Ask around. I'm not the jealous type.
I have green tendencies at times, but they're really pretty rare. Every few years, I'm guessing. I don't covet people's diamonds or homes or cars or children. That's not to say I don't have a tremendous number of other foibles - because I do. I really am a rotten, stinking person - I just don't suffer from jealousy a lot.
For a long time, I've enjoyed the music of Wicked. The girls and I dance around to it and looooove it. We know all the words.
This year, Jackie Oh and I read the book. Frankly, it's a smutty, trashy, yuck that she and I both put down more times than I can recall. I thought it was vile. I couldn't reconcile how such wonderful music could have sprung from such a pervy book. Still, I read on, because I was convinced I was going to see the play.
I had hoped to surprise Jackie with a pair of tickets for her and I to go and see it. Ohhh, I tried to get tickets. I tried and tried and tried. As soon as they were on sale, I spent half a day clicking and clicking and entering codes and waiting for best available seats - and the best deal I could find were tickets at $154 a person. And that price was before all the fees, taxes, and mandatory pre-paid $20 for the parking garage.
Needless to say, I am not taking Jackie. We suffered through the book for nothing. The sexual exploits of puppets - a husband and wife cheating on each other with the same man - yup - I read it all and skimmed what I could hoping somewhere in the text, it would tie in to the beautiful music I love.
It never did and I wish I could Clorox my brain out.
So - big deal, right? I'm not going. I'll just have left in my brain the rotten stinking book and someday I'll forget.
Except... Everyone I know is going. People who are broke, are going.
People who are students and don't work, are going.
People who have been in jail this year, are going.
People who are divorcing their spouse, are going. (With each other!)
People who complain they hate the theater, are going.
EVERYONE IS GOING BUT ME!
WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH
I keep asking the theater-goers if they have read the book. I haven't met a one who has read the book, yet.
And I wouldn't be so bitter, but I read that horrible book anticipating going - am not getting to go - and have that filthy book stuck in my brain! And no one else has the filth in their head AND they are going to hear the beautiful music.
What I learned from this is that I will never again read smut. OK - never is a long time, but not any time in the foreseeable future are smut and I going to hook up. I'm getting too old. I'm a prude. And in the end, what're the chances you'll get tickets to the musical after you endured the smut? Low chances, my friends. Loooow chances.
There. I got that off my chest. I'll carry on with my other vices now and leave jealousy behind.
Yours truly,
Elphaba
