284: better late

1. A few notes on the last flip front

a. On New Year’s Eve, Har Mar picked a fight with the guy who he thought had thrown the beer, and got security to toss the guy out. But it was the wrong guy who got tossed. Oops.

b. Kathy got her pants at Nordstrom, but not in the plus size section. She’s way too small for that section and, like I said before, the selection of clothing was gross, anyway.

c. When I had dinner with Jenny at Feast, I had pretzel-encrusted chicken breast in bacon gravy, cheese mashed potatoes, and steamed broccoli. Delicious. Jenny ordered the pumpkin ravioli and for dessert, we split this chocolate mousse thing that looked like a tit. We made dirty jokes over the dessert and pretended to feel it up.

d. You know how they say how you spend New Year’s Eve is how you’re going to spend the rest of the year? Well, at the stroke of midnight, I was not kissing anybody, surrounded by drunk hipsters trying to make out with each other or scrambling up to the stage of the Empty Bottle to shove their tongues down Har Mar Superstar’s throat.

2. Where did you go

January 15: I have dinner with Jacinda, who I have not seen since New Year’s weekend. Considering that we used to live together, two weeks is forever. We go to Wishbone, as it’s near the Beat Kitchen, where Joe’s band is playing. At the restaurant, there is a circle of adults and children playing tin whistles, recorders, banjos, harps, whatever. It’s a little too ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou?’ for my taste, so I gossip with Jacinda and eat my dinner (strip steak, sauteed spinach, taters).

January 17: I go to 1000 Waves for my first massage ever, and I’m kicking myself for being late. At 1000 Waves, you can hang out in one of the saunas or in the Jacuzzi before your wrap or massage, not after. So I check in, strip down to my, *gulp*, birthday suit, and put on the cotton robe I got at the front desk. I have to slip through the relaxation room, through a sliding door, up some stairs, and into a waiting room full of magazines about yoga. My masseuse looks like a cross between Sandra Bullock and Zora from the first “Joe Millionaire”, but I do not hold this against her. We only have 30 minutes, so she focuses on my back, shoulders, and neck. I’m about to compliment her on the softness of the sheets, and ask her what kind of softener they use at the spa when . . . zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Huh? What? Oh right. The masseuse kneads my back which, according to my friend Jeff, is normally rock hard (that’s bad, right?) and is at that moment like so much dough. There is a round cushion under my feet so when she pushes I move, ever so slightly, up or down the table. My head is propped up by a little padded mount and, lying face down, the only view available to me is that of the hardwood floor, I manage to keep from drooling. But only just. When I have to roll over so she can work on my neck and shoulders from a different angle, I don’t fall off the table like I thought I would. Hooray.

Afterwards, I feel all sorted out and read Glamour while I waited for Kathy to finish with her massage. She finished and we sat for a bit, then went off to gorge ourselves on Indian food for lunch. After lunch, manicures at Hollywood Nails ($12, the cheapest manicure I’ve ever had in Chicago and one of the best) and then back to my house for ‘Absolutely Fabulous’. I spent the evening dozing on my couch.

January 18: I spent the morning at Phoenix with Dan, waiting for a table along with dozens of other people who, like us, were jonesing for dim sum but didn’t make reservations. Joe and Jacinda were running late, so Dan and I gossiped, made fun of the other patrons, and exclaimed over the hostess, who was ridiculously cute (half Asian, half Caucasian — Patrick, you would have loved her) while she barked into a walkie talkie and froze at her wooden podium. A few minutes before we were called up, a waiter came down with hot tea.

Dim sum was, as ever, excellent. Our table was right in the middle of the room, so we always had a cart within reach. I have come to the conclusion that I could live the rest of my life eating nothing but roast pork buns. The restaurant was full of cute babies and multi-culti families that had me envisioning the children I don’t plan on actually having. Or maybe it was the steam from the carts that was making me dizzy. Whatever — I had gadding about to do with Jacinda. After lunch, we went to (Sub)Urban Outfitters on Clark, and I have now come to accept that I am too old for 90% of the merchandise, but not so much that I won’t buy a cheap side table/dinner tray/ottoman for my underfurnished apartment. Mwa ha ha ha ha. We end the day at the movies, where we go see “Win A Date with Tad Hamilton!” The theater was full of Trixies who couldn’t get in to see “Along Came Polly”. Common sense, and Jacinda would tell you that this is a sign that maybe the movie will suck, but I listened to neither. I enjoyed myself, as did Joe, but Jacinda thought the movie sucked. And maybe it did, but I got my cheesy romantic comedy fix out of the way so I could temper it with seeing “The Fog of War” (more on that later).

January 19: Ate huge lunch at Fogo de Chao with a few folks from work Went home and slept for, like, ever. Dreamt of the cute waiters in their short pants. When I woke up, I made the mistake of watching “The Ring” alone. I’d been wanting to see this anyway, but I should have waited until I had, like, a bunch of friends over so we could go out and be happy in the sunshine after the movie ended. This worked for me when I saw “Silence of The Lambs” years ago — nothing to balance the fear from a scary movie with the thrill of shopping for old Smiths singles at Bleecker Bob’s in the Village.

January 20: Foley’s on Irving Park is the greatest bar ever. After the Beachwood, of course. And the old Tuman’s. And the L & L. And the Monkey Bar in New York. Wanda made popcorn for me and the ladies (Jan, Jean, Sarah, Erin, Lisa, Paige) and the gents (Rob, Eddie) while the regulars gave us the evil eye. Can we help it if we’re so nice that Wanda will give us buffalo wings? Even with all that food, I still bought a bag of tamales from the guy who came in with a cooler full.

January 24: Dinner with Jeff, then “The Fog of War” at The Music Box. I didn’t know whether or not I wanted to throw Robert McNamara in jail or invite him out for a cocktail. It’s a good movie, so go see it.

January 25: I miss the bit where Diane Keaton or somebody said “shit” during the Golden Globes. Loved Kim Cattrall’s dress and Allison Janney’s hated Scarlett Johansson’s and wondered what the fuck Meryl was talking about after she realized that the bottom half of her dress was sheer. Steroids? Gay marriage? And was anybody else delighted and surprised that “The Office” won for best comedic tv series? And was anybody else dismayed to see that Degrassi was nowhere to be found in any of those nominations?!

Yeah, me too.

I’m still digesting the Oscar nominations. If Johnny Depp won, would he in fact be the first alum of “21 Jump Street” to win an Academy Award? Will Sofia Coppola wear flats to the ceremony as she did to the Globes? When Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara perform “A Kiss at The End of The Rainbow” from A Mighty Wind, will they dress up in character?

I hope so, too.

Cheers,
Jasmine

“I love it when people say, ‘I just can’t tell any of you people apart!’ Why do you have to tell us apart? Are we going to be separated for some reason? I mean, I can’t fucking tell us apart. I don’t have a chip embedded in my neck that automatically identifies every Asiatic person that I know: ‘Beep beep beep beep beep Filipino!'”
(Margaret Cho)

“Unlike other designers, I am incapable of saying, for example, that Jennifer Lopez inspires me.”
(Stella McCartney)

songs
Primal Scream – Don’t Fight It, Feel It; The Beautiful South – Tonight I Fancy Myself; New Order — Temptation; Outkast – She’s Alive; Billie Holiday – East of the Sun (and West of the Moon); Maroon 5 – This Love (I know it’s kinda cheesy, but it’s still cute); The White Stripes – You’ve Got Her in Your Pocket; Peter Lawford – Be A Ladies’ Man

links

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