Everything Old Is New Again.

This is a short post, since I need to make it into bed early. I'll put it this way: This time last year I was waking up monstrously early to be at work in room service at 6 AM. I have come full circle, setting my alarm to wake up tomorrow in time to give my boss the Chef a wake up call at 6 AM for his early morning flight. This is going to suck real bad. And my 30-day performance review / evaluation / what the fuck is going on with my employment status is going to be happening tomorrow. Big day tomorrow.

My Job Is An Exit To Eternal Summer Slacking.

Remember those dumb jobs of high school summers past? For me my quintessential high school job experience was being a day camp counselor. You worked a long day, sometimes enjoyable and sometimes excruciating, and if you brought it home with you, you carried it only long enough to complain about it to your parents before going to someone's house (party).

Sometimes, and I mean this in the best of ways, I feel that way about my job in the restaurant industry. In some broad way, I am potentially working towards a career of some sorts, but the reality of my life right now is that I have a job where people regularly show up hung over, under slept, totally disinterested, and/or on autopilot.

Yesterday I worked an early morning serving shift, arriving at work at 6:40, clocked out at 2:30. Headed to the bar for my shift drink and was joined by a coworker (remember that 2:30, though early, had been the end of a full 8 hour work day for me). Took myself to solo dinner at one of my favorite East Village spots where I have an unlikely rapport with this line cook whose name I don't even know. We somehow end up chatting every time I go there...to make our strange connection realer, he told me he will be trailing to work at the restaurant I'm at. Only in New York. Following, I joined some friends in Williamsburg for drinks and trivia night. I came close to pulling the elusive, rare breed of summer abandonment: the all-dayer. Sure I'll be a little tired at work today- but I'm working in hotel room service from 3pm - 11 pm. It's not like I'll really need to bring my A game. The only thing I'm definitely bringing is a book and a sensible dinner.

And while having a summer-style job is great over the summer, I know come September (and my one year anniversary at the restaurant) I'll miss sensing that with the crisp weather comes a return to trying hard.

Working As A Waitress In A Cocktail Bar Has Yet To Make Me Famous. I Clearly Need Philip Oakey.

So many fantasies at once, some more realistic than others, some more noble than others:

-Getting discovered on the job.
-Discovering some chick on the job.
-Having an acting career
-Facilitating acting careers
-Walking away from a 5-year relationship obviously built on inequality
-Being the Galatea to his Pygmalion
-Being the Higgins to her Doolittle.

For the record, I haven't been discovered on the job. Yet.

If You Have To Ask, You Don't Want To Know. True Story.

Saturday, 1:41 AM

I just got home from working at the restaurant where my co-workers and I are pretty sure there were 2 hookers circulating.

CocktailCoWorker: Look at the way they float together, man to man, never buying, never staying to chat past one drink
Underemployed: They look like the well-fed, un-beaten kind.
CocktailCoWorker: Classy almost.

I believe that women have the right to dress how they feel, and if how you feel includes shorts revealing a hint of cheek and spike heels who am I to say you're a hooker? Unless, of course, you are wandering around in a busy hotel lobby hunting for Johns.

You'll Scream For (No More) Ice Cream!

As we approach 90-degree humid heat today in New York City, I'm sure the city's ice cream scoopers will be sweating too. I have never scooped, but one of my college-educated co-workers at the restaurant scooped last summer and vowed never to do it again.

It go me thinking- it's air conditioned, customers want what you're selling, and you don't have to worry about tips as your major source of income, so there is a little less pressure on every interaction. What could be bad?

It hurts. My friend at the restaurant told me that by the end of the summer she was wearing one of those carpal tunnel wrist guards and dreading every order. Even now, she sometimes gets sore pouring waters for tables. I know how she feels- making espresso drink after espresso drink really aggravates my wrist sometimes from the repeated fist making and hammering motions. I feel like an old lady at 24.

One of my good friends from Ivy League just started a job scooping ice cream in Boston- I hope her wrists hold up. And if they don't, I hope she quits in time.

Brooklyn Is For (Music) Lovers.

I might not have made any money yesterday, but I didn't spend much either. One thing I love about Brooklyn is the scads of underemployed young people who are making some really good music and playing in totally affordable venues. I've never paid more than $10 to get into a show, and often all you have to do is buy one drink and submit your hand for ugly stamping.

Last night I went to Pete's Candy Store in Williamsburg to check out a new-ish duo called The Stone Lonesome, who's EP should be out in about a month. Really great country music for the skinny-jeans set, big-hearted sound coming from two small-ish young people. Total spent on the evening including drinking? $15.00 That's entertainment I can believe in.

Just for fun, below are some tracks from The Stone Lonesome's myspace page, as well as from Emily Long and Her Band, the indie rock mothership to The Stone Lonesome's renegade scouting mission.

Bridge To Nowhere - The Stone Lonesome

Somethin' Good - The Stone Lonesome

Genevieve - The Stone Lonesome

Ringing Bells - Emily Long and Her Band



Home- Emily Long and Her Band

Superstars Love Pin-ups Too! And They Clean Floors.

Beyoncé as pin up model! Beyoncé as housewife! Beyoncé drinking martinis! Beyoncé smoking cigarrettes!!

Beyoncé's recently released video for "Why Don't You Love Me," folks.