256: boys in the sand

I. Questions

a. Why is that, whenever I’ve eaten bad Chinese food, I feel the same as if I had made out with an unsavory boy in a dark alley and found the experience enjoyable and disgusting at the same time?

b. Is Keira Knightley (“Bend It Like Beckham”) just a younger, taller, thinner, less boob-a-licious Winona Ryder? Natalie Portman?

c. Those artificially faded jeans that look like you shit your pants – why haven’t they gone away yet?

d. And why haven’t acid wash jeans made their triumphant return to our nation’s retail outlets? Are they too ironic? Or not ironic enough?

II. The Big List of Things I’m Currently Obsessed with Right This Very Minute

a. the MLB GameCast feature on espn.com

b. sheer pink lip gloss – I’ve bought a different tube, each from a different company, every month for the last six months. Current favorite: MAC’s Lip Glass in Pink Poodle.

c. the guy who plays Ephram on “Everwood” – Jacinda and I watched “Everwood” last week and marveled at how cute this lad is. Why didn’t boys look like that when we were sixteen? Why did they look like rejects from “The Outsider” or, worse yet, extras in the Christian Slater skateboard epic “Gleaming The Cube”?

d. Nars eye shadow palette in “Rated R” (http://www.sephora.com/assets/dyn/sku/652305/652305_sw.jpg)

e. Oh, and the Queens of the Stone Age “Rated R” (I don’t care if he’s dating Brody Armstrong – Josh Homme is still my man)

f. Doggy. Fizzle. Televizzle – bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

g. America’s Next Top Model – I want Elyse to win, but I have this feeling the judges will probably go with Shannon or Adrianne instead.

h. the fact that “Why Can’t I?”, the first single from Liz Phair’s new record, sounds like it should be the theme to MTV’s “Sorority Life”. Or that it would work as the opening credit music for the next Olsen twins movie. Or a tampon commercial.

III. an almost-week in the life of Jasmine Davila

Friday, June 20, 7:45 pm: Justin and I are standing at the entrance to the Taste of Randolph Street festival. I make catty comments about the outfits of incoming yuppies while Justin guffaws. Jacinda shows up, and I convince the two of them and Joe (who is parking the car) that we should go to Athena for dinner instead.

Friday, June 20, 9:45 pm: Jacinda is crouching in a lot on Halsted Street, feeding her leftover spanakopita to nine stray cats. I make Joe promise that he will not let any of the cats into the car, and that he will leave Jacinda behind if she tries to sneak any of them in.

Friday, June 20, 11:30 pm: Beer. L & L Tavern, one of Stuff’s or FHM’s 20 Best Dive Bars in the US, 2002. There is a plaque hanging over the ladies’ loo that confirms this. Bottles of Iron City, the beer of the month, are $2. One sip and I know why they’re so damn cheap.

Friday, June 20, 11:55 pm: Jacinda and I are running down Clark Street, not unlike George and Paul getting chased around by thousands of teenage girls in “A Hard Day’s Night”. Only there are no hordes of people following us, just Joe and Dan dragging their feet and pretending not to know us. We see a kid walking towards us, father at his side and “Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix” in his hot, sweaty hands. Jacinda and I consider, if only for a brief moment, jumping this kid for his book so we don’t have to wait on line for our copies. After it occurs to us that we would like to have our own copies to read, we leave the kid alone and speed along.

Saturday, June 21, 2:00 am: I am in bed with my book, after having spent 30 minutes on line with Jacinda while Dan and Joe roam the aisles, away from the rabid Harry Potter fans. Customers who had spent the evening at the bookstore had fake lightning bolt tattoos on their foreheads. I run into Ryan Morehouse (AB ’99), who dragged his roommate along in his quest for a book. Jacinda and I, slightly drunk and entirely giddy, make mild threats and wonder aloud “Who do we have to blow to get a copy of the new Harry Potter around here?” The employees love it, and pose for pictures with Ryan and Jacinda. The book is wonderful, better than the last. I wonder if I will have the patience and discipline to parcel this book to myself in small, even doses.

Saturday, June 21, 3:30 pm: Hollywood Beach with Kathy and a gaggle of boys: Michael. Thom. Wenner. Albert. Jeff Ramone. Andy. Will. Chris. Damien. Kevin. I take pictures of Michael vamping in his bathing suit and we all pretend not to smell the weird sewage-like odor coming from the water. I alternate between socializing and reading Harry Potter while striking odd poses in my bathing suit, as to make the most of the sun for tanning purposes. I look like a big dork, but do not give a shite. Wenner and I plan to write a series of pornographic comic books called “Hello Pussy”. We wonder if we’ll get sued by Sanrio.

Saturday, June 21, 7:45 pm: Scary grocery store on Argyle and Sheridan. Buying soda for the barbecue that Christine is giving at her place down the road in honor of her boyfriend’s birthday. The sour-smelling couple in front of me buy packs of cheap cigarettes and demand change for the gumball machine.

Saturday, June 21, 10:00 pm: Gaggle of rude Korean girls take over Christine’s kitchen and ignore me, her and the other two non-Korean girls in the joint – Christine’s sister Sharon and Christine’s friend Ha. Never mind that it is Christine’s joint. The party is lovely, though – cupcakes, crudites, cheeseburgers, mojitos. We retreat to the porch to smoke and play mah-jongg. Christine’s parent’s dog Rocco, in town while Christine’s parents tour Scotland, is terrorized by the screaming Koreans and hides out on the porch, curled up in Sharon’s lap. Marshall comes out a few times to apologize and promises to get them out as soon as he can. He is drunk.

Sunday, June 22, 1:00 am: After the Koreans leave, us non-Korean chicks have more burgers and cupcakes and hang out with Steve and James, the two nice Korean boys who crack jokes and open our beer bottles. Christine drives me and Ha home, dropping Ha off first and me last. Which is what I was hoping for, as I enjoy our late night driving chats.

Sunday, June 22, 10:00 am: Wishbone on School & Lincoln. I am waiting for Jean, Amy and James in the middle of a gaggle of screaming children, exhausted parents, and doting grandparents. I try to ignore the din and read, but it is hard to isolate myself in the midst of so much screaming. Jean arrives, and we decide to wait at the bar with some Sprecher’s root beer for the Bushnells. Amy and James arrive, and we are seated in a booth. I take admiring pictures of everybody’s brunch, then we proceed to catch up on each other’s lives and debate the pros and cons of getting laid off. Con: no job. Shite economy. Pro: Big-ass windfall of cash, aka severance package.

Sunday, June 22, 1:30 pm: Run into Albert Loo (AB ’97) in front of the Belmont Army-Navy surplus outlet. Albert is now a promoter. He hands me a flyer which I promptly lose that afternoon. I find no cute trainers at either the outlet or the regular surplus store up the street. As I leave, a cute skater boy says something in my direction. I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or the salesgirl behind me, so I grin, sorta, and run away.

Sunday, June 22, 8:30 pm: Another episode of “Sex and The City” has just ended. The crowd at Kevin’s is satisfied with the season premiere. Or is that the yummy roast chicken we just had for dinner? Everyone but me is tipsy on Michael’s pina coladas. I have a nasty-ass headache, so I abstain. We find the VH1 Soul network, and so we groove to those late 80s/early 90s r & b and hip-hop classics I loved when I was in middle school. Tracie Spencer’s “Tender Kisses”! Tribe’s “Buddy”, featuring a very young Monie Love (where she at? in the middle!). Brownstone’s “If You Love Me”.

Monday, June 23, 4:30 am: I finish reading “Harry Potter & The Order of The Phoenix”. I wipe away tears, then try to sleep in the big box of hot that is my bedroom.

Monday, June 23, 2:00 pm: Maria’s desk in the new offices of the hedge fund where she works. There are two different kitchens on each of the seven floors that the company occupies, and two tv lounges on each floor with flat-screen widescreen televisions. Maria recounts her weekend in Dallas for me: rodeo was boring, shooting range was cool (!). Maria’s new haircut and highlights are fetching. We hear a stomping around as she gives me the tour and realize the sounds are issuing from my massive clogs. And when I say clogs I mean my shoes, as the word “clog” is not a euphemism for “breast”.

Tuesday, June 24, 1:00 am: Oooh, “Wigstock: The Movie” is on. Though I miss the crane shot where you can clearly see my big fat head and my brother Patrick, 12 years old at the time, wearing a blond Dolly Parton wig, I watch the whole movie. I marvel at Candis Cayne, and worship Leigh Bowery as s/he gives birth to a naked woman from within his egg-shaped costume.

Tuesday, June 24, 9:00 am: Wake up feeling ill and nauseous. Call in sick to work. Back to . . . *snore*.

Tuesday, June 24, 3:00 pm: “Today on Jerry Springer: ‘I’m in love with my daughter!'”

Tuesday, June 24, 8:00 pm: I watch “America’s Next Top Model” and bug my brother to get me the following on WinMX – Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” and Chic’s “Chic Cheer”. He comes through on both.

Sweatin’ like Whitney Houston going through customs,

Jasmine

*playlist*

Chic – Chic Cheer; The Velvet Underground – All Tomorrow’s Parties; Liz Phair – H.W.C. (still no “Flower”, but still a highly enjoyable nasty little thrill once you figure out what the H.W.C. is)

*links*

http://biz.yahoo.com/prnews/030623/atm007_1.html (Michael: “Does the winner also receive a complimentary lawn jockey dressed in a Delta flight attendant uniform?”)

http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/national/AP-Obit-Maddox.html

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~ by Jasmine on June 25, 2003.

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