I am actually quite fat.
I’m fat pretty much everywhere, from the top of my big old Charlie Brown head to the bottoms of my Fred Flintstone feet. Fat everywhere except for two places.
Here, and here.
If I had to pick any two places on my body to be medium or even just a little undersized, it definitely would not have been in the tits.
I’ve been cat-sitting this weekend so naturally I’ve been referring to our time together as Meowth By Meowthwest, after that other springtime festival that happens every March in Austin, Texas.
I made the decision a few months ago to resume blogging about my life. But it only occurred to me now to actually, you know, begin to do it.
Like when I used to write a newsletter called “news from the flip front” that became a blog that became This Is Jasmine. Remember that? Wasn’t that fun, if terribly written?
Nearly 14 years later since that all started (never mind that I’ve been writing in one way or another since the age of 10), I like to believe my writing has improved, or at least has evolved.
I read this at the last ever Solo in the 2nd City show at Beauty Bar on February 13, 2014. The theme of the show being break-ups, I decided to look at the end of one thing as the beginning of something else.
According to some stupidass quiz on Facebook that it seems all of my female friends (yet, curiously, none of my male friends) have taken, I was supposed to have gotten married two years and seven months ago. The median age of my married friends is 37, and the quiz reminds me in the kind of hopeful way that only an internet quiz can have that “half of your friends were married after that age!”
Yeah. Thanks. I already knew that.
Not only because I took math in school and remember what the motherfuck a goddamn median is. But also because when those married friends got married I was there for, huh, I don’t know,the median number of them? Continue reading
Congratulations to Cee on five years in Chicago!
Originally posted on :
Anniversaries for longevity have been elusive milestones in my life. Growing up, the longest I lived anywhere was two years. I stayed in my college town for six years, not because it took me that long to get two degrees, but because I was so blinded by love that it took me a couple of years to figure out that the one thing I really wanted was to be left alone. I haven’t held a job, other than freelancing, for longer than two years. My aforementioned relationship was my longest, and it lasted just four years before ending with a lot of screaming and a partially-shattered sense of self-worth.
And when it was over, I landed in Chicago — five years ago today.
Conventional wisdom says that your early twenties are supposed to be the “best years of your life” and I guess, for me, that was no exception. I…
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I didn’t go out last night. I stayed in. Which was a bit lonely but okay. Next year I will totally invite myself over to somebody else’s house to watch tv and eat takeout.
Nite and I had dim sum at Furama. It was delicious and we were able to dish a little between bites of food.
After our meal, we stopped by Chiu Quon to pick up pastries to eat later at our respective homes.
I wonder if I could seriously visit Target every day in 2014. Christmas candy was 50% off, but I did buy a single bag of Valentine’s Day Hershey’s kisses at full price. Wishful thinking at my advanced age?
Oh who gives a shit.
The rest of the day was spent watching tv: a “Happy Endings” marathon on VH1, and the series 3 premiere of “Sherlock” on the internet.
Free Sunday night? Into live lit? Come to Swim Cafe and see me read an essay I wrote (and am now editing like mad) at That’s All She Wrote!
Originally posted on That's All She Wrote!:
It’s officially the Dark Season in Chicago, which means long nights for storytelling by writers like Jasmine Davila, a gal who’s not afraid to impersonate pop singers while in the streets of Paris.
Jasmine is a New Yorker who’s been calling Chicago home for the last 19 years. When she isn’t procrastinating on updating her long-neglected blog, This Is Jasmine, or hosting a monthly picnic club in parks around town or looking after her friends’ cats, she contributes to blogs such as Gapers Block and Disgrasian.com. Jasmine has been honored to read for live lit series Solo in the 2nd City and appeared most recently in 20×2 Chicago.
Come to Swim Cafe, 1357 W. Chicago Avenue, this Sunday and see Jasmine!
Ms. Davila in Paris, pretending to be Adele singing “Someone Like You” to the horror of nearby tourists.
I stocked the freezer with wings and tater tots, but I forgot to get more stuff to drink. I made spinach balls Friday night, two cookie sheets worth that went into the fridge to set. I made sure my bathing suit was dry, and asked the lovely doorman to send up my trio of guests when they arrived.
While Grant Park will be full of the best little Camelbak-sporting bros and Lana-bes that the city (and, let’s be honest, it’s suburbs) have to offer, my old ass will be sitting out Lollapalooza 2013.
Admittedly, Patrick and I had a pretty good time last year. But this year’s line-up didn’t grab us as much (though I’d love to see Queens of the Stone Age), and besides I have my own Lolla to throw this year.
Like I said yesterday, I’m cat-sitting in a building with a pool, so I’m throwing a small “Lollapapoolza” tomorrow as the weather permits. There will be spinach balls and prison cheesecake (chalk this up to my recent obsession with both the book and the tv show Orange Is The New Black) and good times for all.
I will keep an eye and a ear turned towards the Lollapalooza webcasts, in the hopes that some of my fellow old people pals who were crazy enough to brave the crowds make their way onscreen before getting swallowed up by the crowds of boys wearing flag and girls wearing fake flower crowns.