I’ve been blogging weekly at Miss Spoken since Carly’s been on maternity leave. I will also be co-hosting the show in her absence so come to the Gallery Cabaret tonight at 7pm if you like me, live lit, and cheap drinks.
Originally posted on Miss Spoken:
Congratulate me, you guys – I spent enough time travelling on the same airline in 2014 to qualify for the bottom tier of elite status of its frequent flier program.
I take special delight in being able to use priority access security lanes when I arrive at the airport. I still have to take off my shoes when I go through the body scanner, though. And it’s not like TSA agents are nicer to me just because my boarding pass has the word PRIORITY printed on it all in caps. But shorter lines mean less time spent having my panoply of anti-aging creams scanned and more time eating Garrett’s Popcorn from the kiosk in Terminal 3 of O’Hare.
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When your lovely pals invite you to join them for post trick-or-treating snacks “any time after 5pm” that means you should probably try to get there not at 7:30pm.
The Halloween you swear you will address any small child dressed as Elsa from Frozen, sporting long white blond hair and a light blue gown, as Daenerys Stormborn or Khaleesi or Mother of Dragons is the day you will see no children wearing that costume.
Chicken chili and a baked potato with butter and sour cream make for the perfect meal on a wet and blustery Halloween tonight.
Taking the Clark bus through Wrigleyville on Halloween night makes for good entertainment.
Look at this pulled pork pot pie. It has wee pastry pig on top of it. It was delicious!
This is Patrick and Carly. We hung out at a live lit/storytelling event last week.
This is my friend Sam. Her eyeglasses game is strong.
This is my friend Lisa. She threw a super fun 10th anniversary party for Chicagoist, the blog of which is she Associate Editor. Lisa has amazing hair and is an incredible person.
I looked after the cats of some friends last week. On our last night together, I made cat circles. I think the circles were just a little too big. The cats were indifferent.
This is the U of C pep band playing “Livin’ on A Prayer” at Homecoming last weekend. There were corn dogs and temporary tattoos and walking tacos and grilled meat and a football game and lots of beer. It was super fun.
These are the insanely attractive people who showed up for 20×2 Chicago at Schubas.
Carly and I went to Uncle Mike’s Place for Filipino breakfast on Sunday. It’s one of our things. We’re trying to get a lot of things in before she moves to Algonquin and our new thing becomes going to Culver’s (OMG I hope this happens).
One of the places I go to be alone in Chicago (if only for a few minutes) is a car on the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier.
I saw Il Trovatore at the Lyrica Opera last night. This is the crazy-looking scrim.
“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
I accepted their invitation to drive to the corn maze, and I got started thinking about what I was going to wear. Continue reading
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
- 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”
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.