Fact. I live in Hollywood North. I’ve seen campus covered in swastikas, alleys transformed into Chinatowns, and schools coated in fake snow in April. I see film crews, actual filming, and filming site signs all the time. I know Uma Thurman was around my neighbourhood, and I maybe passed Liam Neeson when I was on the bus one day, and my friend most definitely served Nathan Fillion one time. But it all feels pretty removed–I don’t pay too much attention and I’m never around anything good.
Then the cast of Riverdale showed up again. (My god, what a show. So bad, so good.) My friends and I were sharing social media screenshots like, “Oh look, he was right on your street!” or “I think that’s my Chipotle!” I work downtown, on a main drag, and the gang has definitely been in the strip, so I’ve been on high alert.
Saturday morning, because that crew has been a frequent topic of conversation with my pals, MC spent some time looking at photos of the cast while I explained the first season. A mini convo between coffee and crosswords–nothing exciting. Then, we hopped the bus to this brunch place I love and walked right in to get on the list, knowing it’s an hour wait (lemon truffle potatoes with eggs benny, totally worth it).
And there they were,
just behind the woman taking my info:
Kevin, Jughead, Betty
The situation that surpassed my wildest dreams. They were shovelling eggs in their faces, I was sporting glasses and sexhair. I saw them for all of 45 seconds, a few feet in front of me, and it was exactly how I never knew I wanted a celeb sighting. What a day.
I want to binge House of Cards whenever suits me, damnit.
when you can just drive an out-of-town car across the border with two people holding passports from different countries? Thanks, Border Patrol, for forcing a not-exactly-ready girl to define my relationship at the 49th parallel.
To top it off, I’m pretty sure a semi-serious statement of “it’s official” was thrown about… in a Taco Bell parking lot.
It’s a thing I’ve always associated with pretty girls who have boyfriends that want to go away somewhere with them for a night/weekend. Or really particular girls in college who packed a bag to stay at their boo’s frat, instead of just walk-of-shaming it or going over there late at night like the rest of us. Or, I guess, girls who are in some kind of relationship where they actually stay overnight. Or just this one particular friend who always has an overnight bag in her car, just in case. Whichever definition, the point is that those people are not me.
Well, for the first time in 30 years, I had to pack an overnight bag and I was so fucking not exactly ready for it. I don’t even like to talk about this shit and I was emailing the gang back home like, fuck fuck fuck. It was an odd realization that there is not really anyone here, or there, that I can go to for dating advice. Instead, the emails were more of high-pitched-sorority-giggle fuelled communication than anything, but it was nostalgic fun.
Yeah, Uncomfortably Handsome Colleague got his shit together eventually. We actually refer to him as Man Candy now. MC in-text. It’s a goddamn delight.
So, I had to go back to the States this AM due to some pressing monetary concerns. Can we talk about how easy/awesome that was? A bit annoying at the border at 7:50 with only one open lane for the lame-os like me, but the rest was fucking fantastic. I forget how much I love open road driving.
The bank business was handled in 10 minutes flat, I got an hour in Target, handled some other pressing money issues with free Starbucks wifi, picked up a super fresh Jimmy Johns Slim 6 and was back on the road–with only a five-minute wait at the border. Easy, breezy. So glad I had to do this and can feel comfortable to do it again next time I need a ‘Merica fix.
Hit me with the seven digits. – No Authority
Going downtown is an eye candy daydream–it’s full of (quite attractive) fairly douchey bros and men in suits. Not the case in my area of the lower mainland, so I -extra- appreciate the long walk between bus stops when I’m in the swanky business area of the waterfront. And I’d just love the idea of a good, fantasy meetcute with some rich man in a suit, preferably with an accent, who asks for my number. Now of course that’s never happened.
But it sort of happened, today. Twice. Uncomfortably Handsome Colleague asked for my number to get a beer after work obligations (he didn’t follow through), and a random man ran across the street then doubled back to tell me I’m beautiful and ask for my number (after ascertaining whether or not I worked at the doughnut shop I was standing in front of).
What a strange night. I haven’t been approached by anyone since, IDK, a long fucking time.But now I can’t stop singing. I’ve been east, I’ve been west…
Four years ago today, in NOLA, I really started to put myself out there for my job. When no one else on staff was, I started embracing social media in the design world. It was the coolest thing. I showed up to events and people knew me, and I knew them. I knew some of the things growing under the industry’s surface before they broke. This tiny tub represents a turning point in my career (and the industry, in many ways). A few months later, I was in Spain, consuming sangria and learning a new level of professionalism and personality.
A lot of that was a mix of fortuitous timing and having been in the biz for quite a while. But honestly, I really worked for it, too. I was, and still am, so proud of the relationships I made doing my job. It couldn’t save the magazine, but it made, and continues to make, my life a hell of a lot more enjoyable.
Now, four years later, I’m attending my first library conference (arguably the trade show of my new profession), gratis, in exchange for doing social media for the event. This was partially the result of getting asked to join the library association’s editorial board. So at this conference, I’ll also be interviewing people for a story in our next publication.
Full circle? I don’t know, but it feels good.