The button box gets a makeover courtesy of Drexel grads. Jessica Lewinski's series of Polaroids portrays a deserted ghost town in the Garden State, where faded storefronts, decaying buildings and empty streets have a beauty all their own. On Karen Maziarz's extreme close-up portraits, you can see every wrinkle, freckle and hair of her subjects. And Morgen Rossmair's pictures throw a curveball: In one image, a hefty, harsh-looking man holds his shotgun, while deer heads and stuffed raccoons look on. In another, a young woman dons a "Fuck Bush" shirt while gripping her rifle.

The discussion of whether or not Shakespeare was gay probably has the bard rolling in his bejeweled, rainbow casket. While his love sonnets hint at the possibility of involvement with a young man, this play, based on a short story by Oscar Wilde, begs the question: Was he or wasn't he? The show lives up to its name with one of its characters dropping his pants before curtain call. This Philly debut is part of the Philadelphia Gay and Lesbian Theatre Festival.

The swanky Real World house has been taken over by an even swankier gallery, and its debut exhibition of seven local artists is far more interesting than perpetually drunken 20-year-olds. Dustin Kemper's solemn mixed-media works of power lines, drab buildings and moody skies make for severe, industrial artwork. And Austin Lee's latex-layered Bunny is both adorable and heartrending.