High school seems like an apt setting for the type of jealousy and back-stabbery of Othello. And though I’m not sure  I’d ever be prompted to watch O (probably because of Julia Stiles, and despite Mekhi Phifer), I did let Quentin Tarantino talk me into watching Switchblade Sisters, a loosely based rendition in pure cult cheese.

I really related to this film.  Even though I wasn’t in a girl gang, I was in the flute section in marching band, and that’s really close. And even though I didn’t have girlfriends lying to me about my other girlfriends to win my affections, I did have a really jealous boyfriend who was his own Iago, whispering lies to himself.

He was jealous of everything. First, my sister, then my best friends. Then there was the gay trumpet player, who had a huge crush on me, but only in the boyfriend’s disturbed mind. There was the guy at the beach, which I almost understood, but not really. But the one that really got me, was the dog.

He was jealous of his own dog, the same dog he would take to the beach to pick up girls before we started dating. That cute, furry little maltese was a chick magnet. He was a wing man, a partner in crime, an accomplice. Until that furry little traitor started taking my side in arguments and snuggling up to me instead of his master.

It was hard to escape alive in such a tragedy, but I did it. And when it was all done, I think he was right to be jealous of the dog. I didn’t look back. I never even missed the man. But the dog, that’s another story.

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