Open Chat No. 3: The Squirrel. 5 minutes. A glimpse at the man (peeking, barely) out from behind those bright eyes and bushy, um, tail. And yes, that's a lovely black statue of a squirrel, recently purchased for the man himself by, as he calls her on the blog, the "Wife-asaurus." Full transcript follows.
Also, I asked The Squirrel for a list of his favorite posts on his blog. They are:
What can you tell us about the restaurant? What can you reveal?
It's on the north side.
Yes, of Chicago. It is officially within the city limits of Chicago. It is not as not as bad as I make it out to be. That's another big thing right there. We actually have far more satisfied customers than I make it out to be. It's just that that's not very interesting.
Why did you choose the squirrel?
It was the only picture that I had, actually, except for the old man in the upper left of the banner --
And just to be clear, that's not you either.
No, that's not me either. That's a drunk from "EastEnders," which is a BBC soap opera. He's kind of the comic-relief town drunk. And he's a funny guy. So I had two pictures. And I used the squirrel. As far as why I called myself the Squirrel, I don't really know. I never really thought it would become a thing because I never thought that anyone would ever actually read. So I kind of thought it was a non-issue considering it would only be me and mom reading.
What does your mom think of the blog?
She knows about it. And sometimes she has some things to say. She's never been entirely critical. I'm not sure how she feels about some of the dad stuff. I got her permission to put my versions of the phone conversations on the blog. And I certainly would never reveal anything that she wouldn't want revealed. But in terms of the dad stuff, I don’t know how she feels about that, and the fact that I don't might mean she's still coming to terms with some of it.
If the [restaurant] staff knew about the squirrel, how would they react?
It would be horrible. That would be the day I pack it up and go somewhere else. They would two things, they would either come at me with endless, endless, endless ideas of what I should write about. Alan -- that's another thing that I should mention about the restaurant -- Alan is not that bad. But he is quite boring. And he would just give me a hundred ideas a day. And it would just be a nightmare. Or, they would start watching their behavior in front of me, which sort of neuters the blog.
[Lightning Round.] What would your last meal be?
Just regular burger? Cheese? Fries?
Burger with fries. And mozzarella.
Saturn Smith or Mortimer Hayden Smith?
Ooooh. That's tough. Can I go Saturmer Hayden Smith? Or Mortimer Saturn Smith?
I think we all heard Saturn first -- not sure what Mortimer's going to think about that.
If you could be anyone else, who would you be?
In the world?
What would you say to Barack Obama if you had the chance?
Ooooh. Boy, I don't know. I met the governor once – Blagojevich – and I froze. So I can't even imagine. I'm almost positive I would pass out or faint.
Single worst thing you've ever served?
Oooooh my god! How much time do you have?
We consistently send out bowls of pasta that should not be served. There was one that I knew was going to come back as I saw it walk past me. Like, there's no way that person is going to even take a bite out of that thing. It was an oil thing, and like the whole bottom of the bowl was oil, and you could see it like sloshing around as it was walking past. It was horrible! And I knew it was coming back. That was, like, two years ago, and I've never forgotten that bowl of pasta.