hell not one of mine. Gah. I do a lot of finger-drumming and waiting around and DEEP DEEP SIGHING.

So, happy Saturday to you all. Enjoy your weekend! And remember, if you get stranded on a deserted island, probably you should marry the first chick who calls you by the wrong name. SHAKESPEARE SAYS SO.


Aaah, a marriage made in heaven. A frog and a pig. We can have bouncing baby figs.

One of my readers, the lovely Angela (hi, the lovely Angela!), upon reading my post about our sad young friend in Bali who fell very much in love with a very seductive cow and then lost his love to some angry villagers and a watery death, thought that further investigation needed to be done into interspecies marriage, because listen, that article was totally not in-depth enough. We both felt bad for the poor cow, and were wondering if the drowning happened pre- or post-nuptials, and in what language the nuptials were conducted? Balinese or Cow? And what language IS cow, anyway? Does it even have a name, or is it just called Cow? Because I can’t imagine that’s the case. That would be like if all human language was just called Human. That seems…speciesist, somehow. We aren’t living in the Tower of Babel, here.

THE TOWER OF BABEL! COW-LANGUAGE! HUMAN-LANGUAGE! ALL A’SMISH-SMASH!

Anyway, in honor of Angela – do not let it be said I do not love my readers! – I did EXTENSIVE RESEARCH into interspecies marriage. I am NOT going to go into interspecies CONSUMMATION of the interspecies marriage; because, well, ew, and I don’t want to become the place where people go for all manner of bestiality advice and/or information. I’m sure there ARE such places people can go for such things. There’s EVERYTHING on the internet. I just don’t think it needs to be HERE. I mean, sure, I’m all for new readers. I just don’t think THAT sort of readers. Because they’d just get disappointed if they came back a few times and realized I wasn’t supplying a constant source of animal pornery.

SO, due to the WONDER of the INTERNET, I have researched interspecies marriage for you. Surprisingly, there wasn’t as much out there as you might think. I know! It’s kind of shocking.

EXAMPLE THE FIRST

A Very High-Profile Interspecies Relationship

For over thirty years, a very high-profile interspecies relationship has been going on RIGHT UNDER OUR NOSES. Right under them! And according to my VERY IN-DEPTH RESEARCH, they MAY WELL BE LIVING IN SIN, you guys! SIN! This cannot stand, I mean, come on, now. Sinful sinfulness! This couple had their own television show, shoving their liberal agenda down our throats for years. Once their show ended, they continued their hippie-dippie love-in shit with movies. MOVIES! Not only that – MOVIES THAT WE SHOW OUR CHILDREN! I know, you’re all probably shocked beyond belief.

Who’s involved in this relationship, you’re asking yourself? AND HOW CAN WE STOP THIS?

Yep. I know. It’s pretty horrifying. A PIG. And a FROG.

According to this strangely in-depth and really well-researched entry from something called “Muppet Wiki” (yep, who knew? That’s totally a thing) Kermit and Miss Piggy have been telling differing stories about their relationship for years. Sometimes they say they’re married; sometimes they say they’re living in sin; sometimes they say they are very much in love; sometimes they say they’ve broken up. They have their ups and downs, those two. Well, what can you expect from a cold-blooded and a hot-blooded species? They’re not meant to get along. Also, not to get disgusting (I KNOW, I promised I wasn’t going to go into this) but male frogs climb on female frogs’ backs and fertilize their eggs as they lay them. I’m pretty sure that isn’t going to satisfy someone as high-maintenance as Miss Piggy. Hi-ya! (Also, she doesn’t seem like someone who’d want all that mess. She seems very…I don’t know, cleanly.)

STOP TOUCHING ME THERE, FROGGY.

I know some of you are saying, “AMY! I know they’re married, I saw them get married!” Well, my little strawberry shortcakes, if you remember correctly, that was a dream sequence/part of the musical (I don’t remember, it’s been years since I watched that – wasn’t it part of the musical, but Miss Piggy hired a real minister to make it real, or something?) in The Muppets Take Manhattan.

So there you go. Damn hippies trying to FORCE INTERSPECIES MARRIAGE down our THROATS. Don’t even get me started on Gonzo and those chickens. Although I don’t think he ever married any of them, and also I don’t know that Gonzo is an animal. What the hell IS Gonzo, anyway? (Huh. The internet says he’s an alien. Also, be careful, babes. If you don’t specify and just Google “what is Gonzo,” you get a page called “What is gonzo porn?” and then you of COURSE have to READ that, because you’re CURIOUS like a CAT, then you imagine how FUNNY that might be to WATCH, then you’ve lost 30 minutes.)

EXAMPLE THE SECOND

It’s Not All Bollywood and Nose-Piercing Over There

In India, it’s a custom (not a COMMON custom, but a custom nonetheless) to marry a dog for a variety of reasons.

Ooh, look, a MANUAL.

In 2003, a girl in India married a dog to ward off an evil spell. How did they know she had an evil spell cast upon her? Because she had a tooth that wouldn’t come out of her upper gum. Don’t ask any further questions than that. It can only lead to madness, I’m sure. So in order to break the evil tooth-spell, she had to marry the village’s stray dog. Because that’s a thing that they do. I’m not here to judge. She doesn’t have to do anything ICKY with the dog. It’s a ceremonial thing. And she’s free to marry a human when she grows up. So it’s a cultural thing, I guess. Also, dogs are pretty awesome.

VERY dapper.

Then a man in India in 2007 married a dog to atone for the fact that he murdered two dogs years before, and HE was under an evil curse. (I’m tending to believe more in the dog-murder curse than the tooth-gum curse, to be honest.) He was a total dickweed and he stoned two dogs to death and HUNG THEM FROM TREES (he’s totally being haunted by dog-ghosts and GOOD, you GO, dog-ghosts, eat his WHOLE FACE OFF) and then he was all, “Damn, I feel like I’m under a little black raincloud, HOW TO FIX THIS?” and then he married the town’s stray dog. I feel like, based on these articles, Indian villages may have a lot of stray dogs. That they marry. For curse-reasons.

You may kiss the bride! A wet, sloppy kiss.

Then, in 2009, an infant in India had to marry a stray dog because otherwise in the future, it was predicted he’d be eaten by a tiger. Again, he can marry a human when he grows up. And he WILL grow up. Non-tiger-eaten. Because of his marriage to a dog. I would include a link to my source material on this one like a REAL GROWNUP JOURNALIST but MSN pulled the article and I cobbled it together from the comments on their pulled article and the Wikipedia. You can probably find it if you’re crafty. Or just accuse me of lying, I’m down with that.

No eatin’ by a tiger! Not for THIS baby!

FINALLY, in dog-marriage news (but NOT in India) a man married his dog in Australia a couple of years ago. “What curse was HE under, Amy?” you’re asking. None. He just really, really, REALLY loved his dog. (I’m really hoping in a bro-way, and not anything else. I refuse to think of anything else. NOTHING ELSE.)

EXAMPLE THE THIRD

Too Shocking for Springer. TOO SHOCKING FOR EVEN SPRINGER!

In 1998, Jerry Springer had an episode titled “I Married a Horse.” It was considered TOO SHOCKING FOR TELEVISION, and not allowed to be aired. (Also on the episode along with the horse-dude were a lady who was in a very…um…graphic relationship with her Schnauzer and a man who was an equal-opportunity dog-lovah and hadn’t settled on any specific special lady yet. Or, bitch, I guess.)

Because THIS is much less offensive than HORSE MARRIAGE.

The horse-dude also had a documentary made about him. (Best comment on that post? The one about the “stable” relationship. Heh. I’m a pre-teen boy with my sense of humor.)

The moral here? America is down with baby-daddy-drama and people ripping out each other’s weaves and a lot of bleeped cussing, but NOT ok with animal…um…husbandry.

EXAMPLE THE FOURTH

You Can’t Always Expect Goat-Marriage

I’m kind of poaching on Ken’s territory here. Because, you remember, right? You remember the rule?

And also, “you can’t always expect goats” is totally Ken’s thing. Look, he’s the first thing that comes up when you search that on Google and everything. As it should be. But this very all-inclusive research piece I’m doing on behalf of the BETTERMENT of the WORLD would not be complete without mentioning this.

In Sudan (or is it “the” Sudan? Because we don’t say “the” America or “the” Finland or whatever) a man was startled while performing goat-loving. “When I asked him: ‘What are you doing there?’, he fell off the back of the goat, so I captured and tied him up,” the owner said.

The owner left the goat-aficionado tied up, and went to the “council of elders” (um, AWESOME, I want a “council of elders,” even better, I want to be ON a council of elders, I would be VERY MERCIFUL, most of the time) and the council of elders said (if I may paraphrase, because it’s like this might be my audition for the council of elders) “Dude! Don’t go to the po-po. Make him pay you some sweet dinero, and then make him marry the goat, since he’s already used her like a wife, yo.”

Aw. So pretty! White is totally her color.

SO THAT HAPPENED.

The guy married the goat, and they lived in wedded bliss for about a year, until the goat died of VERY suspicious circumstances (“choking on a plastic bag” which I think is a Rough on Rats excuse if I’ve ever heard one) and the best part of the Wikipedia entry is “The goat was survived by a 4-month-old kid.” Well. That means the goat either a., cheated on her husband, or b., the man and his goat had an interspecies BABY.

EXAMPLE THE FIFTH

Marrying dogs and turtles = marrying the person you love

According to some very progressive politicians* (*not at all progressive) we’re all one step away from marrying animals anyway.

You see, here in the United States, we have six states (Connecticut, Iowa, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York – YAY NEW YORK – and Vermont) that allow same-sex couples to marry, and recognize their marriages with the same rights and privileges as any other couple. AS EVERY STATE SHOULD FOR THE LOVE OF PETE. Cough. Cough cough. Sorry. My politics slipped in. Pardon MOI.

BUT, with each state that allows same-sex marriage to happen, we’re closer to the total breakdown of society. And that total breakdown comes in the guise of marrying DOGS and TURTLES.

Per Rick Santorum:

“In every society, the definition of marriage has not ever to my knowledge included homosexuality. That’s not to pick on homosexuality. It’s not, you know, man on child, man on dog, or whatever the case may be. It is one thing. And when you destroy that you have a dramatic impact on the quality.”

And per Bill O’Reilly:

“Bill O’Reilly again theorized that the legalization of gay marriage could lead to interspecies marriages, stating to Margaret Hoover, ‘[Y]ou would let everybody get married who want to get married. You want to marry a turtle, you can.’ O’Reilly has previously suggested that gay marriage could ultimately allow for a person to marry a goat, duck, or dolphin.”

Well! Goats, ducks, dolphins, turtles, and dogs! That’s quite a damn petting zoo of marriage. Dammit, gays! STOP RUINING SOCIETY WITH FORCING ME TO MARRY ANIMALS! Oh, what, wait, you’re not…your marriage is not forcing me to marry an animal? And it’s a civil rights issue and no one’s telling me I can’t marry the person I love, were I to actually find someone to love, AND it totally injects all kinds of money into my state’s economy? Well, shit, marry it up, gays. Marry. It. Up. I’ll run the risk of duck-marriage, and since goats are Ken’s, he’s in charge of that situation.

ME TOO!

EXAMPLE THE SIXTH AND FINAL

A Very Strangely-Written Folk Tale

According to this Cheyenne folk tale, which I believe has lost something in translation or writing or whatever, a chief’s daughter had illicit relations in the middle of some very dark night on her hands and when she hugged him, she put red handmarks on his back. The next day, at a dance, she looked for the man with red handmarks on his back (because…no one bathed there?) and none of the men had red-handy-backs. BUT A DOG DID DUN DUN DUNNNNN. The chief’s daughter was mega-sad that her lovah had been a dog. (Nowhere in this story was it mentioned that she’d had sex with a shapeshifter of some sort. How did she not KNOW it was a dog? Was he not furry with a tail and smaller than a human? CONFUSING.)

J’ACCUSE!

Because she was sad (or a psychopath) she took the dog into the woods and beat it but it ran away. (Um, yeah. OF COURSE IT DID.) Then she gave birth to seven puppies. As you do.

She hated her puppies and told her mom to KILL THEM KILL THEM ALL but her mom was all “those ma grandpuppies, yo!” and took care of them. Their mom eventually was like, “Huh, I guess I don’t hate my litter as much as I thought. I guess I can throw a tennis ball around with them a little or whatever.” BUT! Once they were old enough, their dad showed up and took them away LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT.

Aw, MOM. Why don’t you love us? Boo.

The chief’s daughter was super-sad and was all, “Hey, mom, make me a bunch of puppy-moccasins, I’M GOING TO GET MA BABEHS” and then chased them down. They were in a tent with a young man who ignored her. (Probably because when he was a dog, SHE KICKED THE SHIT OUT OF HIM?) She fell asleep, and when she woke up, the kiddos and her ex-lovah were gone. This went on for 3 more nights. On the fourth night, she could not find them, and thought to look up in the sky (I don’t know why) and saw her puppies, which were now the constellation the Pleiades.

There are only 7 stars in this. Where did the shapeshifting dad go?

What is the MOST confusing about this is that it’s called “The Girl Who Married a Dog” and she CLEARLY did not marry a dog. She had some SEX with a SHAPESHIFTER who was either always a dog, or masquerading as one, and then gave birth to a litter of star-puppies. Also she was an animal abuser and a negligent mom.

This is a very confusing folk tale.

There! Angela, ALL THE RESEARCH into interspecies marriage! I don’t know if we know any more than we did when we started, and we’re still not any further along in understanding why they drowned that damn cow…but! ALL THE RESEARCH! ALL FOR YOU DAMIEN!


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