favorite things for the month of January
- the last four minutes of “I Am The Resurrection” by The Stone Roses
- apple pie with Häagen-Dazs Dulce de Leche ice cream
- dog prints in snow
- Hello Kitty stationery, Camellia series
In case you were wondering, I did see Kim play at the Metro Friday night. It was a good time. I would have stayed at home to play with my new cell phone (it has neat ringers! it vibrates! it even has a little loop for my Hello Kitty leash!) but Foster called me up: “Jasmine! I’m gonna go see Kim so you have to come, too! Call me!” So we met in front of the Metro at 9:15, Foster’s hair gelled up into spikes and my hair pulled back into pigtails. Having pushed our free tickets at the bouncer, we made our way up to the balcony where we rocked out.
The crowd was pretty thin for the first band, increasing considerably for Kim. Foster and I admired Janet’s SG while bopping around and ignoring the drunk frat boys next to us. Kim is a cute band, and quite good. They had some new songs, none of which I recognized, so I bought their CD on the way out. Foster and I went to McDonald’s (I know it’s bad, but I craved a fish sandwich) while we plotted our next move.
We hauled ass to Club Foot, where we found Jeremy and his friend Matt checkin’ out the ladies. The ladies were kinda cliquey, though a Rubenesque girl wearing a leopard print skirt and bleached hair pounced on Foster. Then Matt and I proceeded to have yet another conversation the contents of which I’ve completely forgotten. He and Jeremy are kinda dorky, but they’re totally adorable. I think they need a fan club or something. Either that or start a boy band, I haven’t decided yet.
I did very little Saturday, and no doubt you all have detected that this is a habit of mine. To be fair, I *did* get up early to do yoga with the video that Kathy got me for Christmas. Rodney Yee, the yoga guru who leads? hosts? the session, is kinda scary he’s so limber. Props must be paid to any man who has the nerve to do yoga in a Speedo on the beach at the asscrack of dawn. Eek.
Later that afternoon, I had a real craving for some movies, especially “Tampopo”. I took it upon myself to scour the local shops for the video and found that the Tower Records, Borders, Coconuts, and Reckless records had no copies to buy or rent. They all had DVDs of “Gladiator” and “Titanic” — blech. I found some other good stuff used, so I settled down for a quiet Saturday night with Joe, Jacinda, and “Romy & Michele’s High School Reunion”. It’s not a great movie, but it’s all shiny and there’s bouncy music and frankly what else was I going to watch on a cold and somewhat snowy night?
Saturday turned into Sunday, which was also pretty slow albeit in a groovy sort of way. Andrea and I went to Thousand Waves and sat in the hot tub for I don’tknow how long but I was all pruney when I got out. I felt like a dork in my bathing suit — I guess if I were cooler I’d let my business hang out for all the world to see ‘cos I’m sure that nobody would mind. But I would, so I kept it on. We gossiped, tried not to space out too much in the redwood sauna, and played Scrabble. She kicked my ass, but only ‘cos she played rather creatively. She put down two words in one turn a few times, and I’m not entirely sure you can do this but that’s the way her mom plays. Maybe it’s a Canadian thing? We ended the excursion with lunch at an Indian buffet, where I proceeded to make a fool out of myself with the naan. It was quite delicious.
So Sunday ended on the good vibe I had established that morning at the spa, as Kathy and I hung out at Jorge’s apartment and watched “Sex and The City”. Such a good episode — kind of sad, not ha-ha funny, and I loved Charlotte’s dresses. We had pie a la mode, homemade tamales, and really good champagne that got me all tipsy. I was all flustered, my face a rather unbecoming red, but I felt better when Kathy hugged me, laughing, to say “You are so your stereotype!” Which I don’t mind so much, only if I’m going to be my stereotype why can’t I be a math genius, too?
I got some new stuff at the Sanrio store last night, the coolest item probably being the faux-leather handbag, stamped with a Louis Vuitton-esque pattern of Hello Kitty’s head, hearts, and the initials “KT” in beige. You can accuse Sanrio of plenty of things — being silly, frivolous — but you can’t accuse Sanrio of not having a sense of humor.
I’ve been rocking the bus lately, eschewing the el in favor of the bus with its scenery and interesting customers. When I went to buy a phone Friday night, I sat behind the driver, across the way from a middle-aged woman who was using several frayed plastic bags as a purse. She had bluish-silver eye shadow smeared on her lids, which matched the shade of her nail polish. I didn’t get everything but a few words did stand out: “masturbate”, “hoochie”, “ho”, and “itchy”. It didn’t sound very good. It was similar to some kids on whom I was eavesdropping Sunday evening when I was going to meet Kathy. I was on the red line, and some kids were quarreling about something or other. I didn’t quite hear what, but it was very loud and one of the kids (I wasn’t sure if it was a boy or a girl) wore some ratty extensions. It made me nostalgic for my own adolescence, when I would sit on the train or the bus, listening for the personal stories of people whose lives always seemed infinitely more exciting than my own.
But when the pen is to paper, I never stop to think
That I should stop thinkin’ about you that way
Kim – Evil Cadillac; Queen – Tie Your Mother Down; Bobby Conn – Never Get Ahead; Ladytron – Playgirl; The Beautiful South – Some Might Say; Patti Smith – When Doves Cry
Gallery of Regrettable Food [lileks.com]