Home Girl got HOOKED UP this wknd~! I was invited to partake in Matrix's educational session here in Winnipeg open to working hair stylists and students to attend at The Delta. I fulfilled my lifelong, foolish dream of working as a model. My 5'2" stature did nothing to prevent this delicious opportunity. That reminds me, u get ur hair did 4 free, but what's even better as a hair model: you still get to eat.
Below: My free shiz! (Laptops not included. :P)
ME: Don't it look like RiRi?! PS, so far this is just pinned up at the back, I actually have a little bob cut so it's longer on both sides in the front. May take the plunge 2nite tho with some clippers! Diggin' this
Mah main gurl's at it again: bringin' summer singalongy girl-pop back into my life just in time for the rays. Pls come on my next road trip, California Gurls. I will have to wait impatiently for that first Cali Gurls roadtrip, though, as the cd's scheduled to drop sometime in "summer," which could mean anytime from now until December I'm guessin' based on the LA gurl's season.
In the meantime, take a listen to the fine, fresh, fierce first single with an assist from none other than THE SNOOP D-O DOUBLE-GIZZLEEEE!! WEST SIDE WHAAA!!! http://katyperry.com/
It was only a matter of time before my Bf caved and took me to the movie I demanded he see with me since I missed seeing it with a clan of girls due to plans with him.. But boy, did I make him pay. It was 100% girl power, 100% girlicious, 100% lesbian-chic & lesbian-grittty. And I loved it.
The movie starts off with a drop of blood on the cement — I, being the obnoxious movie watcher I am, cooed to said Bf, "It's nail polish! I just know it!," as I geared up for the movie to feature '70s glitz and glamour as a sixth main character — but it was blood. Period blood, to be exact. And so begins the luscious and lush girly coming-of-age tale about the girls from the first successful all-girl rock band, The Runaways, and particularly Cherie Currie, the lead singer and ridiculously prime sexy frontwoman (she was 15 when the band set out on the road).
Dakota Fanning and Kristen Stewart are white-hot in the film; in the same way for their stellar acting and bangin' voices, but in completely different ways as their characters. Dakota Fanning as lead singer Cherie easily commands a sexiness and intrigue in her waifish young body, which is a good reminder of how ripe she is to life and to such a sensual industry (we're excused for the inappropriateness of our thoughts as we get to vacation to the mindset of the '70s), and Kristen as Joan Jett is the sexy tough chick who seduces everything and everyone with her aggressive, forward attitude toward sex and her command of her sexuality. At one point I find vital, Jett is seen pissing on a man's guitar; he was in the band they were opening for and was being degrading to the girls. It's this show-no-mercy, "stand up for yourself" plus literally "stand up to pee" attitude that I think sums up Jett for a new generation who doesn't know her so well.
The whole movie is about experimentation on the road (Cherie is introduced to sex with a man quickly as she bags the band's roadie on the first tour, plus eventually she starts fooling around with Joan like most of the girls seem to), but what is experimentation on the road for Cherie, who runs herself ragged trying to keep up and even OD's, is life to Joan. And that is what separates Cherie and what makes her end up having to choose between living life on the road or a life of her own. (Since we all know or can easily search the band's history online, I think it's fair to say I'm not ruining the movie by saying she leaves them.)
It could've been the end for an ex-"concept band" guitarist like Joan, but luckily, the breakup with the band forces Joan to get out on her own with experience behind her, and an even greater familiarity with the sound she wants to put out, and she comes out with her greatest musical legacies when she links up with the Blackhearts (AKA "Bad Reputation," "I Love Rock & Roll," and "Crimson and Clover").
Rolling Stone said the movie had the ability to be truly provocative, but "pussied out" so to speak. If you ask me, the movie was quite liberated and seemed to ring true of the hedonism and sassiness one would expect from the baddest, most scandalous, trail-blazing chicks of rock & roll. If I can compare life on the road briefly to life in the locker room (growing up playing hockey and soccer I played with women sometimes 5 years my senior), you do grow up quickly and learn a lot about sex young. (Surprisingly, there was much less lesbian action in our rooms... maybe it was the lack of drugs.)
Either way, the movie was raunchy enough to truly remind me of those significant moments when you discover your womanhood and sexuality, sometimes with the help of others (chatting about first times, periods, and exactly how to give a hand-job), but also raunchy enough to be a little unreachable, as a rock & roll flick should be. Like when Joan directs one of her bandmates on how to masturbate using her hands and then the shower head while she hangs out just outside the shower curtain.
It's not exactly my childhood — but it was Cherie's and Joan's. And a few more runaway girls' who grew up on the road raising each other, looking out for each other, and loving each other (in all ways).
Throw in some cocaine and LSD, some superior girl power (the girls were told they shouldn't even play electric guitars) and some serious talent into the mix and maybe some of my childhood friends and I could've made this our lives. Danggg. And now I'm way too old to be like those rock & roll queens.
I wasted 3 hours trying to download video on my Mac and getting the run-around trying to download Adobe Flash Player 10 before getting to watch Part 2 of this Miracle-ous movie. And it was MORE than worth it.
There's no doubt that Keep Your Head Up, Kid: The Don Cherry Story is one of the nation's most identifiable, epitomizing films to come around since... That Pierre Elliot Trudeau movie? Seriously, it's no secret we have a bit of a shortage of cultural icons here in the True North, but Don Cherry is about as iconic as they come. Do a quick sondage and I'm sure you'll find he's one of the first famous Canadians to come to mind.
Anyways, the best part of this movie isn't even just the idea (which was ingenious on its own and was the brainchild of Don's biological child, Tim Cherry, who wrote the story – props!) but the production value of this little national treasure. The filming and acting was top-notch, and maybe it's the extra romance that the film was shot in Winnipeg and Brandon (at the Keystone Centre), but I couldn't help but feel extremely attached to the movie and proud of it.
(OK, I did spot a good half-dozen guys I know that play Bisons and keep hearing about more and more people who were part of the cast, so that was fun to point out! But I kept not being able to believe it in a way because I know their acting experience is, well, void, and the movie's so rockin'! Well done y'all!)
So anyways, maybe my attachment to the extras is relevant, maybe it isn't, but I swear to you that movie has all the makings of a successful Hollywood jock movie — a sincere, not-oversweetened romantic plot, lots of true-to-life hardships dealt to the main character, and lots of funny moments that help represent a guy we already know but haven't really cracked (OK, my love affair with bio-pics is starting to show...)
You get to get to the bottom of Don along with the screenplay, though again, it leaves you wondering which representation of ol' Grapes is more accurate: the sweet, considerate father and husband, the determined hockey-obsessed devotee, or the balls-to-the-walls crazy hothead we saw on TV every week during our upbringing. (Is it really ALL an act? They hinted at signs of his temper throughout the movie but he did really just seem like a mild, genuine guy...)
Maybe hockey makes us all crazy. Either way, the moments where we learn why Cherry was nicknamed "Madagascar" by his old coach (He said he would've sent him away there if he could... Instead, he traded him to Three Rivers, Quebec) and other intricacies in Cherry's career and life shouldn't be skipped. This movie is comparable to a Hollywood-scripted romance about a man and his loves; hockey and a woman named Rose, but with all the Canadian no-bullshit you need to buy in. And that's what we can continue to be known for thanks to this CBC special: no frills or opening-day, "coming to a theatre near you" gimmicks, just a film about a "good Canadian kid" (in Don Cherry speak) making his way in the world who moved 53 times for hockey, only to play 1 game in the Show for the Boston Bruins early in his career, coach them, then end up a national broadcast legend for his colour commentary on the CBC (along the way running his tongue and getting into trouble for bigotry). Ahh, Canada's Sweetheart.
Doesn't hurt that the young Don (as played by Jared Keeso) was a total babe either! (That is NOT a gimmick, most of my buddies who were extras are real hockey players and total top models too! Can't fight the truth....)
Ok, if there are those of you who missed the fact that I was following the Olympic broadcast like a paparazzi follows Lindsay, well, I forgive you – ‘cause y’all know the Oscars be my real Olympics!
Although I had a sporting event to attend midway through the ceremonies (I had to duck out to win a city championship – and right before SJP took the stage, I’m so committed!), I did manage to catch the tail end today and get up-to-current with my fave awards show.
They were, as usual, a tad slow-moving and lengthy, but they also had all the makings of a successful night – lots of spotlight shining on my girl Meryl, the ethereal beauty Helen Mirren, and newcomer sensations like Carey Mulligan, Gabourey Sidibe and Anna Kendrick. There were also some serious surprises in the major categories making them worth catching live. (Thank god a woman finally took the Best Director prize! Yeesh.)
And though there are a kazillion places to find top Oscar moments, speeches, best dressed lists, and the year’s best acting performances, I’ll cut the shit for you and just talk about the gals who killed it on all counts, ensuring that I’ll catch their movie. You’re welcome.
(In descending order…)
5. Meryl. Everything she does is magic. Little girls will hopefully worship her one day and plaster her on their walls everywhere. (I’m going to…) It’s Complicated has already been illegally downloaded! (I've seen Julia.)
4. Carey – Cutest pixie haircut on the show fasho! What a great cut/dye, heard she did it right after she heard about her nomination! (Ooh, already hiding from the paps, Care? Loves it!) She seems so real & earnest. An Education is an urgent must-see pour moi!
3. Maggie Gyllenhaal – I know, what did she really do at the awards, besides earn a nod and smile infectiously toward Jeff Bridges during his speech, but I’m just glad to see her craft gain the recognition it deserves – plus, she held her own drinking with T Bone Burnett and Bridges during the filming of Crazy Heart according to RS. Now that’s bad-ass. And the dark makeup accentuating her baby blues on awards night? HOT.
2. A Single Man will be seen by me, and this has not been swayed or shaken by Julianne Moore’s noticeable absence from the Best Actress category. I bet you she and Colin both nailed it and she made me so impressed by the fact they only spent a few hours filming together (she mentioned this when presenting his nomination) – their chemistry is blatant in the 2-minute trailer! Plus, designer/director Tom Ford makes me tremble with admiration. (PS this pic is feROSH!)
1. Duh, leave the top spot for mah new girl Biggie!! Kathryn Bigelow not only made history at the Oscars for being the first lady to win top directing honours, but she beat out her insanely gifted ex-husband James Cameron and the highest-grossing movie of all time in the Best Picture AND Director categories. Clearly, this wasn’t just a PR move. That movie’s gonna be life-changing.
PS: I’ve already seen Up In the Air (if you’ve been following, ya know!), Precious, and Avatar (2x) so they were left out of this… I categorize all three as duh-see’s.
The Blind Side for me wasn’t unbelievably worthy of the Best Picture nom, but you may as well catch it for Sandy’s role. And she mercilessly killed the red carpet! I think her hair & makeup team may have won the award for her; just shows what dressing the part can do!
(Plus, OK, it was an inspiring movie for us jocks. & Invictus!! <-- to blame for my return to rugby)
Is it Monday or Tuesday? I dunno, it's Day 11 for sure.
It’s Day 11 of my two-week accelerated job in broadcasting, and I feel a little detached from the outer world – outer world meaning anywhere where “jib” “did we take a ‘hit?’” and “rendering” isn’t part of the everyday lexicon. And anywhere where people’s names aren’t colour-coded like “Red/Blue” and “Gold/Silver.” Those are my roommates in a little, cramped shared office we’ve nicknamed “The Sauna.” (We even got a fan brought in from Selkirk so we wouldn’t melt …apparently fans don’t exist in Winnipeg in the winter, FYI.)
I’ve gotten a lot out of being part of the Olympic broadcasting team for APTN. I’ve learned a little bit about Aboriginal culture (I “smudged” for my first time, meaning washing sacred smoke over your face, hair and shoulders – which I loved. The spiritual focus in the workplace is such a breath of fresh air, and the Aboriginal people hold values no one can really argue with, so the blessing ceremonies feel really genuine and unifying. (It’s like if everyone paused to do yoga at your work and got you collectively focused on the company missions or goals of the day or what-have-you – how great would that be?! I guess that’s what it’s like working at Lululemon…) I’ve also gained a bit of a better understanding about the plights of Aboriginal peoples. One of the best things said that put it into perspective was when the executive producer, Doug Howe, spoke to the group about how we are an underdog as a first-time Olympic broadcaster, having only 10 years experience in the biz – and on top of that being Aboriginal. He added for the Aboriginal people working on the broadcast that isn’t a new feeling but for others, like me, maybe we’d get to see what it’s like for First Nations people on a regular basis always feeling like you’re starting from behind and having to prove yourself. I thought that was really eloquent and was a really good insight to share. I totally had an “Ah-ha!” Oprah moment.
Aside from the cultural schooling, I’ve also gotten a bit better at this job I was hired to do and had very little experience doing prior. I basically got hired because I claimed I could spell, had a bit of broadcast training, and the Assistant Producer said I was competent (she likes me… We’re friends. I paid her…) Anyways, I’ve gotten pretty friendly with the ol’ Inscriber (basically filling in words on templates with correct spelling, but I’ve also had to tweak the odd template and have gotten semi-handy with that. Although who knew you could do animations…?! !!!)
It’s also been really cool to see what it’s like to work as a freelancer or in sports full-time – a lot of these gems I’ve worked closely with do lots of odd gigs where they leave their families for weeks or months at a time, and come back with a wad of cash and some spare time ‘til the next gig! That’s the point – it’s condensed, it’s sometimes chaotic and consuming, but you get through it and then there’s a big cash reward! There’s a lot of long days, some attitude clashes with new superiors (for others, I’m happy-go-lucky, duh) and a lot of anxiety working in live tv – but it’s what they all live for! I can tell my EVS men’s favourite parts of the day were when they batched a string of highlights together in a couple minutes time while the on-air talent dangles there, filling in the time. That’s the drug for televisers! That rush of “Will we survive this?” (Wonder if I could live off it as well?) …It’s like firefighting, but NOT.
I’ve learned so much about live tv, especially sportscasts which are really an art and genius of their own! You really can’t appreciate it ‘til you get the behind-the-scenes view! Everyone’s a buff – and you have to be to get things right! So inspiring to see people rock their jobs everyday.
And finally, the food you get on these Olympic budgets is unreal! (Maybe it’s not typical, maybe it is.) I’ve been scamming food every half-hour from junk food like chips, gummy bears, and chocolate bars to fresh fruit, veggies and dip, toast, taco dip and sometimes pancakes, perogies or pizza! Catered meals too – unreal! I don’t know why anyone needed a food budget – I sure didn’t need my own!
I’ve also sort of gotten over the broken dream to have been in Vancouver along for the Olympic ride ‘cause this was totally an adventure of its own! Thirteen-hour days are the norm and no one complains because it’s their “usual.” So nuts! Whatever it takes to make TV MAGIC!
Well, that’s all for now. I wish I would’ve broken the experiences down to a few days at a time or God forbid by the Olympic Days, but alas, I’m too wiped at the end of most days to bear down and write! Stay tuned for at least a final summary when I’ve gotten a day or two to veg.
Xoxo, Bco
Also, interesting side note: I bought a new camera today (Mar.3) with ma’ earnings and the man was Aboriginal and said how awesome he thought the coverage was on APTN! We also heard that from a dude at BP’s at our wrap party! Great feedback was the norm!
…And now, for a Legend:
(Vanessa always includes these… maybe I’ll start (or at least mock her in this first one)):
“Jib” – a jib is a camera that isn’t held close to the operator but is extended out a long way on a contraption that can move the camera quickly and steadily. It can take shots from up-above the hosts and set and make pretty clean, controlled-looking movements quickly because it isn’t as susceptible to human error.
“hit” – taking a ‘hit’ here at APTN means the live feed kicks out or something screwy happens to the video/program on air. Everyone seemed to understand it so it must be common.
“rendering” – making all video, still images and what-not play nicely in a video. If you have “unrendered” clips they won’t show up.
Colour names: these are used instead of names for people who control media playback (packaged video) and EVS. What’s EVS? I’m not explaining that. You’re not ready. (Nor am I, really.)
Televisers: What I’ve just nicknamed those who work in television.
I have finally reached my first step in admitting the problem. I am completely guilty of sponging up every stupid, vacuous, disparaging or flattering thing written up about frickin' celebs.
If there is a real fame monster, I've been attacked and conquered (feels like molested?).
I can't help it. I know I can find better music/role models/persons to look up to out there — and I do have the odd case of genuine admiration for non-pop culture icons, believe me — but I can't help at least noticing what's always put right out in front of me. I mean, don't you all visit Perez occasionally (obsessively...) when bored? Watch Star? E? Anything?
It's like my default option as any renovation show is to my dad. Or sports are to most men. Am I alone here, girls?
Well, I've suddenly realized that my apparent "hobby" is actually somewhat of a problem. It's something unproductive that steals a lot of my time (unless I'm the future Perez? :)) like, say when unemployed. I have posts on this blog I'm fairly ashamed of because I spent 99% of my time trying to be "creatively inspired" when I should have just seen what I can come with with my own individual imprint, or base stories on say, my own life experiences. (Gasp!)
Of course, everyone needs to draw from influences, but I wish what struck me most had a little more backbone sometimes.
Luckily (I guess, in some ways), I'm not alone, but I'll give you a rundown of some of the most embarrassing, shameful, never-before-revealed (I'm actually nauseating myself just by sharing these with my screen, I swear), regretful episodes I've had in the past few months due to my famemonia (like pneumonia, but more glam):
-Had a random dream where I won Christina Aguilera as my friend (she has been so under the radar of late but I guess I watched something to do with the movie Burlesque right before bed?) Either way, WRRRETCH.
-Downloaded a bunch of music having only heard the band names in Rolling Stone mentioned several times. (Gross. Where's my own personal taste!?)
And... Finally... An act so disgusting I am slandering myself by revealing....
-I compulsively read every single Katy Perry tweet having discovered my newfound fame crush.
Geeeeeroooosssss. Please still talk to me, if you're reading this, friends. Addicts cannot necessarily be held responsible for their every action, they have a DISEASE. In this case, luckily since I'm caught up, I can only log so much more time searching the site for new tweets. (I'm only interested in her, I swear. And I looked at a few of her friends. FML.)
I am so lame I can't even tolerate me. But, if you're still reading... (and to make this a little more timely and not just self-deprecating.. I'm taking you all down with me!) aren't we all talking about or thinking about seeing a movie, a certain self-titled holiday movie that we don't really even know any real details about? Let's face it, we might see Valentine's Day that weekend, and the only thing making it "look cute" is the FAMEGASM that is the cast (I used the term, Brade!).
There's nothing remarkable/unconventional/special about the movie trailer, but of course we'll haul ass to the theatre just to see 20 tabloid-worthy celebs get it on with each other and help pay their salaries.
And the worst part is, some of those celebs probably didn't even want the fame that comes with acting. But we'd all appreciate it. Isn't that really the point, sometimes? With Facebook statuses and Twitter (and blogging? :s), don't we all just want people to think we're funny and charming, making us well-liked and then maybe admired? Or some people just to care about our everyday-? That's why I won't give Katy Perry the satisfaction. I'll just keep visiting but now "following." POW.
x
PS: Watch for me on Canadian Idol next season if there ever is another. (I'm still a fame-whore myself.)
Can you name the last movie you saw that made you re-evaluate your life's values and your views on the unholy sanctimony of marriage to the point of inspiring true flutters of romantic desire? Now I can.
On top of doing that to me (I literally hear George Clooney's voice now as I type, creepy... he now narrates my life part-time), the movie Up in the Air tackles the dichotomy of the salary-driven individual and the dreamer so poignantly it may as well be you in the hot seat receiving a "packet."
As George, in his best-fitted role yet of professional "termination technician" Ryan Brigham (a role literally tailor-made for him by writer/director Jason Reitman), says, "I'm your wake-up call."
This movie, an astute, properly sentimental triumph of Reitman's, is a wake-up call for anyone wanting (or needing) to take another look at their lives and what they value. And even if you're already set, I suspect you won't find the movie fluffy or purposelessly sappy.
A most moving moment is, like many parts of this movie (or any good movie), a result of simply edited, simply beautiful shots of characters with soul. And, of course, the perfect song. Sad Brad Smith's Help Yourself plays as we see George enjoy the company of his plus-one (and potential love interest) at his sister's wedding. (The haunting, astoundingly charismatic Alex played by Vera Farmiga is unimaginably George's perfect match.) The song lyrics perfectly supplement the footage — plus, the music provides the slightly melancholy notes the imagery needs to bring you to your own realization of the importance of these moments — things you don't want to skip out on.
Equally important, though, is the career lesson. Of course, the current climate of the workforce in North America is uncharacteristically brash, so the timing of this movie couldn't be better. Up in the Air has two legs firmly planted in the present, and summarizes the times by demonstrating the desperation that comes with unemployment, especially for those who've practically spent their entire lives labouring for their respective companies; but it also reminds us, those who are young enough, to make a change if we'd feel empty after a lifetime of working. It's an eerily on-point summary of a generation who got married young, procreated young, and worked to accumulate wealth to mobilize their families.
At what point does a salary take hold of your dreams? Will our generation be any different? And was the last generation even wrong, especially for those so lucky to remain happily married, to have a witness to their lives and to have conceived offspring to love and be witness to? These are the kinds of questions George is still asking me.
I'm recently off of a great night out with about 14 crazy bitches. Seriously. Never before have I so inconspicuously flanked a group of queen-bee party girls; I wouldn't have even made the outtakes for Girls Gone Wild had someone been filming the lot of us — and I'm not someone particularly used to losing the screentime.
If you've been following my career (which all 3 of my friends who read this have), you know I was recently keeping a sex column in college — which I thought was often brash and cutting. Well, let me tell you, after dining at Hu's on Ellice with a couple of ladies with true tales about zucchini mishaps and "Pussy Wizards," I had to draw just one logical conclusion: I'm a Mormon compared to these gals.
However, it appears I'm not alone. You might think I'd launch into a topical analysis of the show Big Love now; a show that spins a relatively sensitive portrayal of a functioning polygamist family which got Chloe Sevigny a Best Supporting Actress Golden Globe yesterday, or jokingly compare my life to Mormon men and women who save themselves for marriage (albeit plural). Nope, I'm going to talk about that other show about Mormon fundamentalism: The Bachelor.
Before you start defending your "guilty pleasure," don't assume I'm trashing the show. 'Cause I'm not. I simply want to point out the injustice that was done to poor little Rozlyn in The Bachelor Season 14's alleged sex scandal. If you're in the dark about this, apparently Rozlyn, a contender in the show, had a sexual encounter or affair with a staff member of The Bachelor, and was outed by the other cast members competing for one man's heart (surprise, surprise).
For many people, the logical conclusion to that issue played out: Roz was kicked off the show for her transgressions. ....But wait a minute, critical thinkers: Isn't Mr. Bachelor playing every single one of these girls? Isn't polygamy kind of the purpose of the show? If you ask me, they're all in open relationships, considering the girls accept that he's dating every one of them at once. Why should he get to demand exclusivity? — unless we believe like Mormon fundamentalists believe, that only men can collect wives/girlfriends. Women share.
Ok, I'm not here to hate on The Diva for getting a little tipsy. Lord knows, there will be tomorrow, and I don't want to be judged a hypocrite (did anyone catch my reference to Mariah's lyrics in that last line? It was a bit feeble).
Especially since her drunk-ass speech has been talked about e'erwhere, and it took place at the Palm Springs International Film Festival (having never heard of this, I assume it is at least a C-list event and Mimi may have even put it on the map with her inebriation).
Of course, being a Precious movie fanatic makes things a little more charcoal. I mean, the girl gives this decent, subtle performance as a jaded New York City social worker, even abandoning her looks (a faux lady 'stache helped camouflage The Diva's good looks in the movie). And some film board, likely wanting any excuse not to vote for the famous R&B icon, gives her an award.
But even so, Mariah couldn't ditch her Divatinis for a night. Granted, the PSIFF sounds like something you would have a couple drinks at, but you may as well not attend if you think it's so laughable you don't care if you're coherent enough to give a proper speech. (And even by lower standards than properness, Mimi barely mentioned the movie and couldn't even feign an emotional response to receiving the award.) Mimi then had the audacity to blame her buzz on the director, Lee Daniels, because they hadn't been together since filming and must've done a little sipping together that night.
Moral of the story: Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Mimi. After Glittergate, you were lucky to be cast in anything. Ever again. Especially to have a director cast you in a challenging role in an important and relevant movie, risking some of its success on you and your cursed past.
(Apparently though, she and Daniels were friends and he was impressed by her work in a flop they filmed together called Tennessee.) Having previously cast Helen Mirren for the role (who had to bail), Daniels received a call from Mimi at the right time wanting to split a bottle (presumably). And so the beautiful fairy tale goes about a drunk diva who knows how to twist her fate through alcohol. Can she evade an Oscar because of shitty speech-giving abilities?
... Remember when I learned all about steaming milk (the act, not the noun) while working as a barista at your restaurant and bakery?
And remember when I had to stare at my creative writing teacher’s picture on the wall all day because it was so near my view as a once-hostess?
Remember when my brother took a call from you and thought I was working at a tattoo parlour because of the name Prairie Ink (which I thought was cool, but decided I didn't want the pressure of reminding people to disinfect their piercings and whatnot)?
Remember when I got to listen to nice, lightly-amplified music while serving cute hippies?
Remember when I was working there and at The Sun and my coworkers would make a point to read my silly little stories?
Remember how cute I thought the story behind Holly McNally keeping her former flame's name in the brand was, until Wikipedia just told me it was because she couldn't afford to replace the signage at first? (It's still cute.)
Remember the tree erected in the restaurant?
Remember the staff book/meal discounts?
I do.
I remember it all well, and I will never forget one of my longest runs at any job (8 months — shut up, I’m commitment-phobe) and the place that helped earn me enough buck to move out into my first apartment.
What swell digs this place was, and what a great staff/atmosphere to boot.
May the best of this place trickle into Grant Park, and make it all the more swell.
