Lé Breakfast, Lé Brunch, Lé Dork
So I saw Brendan Kelly (of Slapstick, the Broadways, the Lawrence Arms, Falcon…fame) at the fucking grocery store this weekend. I was walking–minding my own beeswax–looking for Mary, when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the elusive Chicago pop-punker. I did a double take as he realized that I knew that he knew that I knew who he was. Obviously he didn’t care cause he went on his merry way to buy tomatoes, croissants, Gold Bond, or whatever dude needed all whilst talking to Fat Mike, his investment banker, or the Pope on his celly. Apparently the Jewel in Lincoln Square is the place to be…Mary proceeded to make fun of me.

