349: the pope of chili town

1. now you know where i get it from; or, a sibling documents my dad’s party behavior (picture at http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasmine/8648271)


Date: Thu, 31 Mar 2005 11:36:08 -0800 (CST)
From: Joseline
To: Jasmine
Subject: Re: daddy karaoke queen

he might’ve been drunk from 1/2 a beer… if he even
made it that far… sometimes he takes like 2 or 3
sips and then he’s done

he was being a goof ball. he started the karaoke. he
stood up in the middle of the room and said, ‘ok, it’s
time for karaoke’

2. happy birthday, baby

“Let me tell you this, the older you do get the more rules they’re gonna try to get you to follow. You just gotta keep livin’ man, L-I-V-I-N.” (http://us.imdb.com/title/tt0106677/quotes)

These words came to me the evening of my birthday, which I spent making too much pasta for dinner and watching “America’s Next Top Model”. After a day spent eating Thai food and ice cream and cheesecake with Oscar, Cynthia, Jacalyn, and my old QA cohorts, and a few hours at the bar downstairs from the office getting dee-runk on vodka gimlets, Joe and Jacinda were kind enough to drive me home in a rainstorm so I could watch “America’s Next Top Model”, drown my headache in water and ibuprofen, and stuff myself with carbs. I think my dad called me, but I decided not to answer as I was feeling woozy and not great. 29 was feeling really great so far. At least until yesterday morning, when I found not one but two white hairs on my head. Oooh. But I spent the balance of Wednesday evening drunk, by myself, with a pounding headache and tomato cream sauce on my chin.

Because I like giving my friends options, as they are often very busy, I gave them a couple more chances to come out and celebrate the beginning of the last year of my twenties. On Friday, I headed to the Duke of Perth. Along for the ride were Jacinda, Joe, Andrew, Jalissa, some friend of Jalissa’s whose name I’ve forgotten, Thom (who has a video that will be playing on MTV2 in Europe shortly), Dan, Jan, Sarah, Kevin, Gabe, Oscar, and Damien. Jeremy came for a quick drink, too, but only after the rest of us had consumed enough fish, peas, chips, shepherd’s pie, salad, curried lamb strips, beer, cider, and scotch to make us well-fed, drunk, and very happy. The evening ended for me at the Korean karaoke place, where I and a few brave souls (Jacinda, Joe, Dan, Oscar, Damien) met up with Jed and Joanna for karaoke. A few tips:

a. If you act nice, the cranky old lady proprietor will let you drink beers in the hallway while you wait for a lounge to become available.

b. If Damien asks you to sing with him, be prepared to be the Usher to his Lil’ Jon, the Lil’ Jon to his Ying Yang Twins, the Latoya to his Michael. We sang Lil’ Jon’s “Get Low” and Britney and Madonna’s “Me Against The Music”, amongst others.

c. If you sing karaoke with Dan, keep the hip-hop, dance, and electronic stuff to a minimum. I know he probably didn’t enjoy Jacinda and me inflicting our searing rendition of Phil Collins’ “Sussudio” on his unsuspecting ears, but oh well. Happy birthday to me, bitches.

d. It doesn’t really matter what the lyrics to U2’s “Vertigo” are, does it? Jed took the lead while the rest of us yelled nonsense at each other.

3. I ♥ Tar-jay

I spent Saturday at home pretending to clean, watching “Bells Are Ringing” (I love Judy Holliday), and hanging with Kathy on the couch. Also, I went to Target a couple of times to buy a new coffeemaker, paper plates and such for the last birthday celebration I had planned (birthday pancake breakfast on Sunday). Also, the Cub Foods where I bought three pounds of bacon and a tin of baking powder that I didn’t end up needing.

When we were at the Target (oh, now it’s “the Target” — clearly, I’ve been in Chicago long enough that I can get away with saying “the Target”, “the Jewel”, et. al), the sassy cashier said he didn’t like my shoes. And then he asked me if I wanted a Target card. I said no. He looked as though he might ask me out, so I scampered off with the shopping cart before I could give him the chance.

4. pancakes

I got up early to clean, but there were still dust bunnies under the shelf where my television lives by the time my first guests arrived at 10 in the morning. I shoved CDs and mail (and my tax forms) into my room where they still sit in big horrible piles. I put up a few posters in the kitchen to make it look like I had made some progress in home decorating since the last time most of my friends saw my apartment, which was November 2003. I hadn’t, of course.

Oscar arrived first, and I immediately put him to work making pancakes. I made the coffee (which tasted okay, thank goodness) and then Kevin arrived. Then was it Jeremy and Helen, and then Thom and Kathy, and Khloé and Jeff, and then Dan and finally Gabe? I think so. Khloé immediately set to work making crepes and omelets. Jeff cracked open the windows, as it was gorgeous outside and my apartment needed ventilating (especially after we cooked the bacon in the oven, which set off the smoke alarm in the hallway outside my apartment). People talked politics and drank fruit punch. I told everybody Patrick’s suggestion for a charity single for Terri Schiavo, and we looked up which celebrities shared our birthdays on imdb.com. Oh, and of course we talked about the Pope. Of course the Pope. The head of my Church is dead and as I type there are old men wearing dresse sitting under the Sistine Chapel trying to choose his replacement. A million people are sleeping in the streets of Rome so they don’t lose their places on the line to view his fabulously dressed body. I was hoping the markets would close Friday (like they did for Ronald Reagan) so I’d get the day off work, but that will happen.

But I digress.

I kept quiet for most of the day, just letting my friends talk. Day turned into night and after almost 12 hours of being cooped up in my apartment, I finally coaxed people outside and in the direction of Arturo’s where over fajitas and tacos we talked some more and celebrated, not just my 29th birthday, but the return of spring to Chicago.

In the next flip front: your questions answered! “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” (blame Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume), “Why aren’t you writing?” (I’m afraid of being poor again), “Why is everything you own pink?” (Freud would say it’s something to do with sex), and “What is it that you’re doing that you get out of work at 5:30 pm and don’t get home until 9pm?” (blame Cynthia). Also, voting for Uncle Mike, the Mighty Illini, and why shouldn’t I be the next ruler of Monaco, and sugar?

Cheers,
Jasmine

*songs*
Shelby Lynne – Leavin’; The Roots feat. Jaguar Wright – The Lesson – Part III (It’s Over Now); Joy Division – Sister Ray; The Cure – Lullaby

*links*
http://www.gwenworld.com/2005/04/never-hit-on-voluptuous-woman-with.html
http://www.fametracker.com/fame_audit/king_regina.shtml
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/04/03/movies/03kehr.html
http://insidehighered.com/news/2005/04/06/dawson (thanks, Michael)
http://americawestandasone.com/video.html
http://www.drewmarlowe.com/pictures/brackets.jpg

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~ by Jasmine on April 7, 2005.

One Response to “349: the pope of chili town”

  1. Okay. I clearly need an editor. Among the many mistakes I found in this most recent dispatch, the following stands out most of all:

    I was hoping the markets would close Friday (like they did for Ronald Reagan) so I’d get the day off work, but that will happen.

    Of course, what I meant to say was:

    I was hoping the markets would close Friday (like they did for Ronald Reagan) so I’d get the day off work, but that won’t happen.

    Sheesh. Sorry guys.

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