Last night I went Out. That wasn't necessarily supposed to happen, but I'm pretty thrilled that it did. The adventure started out with an innocent trip to the Southside Goodwill to buy a new shirt for work and for a friend of mine to supplement her Halloween costume. By the time she got the skirt she came in for and I got a pair of boots, a pair of socks and a set of martini glasses (and not a shirt suitable for work), it was almost 5 o'clock which is when happy hour starts at The Library. A fancy shmancy "Murder on the Orient Express" cocktail (Pinnacle Vanilla, Starbucks Coffee Liquor and coffee), a delicious hoppy but also kinda sweet IPA, and Edgar Allen Sweet Potatoes (and regular Edgar Allen Potatoes) got the party started. Then we got manicures for absolutely no reason at all! Then an 85 cent taco (and a PBR which is extremely decent and not as bad as everyone thinks even though hipsters drink it) at Lava Lounge, then a Blue Moon at the Double Wide Grill while we sat outside and waited for the 59U home.
I woke up this morning and I had no idea where my Goodwill bags were (which I ended up shlepping all over Carson Street while we had this adventure) and I also was extremely surprised that my fingernails were bright red.
Pittsburgh is fantastic sometimes! I love being 21.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Get Money, Get Paid
I love my job(s).
Really!
Serving at banquets is SO. FUN. Oftentimes it sucks and is boring, but every job is a fantastic learning opportunity. You can observe all different kinds of rich people, and there are lots of different kinds- the attendees of the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust's 25th Anniversary Banquet and the attendees of a Cinderella-themed Bat Mitzvah at the Pittsburgh Golf Club and the attendees of the "Rally for Common Sense" anti-intelligencia bonanza at the Convention Center all provide fascinating and varied narratives and opportunities for observation.
I've said before that I don't think you can be a legit person unless/until you've had a shitty customer service job. I'm going to embellish that a bit: you can't be a legit theater artist until you've had a shitty customer service job- restaurants or banquets are best. You learn so much about people's objectives and observe so many mannerisms you can replicate. Costumes are great to look at at some of these things, and there are lots of opportunities to make friends with the fantastic people you work with. Oh! Also, free food (except at the Duquesne Club. NEVER TAKE A SHIFT AT THE DUQUESNE CLUB.)
Working at the Waffle Shop is great too. Lots of the people I interview ask me if I get paid to sit there and interview people and I'm like I know, right?
So everyone: after you go get your flu shot, get a job. Be a better person. Make mad bank. Pay your rent. Pay your library fines. By Diet Coke.
Stay Jank.
Really!
Serving at banquets is SO. FUN. Oftentimes it sucks and is boring, but every job is a fantastic learning opportunity. You can observe all different kinds of rich people, and there are lots of different kinds- the attendees of the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust's 25th Anniversary Banquet and the attendees of a Cinderella-themed Bat Mitzvah at the Pittsburgh Golf Club and the attendees of the "Rally for Common Sense" anti-intelligencia bonanza at the Convention Center all provide fascinating and varied narratives and opportunities for observation.
I've said before that I don't think you can be a legit person unless/until you've had a shitty customer service job. I'm going to embellish that a bit: you can't be a legit theater artist until you've had a shitty customer service job- restaurants or banquets are best. You learn so much about people's objectives and observe so many mannerisms you can replicate. Costumes are great to look at at some of these things, and there are lots of opportunities to make friends with the fantastic people you work with. Oh! Also, free food (except at the Duquesne Club. NEVER TAKE A SHIFT AT THE DUQUESNE CLUB.)
Working at the Waffle Shop is great too. Lots of the people I interview ask me if I get paid to sit there and interview people and I'm like I know, right?
So everyone: after you go get your flu shot, get a job. Be a better person. Make mad bank. Pay your rent. Pay your library fines. By Diet Coke.
Stay Jank.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Reflections on Swine Flu
I had/have swine flu!
I've been fever free for about 24 hours now so technically I'm not contagious anymore. I still sound like a dehydrated or crying combination of Dr Girlfriend and Joan Rivers when I speak, and my lungs feel like 10-gallon buckets of mucus, and I get out of breath very quickly with any physical exertion at all (walking, for instance) but I can breathe at about half capacity and I'm no longer delirious or sweaty and chilly. Progress!
Delirious. Yes, I sure was. Conversing, on the phone or online, was as difficult as walking up the 3 flights of stairs to my room from the kitchen. I could barely follow the 30 Rock episodes I watched on Hulu, even though I had seen the episodes a few times already. NPR podcasts, even Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, were waaaaay over my head. A 6-page critical review for "Postcolonialism and the Image" that was due on Tuesday had no chance in hell of getting thought about, much less written. A nighttime does of Tamiflu did not help the situation.
While I was high and loopy on Tamiflu and swine virus, I got into a huge, huge argument with a white man (who means a lot to me!) about white male privilege, and how white men are scary, and how they don't realize they have all this privilege that I don't have, and boo hoo for him if it makes him feel guilty because maybe I don't feel like catering to his precious white male sensitivities all the freakin time, and blah blah Andrea Dworkin blah blah blah.
It was just a tragic thing to have happened. I am, however, really glad to know that when high, the first thing I fight about is gender studies related.
Here is my white male litmus test, as it were. I show a man in my life this blog from Shakesville, and depending on his reaction to it I know how to operate around him. If you're a white male (or anyone else), you should read it.
And everyone should really REALLY get vaccinated against H1N1 TODAY.
GET VACCINATED! Your life will probably suck later if you don't.
I've been fever free for about 24 hours now so technically I'm not contagious anymore. I still sound like a dehydrated or crying combination of Dr Girlfriend and Joan Rivers when I speak, and my lungs feel like 10-gallon buckets of mucus, and I get out of breath very quickly with any physical exertion at all (walking, for instance) but I can breathe at about half capacity and I'm no longer delirious or sweaty and chilly. Progress!
Delirious. Yes, I sure was. Conversing, on the phone or online, was as difficult as walking up the 3 flights of stairs to my room from the kitchen. I could barely follow the 30 Rock episodes I watched on Hulu, even though I had seen the episodes a few times already. NPR podcasts, even Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, were waaaaay over my head. A 6-page critical review for "Postcolonialism and the Image" that was due on Tuesday had no chance in hell of getting thought about, much less written. A nighttime does of Tamiflu did not help the situation.
While I was high and loopy on Tamiflu and swine virus, I got into a huge, huge argument with a white man (who means a lot to me!) about white male privilege, and how white men are scary, and how they don't realize they have all this privilege that I don't have, and boo hoo for him if it makes him feel guilty because maybe I don't feel like catering to his precious white male sensitivities all the freakin time, and blah blah Andrea Dworkin blah blah blah.
It was just a tragic thing to have happened. I am, however, really glad to know that when high, the first thing I fight about is gender studies related.
Here is my white male litmus test, as it were. I show a man in my life this blog from Shakesville, and depending on his reaction to it I know how to operate around him. If you're a white male (or anyone else), you should read it.
And everyone should really REALLY get vaccinated against H1N1 TODAY.
GET VACCINATED! Your life will probably suck later if you don't.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
No Fat Chicks
Plus sized models have no place in the fashion industry, period.
Models have to be super tall and super skinny. That's it. High fashion is about an image and the image is all about the clothes. To put a plus size model on the runway is to distract from that. The only things that should move are limbs and fabric and hair, not breasts or stomachs or thighs or swaying hips. In magazines, the clothes and accessories need to look fantastic. The way to present stunning clothes and accessories is on a hanger and the hanger should have incredible skin and eyes that pop.
The criticism is that fashion magazines portray an "unrealistic" body to female readers who then try to emulate them and hate their own bodies and get eating disorders and die. What a patronizing worldview! If women see enough women who look better than they do, the women will go crazy with jealousy or something? Whatever. It's no secret that that shit is hella photoshopped. Women are smart enough to realize that magazine images are art pieces, and not representational of actual life. Can't we just appreciate the model's shiny skin and the way the couture garments drape over their delicate bone structure?
Professional models are important and it's important that they not be short and fat. I can recognize, as a short and fat girl (by fashion industry standards), that I am fierce as hell. I also recognize that I should never EVER be a model for anything other than a jank ass Sears catalog or a provincial hair show.
I guess this is the one place where I react very strongly against the third wave feminist movement. I don't think fashion or other media needs to represent "real" women's bodies. When I open a fashion magazine or watch TV or a movie, I expect to see beautiful people. If I wanted to see "real" or "average" people I'd look in the mirror. Please. It doesn't hurt my feelings to know that there are women who are taller and thinner and hotter and better dressed than me, and I don't need validation from the culture at large that my body is beautiful too.
Models have to be super tall and super skinny. That's it. High fashion is about an image and the image is all about the clothes. To put a plus size model on the runway is to distract from that. The only things that should move are limbs and fabric and hair, not breasts or stomachs or thighs or swaying hips. In magazines, the clothes and accessories need to look fantastic. The way to present stunning clothes and accessories is on a hanger and the hanger should have incredible skin and eyes that pop.
The criticism is that fashion magazines portray an "unrealistic" body to female readers who then try to emulate them and hate their own bodies and get eating disorders and die. What a patronizing worldview! If women see enough women who look better than they do, the women will go crazy with jealousy or something? Whatever. It's no secret that that shit is hella photoshopped. Women are smart enough to realize that magazine images are art pieces, and not representational of actual life. Can't we just appreciate the model's shiny skin and the way the couture garments drape over their delicate bone structure?
Professional models are important and it's important that they not be short and fat. I can recognize, as a short and fat girl (by fashion industry standards), that I am fierce as hell. I also recognize that I should never EVER be a model for anything other than a jank ass Sears catalog or a provincial hair show.
I guess this is the one place where I react very strongly against the third wave feminist movement. I don't think fashion or other media needs to represent "real" women's bodies. When I open a fashion magazine or watch TV or a movie, I expect to see beautiful people. If I wanted to see "real" or "average" people I'd look in the mirror. Please. It doesn't hurt my feelings to know that there are women who are taller and thinner and hotter and better dressed than me, and I don't need validation from the culture at large that my body is beautiful too.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Pittsburgh Adventures: The Milkshake Factory
Which two words, when put together, convey the most joy? Until I found out that the "Milkshake Factory" exists, "Bacon Night" was the undisputed champion.
The best part of the day, however, was not the divine, dreamy, rich and delicate pistachio milkshake, but the bus ride to the Southside. I sat in my favorite seat about halfway back, on the driver's side of the bus, in the first tallest seat. I sat in the window seat with my bag on the seat next to me, my legs crossed with my left ankle on my right knee, and my right arm over the back of the other seat. I sat very male. I took up more space than was fair, and enjoyed my elevated (powerful) position and the prime people watching location. It was the most comfortable I can remember being in a public place, and while it wasn't any more physically comfortable than the more female ways I often sit (legs crossed or pressed together, bag and hands on my lap), but it definitely felt right. Hm.
Anyway, The Milkshake Factory. Has about 50 different milkshakes on the menu for about 5$ each. None of the flavors are too wacky, but I was pretty thrilled to see Pistachio on the list. Pistachio is hella underrated of a flavor! It's creamy and light and rich and fresh and just the prettiest color. Anyway. The milkshake machine is really quiet, no abrasive crunchy blender sounds, just a calming hum. And the milkshake comes out satisfyingly thick but also light and airy, with a good distribution of pistachio chunks, though I was left with a few spoonfuls of too-big pistachio pieces at the bottom of the cup.
The shop itself was cool and elegant, dominated by a large counter of chocolates for sale behind a glass panel. The original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory was playing on mute on a wide-screen plasma above the chocolates and classic 90's rock was playing over the speakers. The decor was Victorianish, delicate swirly metal chairs, a pink, brown, and white color scheme, a certain quietness and quaintness in the space.
Overall, a fantastic bus ride and a fantastic milkshake. A great place to go to treat yourself.
The best part of the day, however, was not the divine, dreamy, rich and delicate pistachio milkshake, but the bus ride to the Southside. I sat in my favorite seat about halfway back, on the driver's side of the bus, in the first tallest seat. I sat in the window seat with my bag on the seat next to me, my legs crossed with my left ankle on my right knee, and my right arm over the back of the other seat. I sat very male. I took up more space than was fair, and enjoyed my elevated (powerful) position and the prime people watching location. It was the most comfortable I can remember being in a public place, and while it wasn't any more physically comfortable than the more female ways I often sit (legs crossed or pressed together, bag and hands on my lap), but it definitely felt right. Hm.
Anyway, The Milkshake Factory. Has about 50 different milkshakes on the menu for about 5$ each. None of the flavors are too wacky, but I was pretty thrilled to see Pistachio on the list. Pistachio is hella underrated of a flavor! It's creamy and light and rich and fresh and just the prettiest color. Anyway. The milkshake machine is really quiet, no abrasive crunchy blender sounds, just a calming hum. And the milkshake comes out satisfyingly thick but also light and airy, with a good distribution of pistachio chunks, though I was left with a few spoonfuls of too-big pistachio pieces at the bottom of the cup.
The shop itself was cool and elegant, dominated by a large counter of chocolates for sale behind a glass panel. The original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory was playing on mute on a wide-screen plasma above the chocolates and classic 90's rock was playing over the speakers. The decor was Victorianish, delicate swirly metal chairs, a pink, brown, and white color scheme, a certain quietness and quaintness in the space.
Overall, a fantastic bus ride and a fantastic milkshake. A great place to go to treat yourself.
Friday, September 25, 2009
SUJ20: VIP
The legit awesome fun high profile part of the day today was spent serving lunch for all the finance ministers at the G20. I had to go through a lot just to get there. First they gave me a new shirt and a new tie, with a legit dress shirt collar and a real tie-you-hafta-tie kinda tie. I prefer that look to the bowtie thing. Way classier! There's a reason we wore that look for important people and our bowties around the less important people. You hearing this, LGC? Then I got a red badge to go with my ID badge, and I needed to flash the red to get into the annals of the convention center. And go through some metal checks, too. I hate standing there crucifixion-style while some dude waves that metal thing over your body. It feels really invasive and violating to me. Is that just me?
Anyway, big important lunch meeting time. In the section I served were the reps from APEC (which Google tells me is the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation), Spain, South Africa, Saudi Arabia, Russia, and the Netherlands. Netherlands guy was the only vegetarian. The lady from Spain was really badass and funny and joked with us before the thing started about it being chilly in the room. She told my server teammate that she was doing a great job, which is so fantastic to hear! (Aside: people should tell their servers that they are doing great jobs.) The Russian guy was the only one with a translator. Argentina was a mega hottie, and our Secretary of the Treasury Tim Geithner is way more attractive in person than on TV. The executive branch of the US Government probably has an attractiveness screening protocol, just like the Carnegie Mellon School of Drama.
I noticed that a few of the finance ministers and others basically disregarded some of the cultural practices I thought were super important to them. The Saudis were treating women like people from what I could tell. The Saudi finance minister was the only one who gave me eye contact, for one thing, and he even smiled at me! The British drank the crappy Lipton we gave then when they asked for tea. Oh, and the Chinese finance minister tipped his banquet server! I don't know what that has to do with Chinese cultural practices, but it sure was nice and not really the correct thing to do.
We weren't allowed to touch any paper left behind, which is a bummer because the Netherlands guy left some really nice stationery. There was a weird awful panna cotta for dessert. The Indonesian finance minister gave her server a little sass when he spilled one drop of broth on the linen. There wasn't a nametag for me so I took one that said "Kenny" and I kept it.
Wow, everybody! G20 was super fun! See you next year!
Anyway, big important lunch meeting time. In the section I served were the reps from APEC (which Google tells me is the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation), Spain, South Africa, Saudi Arabia, Russia, and the Netherlands. Netherlands guy was the only vegetarian. The lady from Spain was really badass and funny and joked with us before the thing started about it being chilly in the room. She told my server teammate that she was doing a great job, which is so fantastic to hear! (Aside: people should tell their servers that they are doing great jobs.) The Russian guy was the only one with a translator. Argentina was a mega hottie, and our Secretary of the Treasury Tim Geithner is way more attractive in person than on TV. The executive branch of the US Government probably has an attractiveness screening protocol, just like the Carnegie Mellon School of Drama.
I noticed that a few of the finance ministers and others basically disregarded some of the cultural practices I thought were super important to them. The Saudis were treating women like people from what I could tell. The Saudi finance minister was the only one who gave me eye contact, for one thing, and he even smiled at me! The British drank the crappy Lipton we gave then when they asked for tea. Oh, and the Chinese finance minister tipped his banquet server! I don't know what that has to do with Chinese cultural practices, but it sure was nice and not really the correct thing to do.
We weren't allowed to touch any paper left behind, which is a bummer because the Netherlands guy left some really nice stationery. There was a weird awful panna cotta for dessert. The Indonesian finance minister gave her server a little sass when he spilled one drop of broth on the linen. There wasn't a nametag for me so I took one that said "Kenny" and I kept it.
Wow, everybody! G20 was super fun! See you next year!
SUJ20 Friday, Before I Got The Red Badge
Today I got to the convention center at 6am (two hours late but whatever). I helped set up a huge 4-line breakfast buffet for the delegates outside of where the important things happen. All I really did until around lunchtime was clear plates from the delegate's lounge, the huge nice "grand concourse" in the CC overlooking the Allegheny. Everyone was polite and lookin' mad sharp! There were a few delegates in silly cool costumey uniforms with big shoulders and tons of medals and shiny embellishments and like, braidey things on their sleeves. They were maybe French? Or Mexican?
I overheard some British delegates raving about 5 Guys Burgers and Fries and I wanted to say something that would maybe spark banter like "I used to live really close to the 5 Guys in Oakland! Did rioters break their windows?" or "I always go there with my two best friends from high school? And I always get a little bacon burger with tomatoes, grilled onions and A1. Do you have A1 in England?" or "They have malt vinegar there that you're supposed to put on fries and that's like, hella British, right?" or "That's totally my fave burger place!" Then they would hop back across the pond and tell their other British friends that everything they think about Americans is true and that 5 Guys is the best burger place and they know because a real (inarticulate, boring and possibly illiterate) American told them so. In the end I made the smart choice and just collected their empty coffee cups and smiled and didn't say anything.
Anyway, the concourse/loungey place was set up with lots of TVs showing all different news stations. There was also closed circuit TV showing what was going on in the main press briefing room. Oftentimes the live feed on our CCTV would match up with CNN and Bloomberg on other TVs. A few times the news networks would show interviews with people and I could tell exactly where in that room the interview took place. It was exciting to see Obama speak on TV and know that he was actually saying those things literally not even a hundred yards from where I was standing.
I got even closer eventually. Around 11 or so some managers came and got me and whisked me away from the buffet and told me I was serving for VIP.
Next post.
I overheard some British delegates raving about 5 Guys Burgers and Fries and I wanted to say something that would maybe spark banter like "I used to live really close to the 5 Guys in Oakland! Did rioters break their windows?" or "I always go there with my two best friends from high school? And I always get a little bacon burger with tomatoes, grilled onions and A1. Do you have A1 in England?" or "They have malt vinegar there that you're supposed to put on fries and that's like, hella British, right?" or "That's totally my fave burger place!" Then they would hop back across the pond and tell their other British friends that everything they think about Americans is true and that 5 Guys is the best burger place and they know because a real (inarticulate, boring and possibly illiterate) American told them so. In the end I made the smart choice and just collected their empty coffee cups and smiled and didn't say anything.
Anyway, the concourse/loungey place was set up with lots of TVs showing all different news stations. There was also closed circuit TV showing what was going on in the main press briefing room. Oftentimes the live feed on our CCTV would match up with CNN and Bloomberg on other TVs. A few times the news networks would show interviews with people and I could tell exactly where in that room the interview took place. It was exciting to see Obama speak on TV and know that he was actually saying those things literally not even a hundred yards from where I was standing.
I got even closer eventually. Around 11 or so some managers came and got me and whisked me away from the buffet and told me I was serving for VIP.
Next post.
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