Interview with Molly Prather: THAT Girl
As you scan around most bars you see them all - that girl who's too shy to talk to anyone but quietly judges behind her catseye glasses, that girl who's too drunk to realize she's been flashing the whole room, that guy who's got no game but seems to think he does, or that guy who thinks that a pocket full of money can help him get a hot bartender to do whatever he'd like her to do.
Molly Prather has been performing her one-woman show That Girl here in LA for the last 6 months, mostly at the Upright Citizens Brigade on Franklin (next to Birds). Tonight she will wow the crowd one last time before heading to the Comedy Central Space on 10/29.
LAist was lucky enough to check out the dvd of her show and ask her a few questions about being That Girl.
LAist: Your dvd box cover does you no justice. You look like a mess on the box cover but when one watches the dvd you're a good-looking woman. What was the logic behind all of this?
Molly Prather: I want people to see the poster of the show and think, “Oh girl. I’ve been there.” It’s a snapshot of that moment we’ve all had that is neither sexy nor attractive, and yet completely familiar. Besides, it’s a comedy show – how I look is irrelevant.
You were a bartender. How does a man pick up a hot babe bartender? Pretend the man is "cute enough to go home with if you're drunk" as you say.
In my 8 years of bartending, I’ve never gone home with a single customer. (Insert joke about the married ones.) Although when a particular regular nicknamed ‘Fat Keanu” once offered to buy my a Hillary Clinton diamond-studded pantsuit if I became his lady, I‘d be lying if I told you I didn’t take a moment to consider his offer.
Why are so many people obsessed with not being That girl or That guy - when being obsessive is just being a lamer version of That Girl? Meanwhile aren't the people that we're so afraid of being seem to be having a perfectly good time?
People judge each other. Period. The guy in the Banana Republic Khakis thinks the guy covered in tattoos is a douche bag, who thinks the girl in the pink micro-mini is a dumb slut, who thinks the girl in the Abercrombie ensemble is a bitch. We’re all That Girl or That Guy to someone else in the bar. It’s a matter of perspective. And yet the moment Living on a Prayer begins to play, everyone unites for 4:09 minute Madison Square Garden worthy rock-a-long where they all look like idiots. I say, “Fuck it.” Just do what you do, buy each other a shot, over-tip your bartender and have a night.