Tag Archives: Rozi

fun house

Andrew will thumb wrestle you to the ground.

Andrew will thumb wrestle you to the ground.

Yesterday was my friend Andrew’s birthday. Rozi invited me over for dinner to surprise him. She invited Joe, Jacinda, and Hyacinth as well, so it would be a little party for the birthday boy.

I took the Metra with Rozi up to their house in Evanston, stopping at Tag’s Bakery to pick up a mini birthday cake and two cupcakes for dessert.

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dinner with friends

This post is going to seem out of order, date-wise. I think because I took too long a break from updating this blog with the excuse that it was my birthday and then it was Easter and then I had too much television to catch up on. Never again!

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evening chat

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another Sunday at the Publican

Scrapple & Eggs

Nathan has an R2-D2 tattoo


Andrew, animated

Rozi & Nathan

Jon & Alissa

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the Boy in Red Pants

ready... steady...

ready... steady...

We’d just had dinner at The Orange Garden. Orange chicken, sesame chicken (my favorite), garlic beef (my second favorite), pork fried rice, egg rolls. Plenty of food, so I definitely needed that walk home afterwards.

At first this video was called “Nathan walks” because it features Nathan, you know, walking. Then I decided I like the sound of “the Boy in Red Pants” better because it reminds me of the Boy with Purple Socks from Harriet The Spy.

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the week that was

Monday, March 2: Free screening of “Last House on The Left”, which was totally fucked up but tense in a good way. Elisa was my guest. I had popcorn for dinner. I need to start packing food for these things. Or at least commit to having a movie hot dog and/or pretzel for supper. Continue reading

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358: heavy air

{i had a biopsy and all i got was this lousy scar}1. chick flick

I’ve been feeling restless lately. Maybe it’s the humidity, the arrival of summer and clouds of gnats that surprise me on the walk home from the bus stop. I begin to sweat almost as soon as I step outside and squint into the sunshine. Nights are the worst — wind is high, and I talk on the phone outside my building. Not only because my cell phone reception is bad inside my apartment, but also because I enjoy the wind blowing my skirt up past my knees.

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317: minneapolis wedding song, part 3

9/3 (Sunday), 10:30 — Arrival at Urban Retreat (http://www.urbanretreat.com) for makeup. I behave myself and do not go mad buying Kiehl’s products for 50% off retail.

10:35 — After hanging up my dress, Dana starts on my face. She does my eyes to match the dress (http://www.watters.com/images/products/fullview/1432.jpg in periwinkle) and finds that none of her lipstick works with my eye makeup. I didn’t bring anything that would work with lavender eye shadow because, well, what in the world could work, so she puts on some nude gloss and we cross our fingers. I admire Cathern’s perfectly smooth flat-ironed bob and wished that I had hair that behaved itself.

11:00 — I hang out with Rozi as her hair is put up, then taken down and then put up again with some stephanotis. The stylist Shannon is upbeat and cracks jokes with us. I drink a gigantic iced coffee, get cash, and gossip with Jacinda on the phone.

12:00 — Shannon pulls my hair off my face, curling it so it looks like a waterfall. At certain angles, it makes me think of a bridal mullet, but I still like it. Miriam and I take pictures of Rozi, Elaine, Rozi and Elaine, Shannon, Shannon and Rozi, Elaine and the almost mute girl with implants who does her hair.

1:30 — We drive back to the hotel to dress. Dawn is running around doing coordinator stuff, so I struggle into my toe-less hose, put on my dress, and realize that I should have tried to lose 10 pounds. Dammit.

2:30 — I make my way to Cathern’s room, where she zips me up, and we go over our toasts. Cathern’s friend Steve watches the US Open while we touch up makeup, fiddle with our hair, and snack on fries.

2:45 — We go to Rozi’s room for a little quiet time. Andrew, handsome in a suit and Brooks Brothers tie, nearly cries when he sees us in the corridor.

2:46 — I nearly burst into tears when Rozi lets us into her suite. She looks gorgeous.

3:00 — We make it down to the Frost Room for formal pictures, stopping in the Quinn Room to get our flowers (the bridesmaids’ bouquets are pink sweetheart roses with blueberries), and pop in breath mints. Pictures of everyone in every single configuration we can conjure are taken: Rozi and Andrew with parents, bridesmaids, groomsmen, each other, Grandma Charlotte, and Aunt Rita and Uncle I still can’t remember his name. One of the photographers hands me some MAC blot powder to take care of the oil slick on my forehead, and I concentrate on looking thinner.

4:30ish — Andrew and Rozi meet with the judge to sign the ketubah. By this point, it’s raining pretty steadily so Andrew and Rozi nix the original plan to take post-ceremony pictures by the Mississippi River. The photographer suggests they hop in somebody’s car after the ceremony is over to catch their breaths and be alone before the reception.

4:55 — We line up, wait for the music to start for the walk down the aisle. As we walk along, I catch up to Andrew, who looks at me and says “Did you know that next month we’ll have known each other for ten years?” I nearly cry right then and there.

5:00 — Procession starts. Ceremony begins. My sandals almost fall off my feet, but they don’t. The space where the ceremony is held is a corridor in the depot, between the ballroom where the reception is to take place and the indoor ice rink. We all stand on a stage, facing out towards the guests. I don’t have anything to do during the ceremony except not fall over and try not to sob hysterically during the readings. But when I heard Rozi choke up a bit reading one of Pablo Neruda’s sonnets, my eyes watered and then it was all over by the time Andrew read the following:

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.

And the roses were very much embarrassed.

“You are not at all like my rose,” he said. “As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world.”

“You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he went on. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you–the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.”

I swear to Jebus, my eyes are tearing up as I write this, and the wedding was almost two weeks ago. So of course at the wedding, I was nearly inconsolable. Everything was gorgeous, and all I could do was cry. Rings were exchanged, shawls were draped around them in the Ismaili tradition, and they kissed. And as Ben walked me down the aisle, I was completely overwhelmed. A summer of my best friends’ weddings and I was completely undone. Jacinda felt the same way. Later in the evening, after dinner but before dessert in a room full of pink roses and candlelight, after Rozi and Andrew had their first dance (an Elvis impersonator singing “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You”), Jacinda and I smoked in the hotel bar and cried a little bit.

Because Rozi looked magnificent. Because Andrew’s speech was hilarious. Because my speech was excellent. Because there were no viable single boys for me to smooch. Because the cake was delicious. Because Rozi’s mother and aunts could not stop laughing. Because we wanted to write Rozi a thank you note for loving Andrew enough to marry his crazy (but in a good way) ass. Because Kevin danced the savoy. Because the Elvis impersonator jumped on stage with the band and kicked serious ass. Because I really loved my bridesmaid dress. Because if I ever got married I would want it to be exactly like that night.

9/6 (Monday): After brunch at the hotel, we piled back into the rental car and drove home to Chicago. Stopping, of course, in the Dells to visit Culver’s for custard and burgers. My bouquet tucked safely in beside me, I listened to music, checked e-mail from my cell phone, and started making plans for Nick and Nadine’s engagement party this winter. Kevin and I ended up having dinner at Joe and Jacinda’s, sitting around the living room while the dogs made eyes with us, silently begging for scraps.

So, what did you lot do for Labor Day weekend? Is it getting colder where you are? Are you still wearing white even though white after Labor Day weekend is a no-no? Did you, like me, go crazy redecorating your bathroom? Did you go out earlier this week and consume a large Indian dinner? Tell me tell me tell me.



“Nice girls don’t let men kiss them until after they’re engaged. Men don’t want the bloom rubbed off.” “Personally, I think I have too much bloom. Maybe that’s the trouble with me.”


De La Soul – I Can’t Call It; Don Covay – Overtime Man; Wayne McGhie and the Sounds of Joy – Dirty Funk





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316: minneapolis wedding song, part 2

Note: Sorry this took so damn long to write. But at least I managed to get it out before Andrew and Rozi returned from their honeymoon! Also, pics (such as they are) are on-line at http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasmine/sets/15398/.

9/2: We spent about two hours on the Kennedy along with motorists desperate to escape the city for one last hurrah in the country. Whether headed to the Dells or to the airport to catch a flight to a sufficiently exotic locale, the people of the outbound Kennedy had one thing in common: they were in our fucking way. Kevin drove while I scanned around for an available frequency upon which my iPod could broadcast. Jacinda and Joe were tucked in the back, surrounded by pillows and diet Coke and pretzels. We made fun of each other and ugly drivers (“Yo, Jasmine, what’s your man doing in that hoopty!”) until we got clear of the traffic clusterfuck, turned on the cruise control, and headed through the Dells, stopping at Culver’s for custard, ButterBurgers, fries and the leftover Indian food which Kevin had been saving from the night before. Once we were back on the road, we were quieter, smoking cigarettes or humming along with the radio as we got closer to Minneapolis-St. Paul, to Joe and Jacinda’s hotel, to Doug and Dave’s (where Kevin and I stayed), to the state fair, and to Andrew and Rozi’s wedding.

9/3: I woke up in Doug and Dave’s guest room, in a fluffy brass bed. The first thing I saw after putting in my contacts were black and white art photographs of nude women, circa 1910. Very hot, though not as hot as the British royalty memorabilia scattered throughout the guest bathroom adjoining my room. I said goodbye to Doug and Dave as they drive off to Milwaukee for a softball tournament, then started a load of laundry while Kevin had his morning coffee and surfed the web from an Art Deco armchair.

After a few hours of slouching around the house, we picked up Joe and Jacinda and went off to the Minnesota State Fair (http://www.mnstatefair.org). We had a few hours before we had to meet up with our respective bachelor or bachelorette parties, so we spent that time eating as many food items on sticks as we could find. Corn dogs, porkchops, walleye, hush puppies, birch beer (okay, not on a stick, but maybe the vendor will come up with something for next year). We visited the DFL (http://www.dfl.org) tent, where I bought buttons and we all contributed to a wall of Post-It notes that listed reasons why their authors were voting for the Democrats in November: ‘Education!!!’, ‘Peace’, ‘To wipe that smirk off his face’. I put up a note, even though I can’t vote, which read ‘Because it’s nuclear, not nucular’, which the DFL volunteers seemed to like very much.

Then more food. We visited the 4-H building, where we critiqued (read: made fun of) the various dioramas (who knew a 14 year old boy would have so much to say about post-partum depression, and could express it so succinctly on posterboard?) and exclaimed over another youngster’s analysis of the fiber content in an Old Navy fleece jumper. We got fans decorated with celebrity seed art portraits (http://www.artsmia.org/exhibitions/details.cfm?EV_ID=1544). Kevin got some custard, and we met up with Rozi, Andrew, and their folks.

After the boys went off in one direction, we girls proceeded to eat mini-doughnuts, deep-fried Oreo cookies, deep-fried cheese curds, deep-fried pickles, fried green tomatoes, and corn fritters. Jacinda and I went back to the walleye stand to get more birch beer (seriously, does anyone know where I can find this stuff in Chicago?) when this man got up in her face and rasped “Hey! Nice freckles” right before his girlfriend turned up, gave Jacinda a dirty look, then dragged her perv away. Next stop: pork chops on sticks for Rozi, Lynne, Cathern, Miriam, Dawn, and Rona while Jacinda and I rode the River Raft Ride, which was totally fun but our asses got soaked. Off to the swine barn, wet skirts and all, to look at the pigs, with a quick detour so Rozi could buy a Scotch egg (which reminded me of meatloaf, actually) and so I could have some frozen chocolate custard. The swine barn smelled of swine of course, and was the temporary home of Terry, the largest boar in Minnesota. A sow was nursing piglets, which was adorable until the smell of pigs just overtook me and I had to go outside. Which was too bad, Jacinda said as we waddled over to the Giant Slide, as I missed all the gay sheep sex. Rozi proposed we race down the Giant Slide, so Jacinda and I took her up on it, bought our burlap sacks and assumed our positions at the top. Signage advised sitting back on the sack while leaning forward, but my huge gut didn’t heave forward enough for me to beat Jacinda, whose large breasts assured her victory.

After the fair, we went out for drinks, the boys to some tapas bar while the girls walked through the fine Minnesota night to The Local (http://www.the-local.com), where Dawn gave me advice on how to disguise your double chin in photographs, and Rozi’s friend Elaine a Blow Job (http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/2858) for Rozi, who refused to chug it as required by bachelorette tradition. I got to chat some more with Rozi and Andrew’s friend Lynne, who made me promise to dial her up the next time I was in New York so we could sit in bars, ogle cute boys, and act too damn shy to meet them. After the Local, Kevin brought me to a gay bar in St. Paul that he liked to visit when he lived in Minneapolis. It was like Big Chicks (http://metromix.chicagotribune.com/barsandclubs/mmx-4175_lgcy.story) only with more lesbians and kinda crappy music.

9/4: I was late to the salon, so my manicure got bumped. The other bridesmaids shook their heads at me as I slunk into my seat at lunch (http://twincities.citysearch.com/profile/5583973) with Rozi and Andrew’s mothers. Our waiter was attentive, but his eyes looked like they were going to bust out of his head, so it took me a few seconds to compose myself and croak out ‘croque monsieur’. Rozi cried a little bit, because we were all there for her and for Andrew, and I have to admit I was a little verklempt myself. After lunch, I had my manicure while Elaine and Dawn shopped for toe-less pantyhose, then we drove back to the hotel for the rehearsal.

I was paired up with Ben as my groomsman, first down the aisle after the officiant, Andrew’s grandmother Charlotte, Aunt Rita and Uncle whose name I can’t remember, Andrew and his parents. Andrew’s friend Matt D. was the best man, and while we were never especially close I was genuinely glad to see him — not only because it wasn’t clear if he would make the rehearsal in time, but because I know that Andrew really loved him and wanted him to stand up. We rehearsed, then I went up to Dawn’s room to smoke, flip through cable (one of the channels was of the hotel’s indoor water park), and smoke some more. Then it was 4pm, and time to get on a bus to Lake Minnetonka for the rehearsal dinner.

*jasmine’s tips for cruising the waters of Lake Minnetonka*

1. On the bus ride over, try to get on the bus with the fun rowdy young folks.

2. If you see your date driving to the rehearsal dinner in a silver VW Cabrio convertible, do not be bitter, as you will catch a ride back, at which point you may then pretend to be a flashy movie star speeding away from the paparazzi.

3. Bring Dramamine, even if you yourself do not get motion sickness. Somebody else might need it.

4. It can get pretty windy, so wear trousers or be prepared to flash cousin Eliot as you make your way down to the buffet.

5. Wave back when folks on other boats wave to you.

6. Resist the temptation to hum the theme to “Gilligan’s Island” even though the rehearsal cruise is exactly three hours long and you think it is hilarious.

7. When smoking outdoors, do not use other guests’ dinner plates as ashtrays.

8. Do not get caught groping your date’s crotch. You know who you are.

Kevin and I drove back into the city from the lake, top down and everything, so I played loud thumping music, smoked, and let my hair whip around. We were the first people back to Nye’s Polonaise (http://www.nyespolonaise.com), so we scored a booth and ordered some drinks. People from the wedding, guests and party members alike, wandered in and got caught up in the polka band. Nate and Celi turned up, as did Seema and Joe, so we caught up, drank some more, and collectively sighed as we watched Andrew escort Rozi, hand on her waist, outside so she could get home and rest. Kevin dropped me off at home so I could get some sleep before I had to get up, get my hair and makeup done, and pray that I didn’t start bawling during the ceremony.



“Nice girls don’t let men kiss them until after they’re engaged. Men don’t want the bloom rubbed off.” “Personally, I think I have too much bloom. Maybe that’s the trouble with me.”


Big Star – O My Soul; Suede – To The Birds; The Roots – The Seed (2.0)




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315: minneapolis wedding song (teaser)

1. It’s been three weeks since I’ve written. I am aware of this. You can always go back and read the archives at http://flipfront.wordpress.com.

2. Culver’s (http://www.culvers.com) is the greatest thing that could happen to a hungry motorist travelling throughout the upper Midwest.

3. The bed in Doug and Dave’s guestroom was wonderful.

4. Don’t eat five pounds of fried cheese two days before you have to wear a very form-fitting bridesmaid dress.

5. If you’re racing your friends down the giant slide at the Minnesota State Fair, it helps to have big boobs. Just ask Jacinda.

6. Everybody looks good wearing a pair of paper pig ears.

7. The river rapids ride at the Minnesota State Fair looks tame, but your ass will get soaked and your skirt will become see-through. Just ask Jacinda.

8. If you’re running a dinner cruise service on Lake Minnetonka, I believe it helps to have Dramamine on hand for those guests of yours afflicted with motion sickness.

9. A 2002 VW Cabrio is, according to someone who is not actually me, gayer than anal sex.

10. If Jacinda calls you up with good gossip, try not to cackle too loudly into the phone unless you’re prepared to share.

11. Even if you say you’re not going to cry, be cautious and don’t have Dana at Urban Retreat put mascara on your bottom lashes. And if she does it anyway, make sure you have a handkerchief ready during the wedding.

12. There should be more Elvis impersonators at wedding receptions: http://www.elvistributeartist.com/information.htm (check out http://www.elvistributeartist.com/wpe63.jpg).

13. Dawn Kim kicks ass.

14. Toe-less pantyhose is a strange (no toes!) and wonderful (if you often forget to moisturize, as I do) invention.

“I’m nostalgic for conversations I had yesterday. I’ve begun reminiscing events before they even occur. I’m reminiscing this right now. I can’t go to the bar because I’ve already looked back on it in my memory. And I didn’t have a good time.” (Max, Kicking and Screaming)

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