Sunday, July 24, 2005
Take my job away
I just had brunch at Kate's with Jake and some of his weird quasi-famous friends. I walked in and looked at the people he was with and whispered, totally kidding, "since when do you hang out with the guys from Good Charlotte?" Every last one of them had 2002 hipster mullets and eyeliner smudged all over their faces. Jake was like, "yeah, actually, one of them is the brother of the guys in Good Charlotte." I ended up sitting next to that very guy. The first thing he did after we sat down was to inform me that he grew up "poor and fat."
Everyone started talking about tattoos, and he asked me why I don't have any. I said, "I don't know, I wouldn't want to have to talk about their significance all the time," and he goes, "Yeah, I mean, when people ask me about my tattoos and I tell them what they mean, they're all, 'wow, that's deep, you're a deep guy,' and I'm always like, 'yeah, I guess I am kinda deep, but whatever.'"
This was a guy who is totally sweet, granted, but who runs his own successful clothing line ("made"?? never heard of it) and has many people working beneath him. He's the CEO of a major company (compliments of his family) and I serve pints of Michelob Ultra for a living. After thirty seconds of conversation with the dude, I cursed my sister for not being his brothers' female counterpart (Avril Lavigne?) who could hook me up with a similar spot. Employment in creative industries is not democratic. They're not meritocracies. It's all about nepotism, and it sucks balls. Until the day my dad becomes Sugar Ray or my aunt magically morphs into Star Jones, I will never make a living doing anything in the arts. Awesome.
On a brighter note, last night the guys from the band Berlin came in, and it was excellent. They were all done up in mid-eighties show gear, sans irony, with chipped nail polish and Twisted Sister hair, and I said to them, "Let me guess, guys. You just played a show." They looked at me with weary eyes and one of them said, "Yeah. On LONG ISLAND. And no one showed up." Then another one says, "I bet you don't know who we are." I was all, "You're right, I have no idea who you are," and he said, "Ever heard of the band Berlin?" It did sound vaguely familiar but I couldn't remember why or think of any of their songs, and I told them that. They all exchanged nauseated glances and the first one mutters, "Ever heard that song, "Take My Breath Away?'" I was like, "OH MY GOD! Yeah! I LOVE that song! What did you think of the Jessica Simpson cover?!" I've never gotten so many death glares at one time. But then I gave them a free round of beer and they started being nice. I tried to get them to perform in the bar, but they wanted to do new stuff and I kept insisting, "No! Do "Take My Breath Away!" They ended up not doing anything and instead going to eat pizza. The story of my life.
Everyone started talking about tattoos, and he asked me why I don't have any. I said, "I don't know, I wouldn't want to have to talk about their significance all the time," and he goes, "Yeah, I mean, when people ask me about my tattoos and I tell them what they mean, they're all, 'wow, that's deep, you're a deep guy,' and I'm always like, 'yeah, I guess I am kinda deep, but whatever.'"
This was a guy who is totally sweet, granted, but who runs his own successful clothing line ("made"?? never heard of it) and has many people working beneath him. He's the CEO of a major company (compliments of his family) and I serve pints of Michelob Ultra for a living. After thirty seconds of conversation with the dude, I cursed my sister for not being his brothers' female counterpart (Avril Lavigne?) who could hook me up with a similar spot. Employment in creative industries is not democratic. They're not meritocracies. It's all about nepotism, and it sucks balls. Until the day my dad becomes Sugar Ray or my aunt magically morphs into Star Jones, I will never make a living doing anything in the arts. Awesome.
On a brighter note, last night the guys from the band Berlin came in, and it was excellent. They were all done up in mid-eighties show gear, sans irony, with chipped nail polish and Twisted Sister hair, and I said to them, "Let me guess, guys. You just played a show." They looked at me with weary eyes and one of them said, "Yeah. On LONG ISLAND. And no one showed up." Then another one says, "I bet you don't know who we are." I was all, "You're right, I have no idea who you are," and he said, "Ever heard of the band Berlin?" It did sound vaguely familiar but I couldn't remember why or think of any of their songs, and I told them that. They all exchanged nauseated glances and the first one mutters, "Ever heard that song, "Take My Breath Away?'" I was like, "OH MY GOD! Yeah! I LOVE that song! What did you think of the Jessica Simpson cover?!" I've never gotten so many death glares at one time. But then I gave them a free round of beer and they started being nice. I tried to get them to perform in the bar, but they wanted to do new stuff and I kept insisting, "No! Do "Take My Breath Away!" They ended up not doing anything and instead going to eat pizza. The story of my life.
# posted by Katie @ 1:44 PM 
