off to the pig races

“Terry wants to know if you’d be interested in attending a corn maze.”

Fortunately for Byl and his man Terry, a corn maze is one of many things in which I am interested, which includes but is not limited to:

  • eyebrow maintenance
  • Game of Thrones fan fiction
  • pudding cups
  • vintage stationery
  • boys

I accepted their invitation to drive to the corn maze, and I got started thinking about what I was going to wear. Continue reading

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I’m gonna call him Huck.

Let’s not even start with the shenanigans I tried to pull before attending a baby shower for M & C this past Sunday. I thought I’d be slick and surprise them after saying I wouldn’t be able to come. But it’s pretty dickish to mess with the emotions of a pregnant lady, especially one who has had my back for nearly twenty years and is seriously tied with JB and N for the very best person that I know.

And I’ve been pretty “Brooklyn sucks gentrification blah blah blah white people ruin everything” for the last few years but it took no more than a few hours of seeing people on the subway looking all happy with their babies and their produce and their interesting shoes to convince me that if this is where little baby Huck (M & C have been calling him “Figaro” but I KNOW BEST) is going to be born and raised, I’d better get on board the B (for Brooklyn! for baby!) train before I get left behind.

So this is the story of how I spent a little over 12 hours in New York City on Sunday. Continue reading

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what i did on my summer vacation


  • Bought my friend Dave a bootleg Darth Vader piñata from Dulcelandia for his birthday
  • Went to New York to see the Charles James show at the Met, hung out in Sunnyside with friends eat massive green chile burgers and meet Sari’s adorable baby, go to a benefit, stay in fancy hotels
  • Read in Carly and Rose’s first show


  • Ran an alumni version of ScavHunt
  • Hung out with Zeke the Cat
  • Took a selfie that I like
  • Flew to LA for V3Con, finally met Joz, ate the same meal at the same restaurant two days in a row
  • Danced to house music with a bunch of other middle-aged people in Daley Plaza


  • Spent July 4th weekend with Lola
  • Said goodbye to Ellen who moved to Seattle
  • Went on insulin
  • Got a Fitbit
  • Went to Pitchfork
  • Walked home from the Loop, broke my feet (temporarily)


  • Drank at The Cove for the first time in 15? 16? years
  • Practically threw up when I saw my piece about the history of prom at my alma mater published in the school bulletin because I was nervous about it being horrible
  • Was the first return reader for That’s All She Wrote Chicago
    • This was also my first live lit show to be held at a tattoo parlor
  • Looked after all the cats in Chicago
  • Hung out with Patrick who came for a visit
    • snorgled belugas
    • saw Robyn and Royskopp
    • ate at Hot Doug’s, probably for the last time
  • Saw Funkadesi play Summerdance, and the experience had me thinking of what Stefon from SNL might say: “The hottest night in Chicago is the Funkadesi show in Grant Park. This show had everything: turbans, Brazilian drummers, bros doing Bollywood dance, white guys in dashikis.”
  • Labor Day weekend
    • Cabaret at the Music Box
    • Art Institute with Toni, Magda, and Andrea to see the Magritte show and get all worked up over it
    • Lie around Leah’s, house-sitting and cat-sitting
    • Binge-watch second season of “Masters of Sex”

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Me Talk Titty One Day

I’m fat.

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.

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camera shy at Meowth By Meowthwest

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.

Happy Sunday.

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by | March 9, 2014 · 12:59 pm

this is the story

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.

Here’s hoping.

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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

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The City of Big Lessons: My Years as a Chicagoan, Part One


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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happy new year

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.

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Meet our readers: Jasmine Davila


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 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.

Ms. Davila in Paris, pretending to be Adele singing “Someone Like You” to the horror of nearby tourists.

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