375: jam out with your clam out

Quick note: I didn’t spell check or edit for grammar. Why? ‘Cos I’m sleepy.

10/21: makeup for making with the sexy-sexy, or (with many apologies to Wilco) “I am trying to suck your c*ck”

I took Jacinda and Molly to a party. I didn’t really know the girl for whom the party was being thrown. The important thing is that there would be a keg and maybe even cute boys so we arrived, girly beer in hand, at Tim’s Wicker Park apartment ready to be all cute and whatever.

It was like a lot of parties I attended in college and in those years right after graduation. Indie boys with messy hair, indie girls in vintage accessories and too-tight sweaters worn with tight jeans and battered high heels. All the girls were short and wore short elfin haircuts and spoke in high pitched voices. I was interested in the folks who looked a bit, well, older, so I spent most of the evening talking to the people I came with or already knew. And Mike, Tim’s cute pal from bagpiping. He was very funny. Molly made friends with a girl named Inky, and we gave her a ride home.

Whenever I go to a party, I always say I’m gonna do inappropriate things like make out with boys in the coat room and smoke everybody else’s cigarettes. This kind of behavior requires war paint. Before I go out, I apply copious amounts of lip gloss, put on some big flashy earrings, bare the cleavage, and then what? Nothing. Why? ‘Cos I’m a sucker. But I’m a sucker who never learns with a seemingly endless supply of makeup. For you makeup junkies, below is what I would consider a tasteful yet slutty look. I’d love it if somebody — Stef, I’m looking at you — to do this face and let me know how you do. If you don’t have the same exact products, I’ve included descriptions for you to replicate with your own stash.

    NARS blush in Deep Throat (shimmery apricot-gold) on cheeks, NARS blush in Lovejoy (pale rose) just underneath and in hollows of cheeks (apply sparingly!)

    NARS lipstick in Dolce Vita (creamy medium pink)

    NARS lip gloss in Orgasm (shimmery peach — dabbed in center of bottom lip)

    NARS eye shadow duo in Charade (just the rosy shade, all over lid)

    black eye liner (very thin, outer corner only, winged out a bit so you look vaguely Asian or merely retro)

    mascara as you prefer (and I like Paul & Joe — don’t forget to curl your lashes before you apply!)

10/22: hello, sailor?

While I waited for Jacinda to pick me up for a midnight showing of “Ghostbusters” at the Music Box, I watched a new episode of “Degrassi” (Liberty is knocked up! Manny is still a ho!) and game 1 of the world series, ate dinner, applied the makeup described above. My hair was still very straight, which was amazing considering what I had subjected it to — the aforementioned party, an early morning spent interviewing kids for DMSF scholarships, hanging out with Tasneem and then Christine downtown. Molly decided not to come out after all, so it was just me and Jacinda in her new car, just like old times. Only we don’t really smoke anymore, so there was no stopping to get cigarettes or beef jerky at a gas station before the show. No cigarettes to flick out a rolled-down window.

We were a bit early for the movie, so we did what we always do: we window shopped at the fancy boutiques down the street from the theater. Baby outfits like fleece jumpsuits that cost more than the last four pairs of pants I bought. These were rather hard to resist, as Joe’s sister had just give birth to his and Jacinda’s very own niece the night before (11.5 lbs! It’s a girl! Her name is Mara! You can see pics at http://www.booperwatch.com!), so naturally we pictured the baby in every single piece of clothing in the window. Then up a few doors to make fun of and covet some seriously ugly yet expensive shoes. Just as we were about to go in, we literally stumbled into a former co-worker who drunkenly assured me that I always thought I was hot. Um, gee. Thanks. Coming from you in your sleazy drunkenness, that means a lot. Ass.

Occupied with various party-related errands on 10/23 and 10/24 — buying streamers and decorations at the Card & Party Giant, letting Molly talk me out of buying a fog machine at Target, stocking up on frozen pizza at Cub. I watched game 4 of the World Series (10/26) at the United Center with Jacalyn and Sarah. We had excellent seats, salty snacks, and beer (I had a diet Coke). Popcorn flew and mascara ran when the Sox won, and Jacalyn basically floated home on the blue line. I decided to stop at Arturo’s on the walk home from the el — an occasion such as an 88 year long dry spell being broken called for a horchata and some tacos al pastor.

10/28: ain’t no party like a hyde park party ‘cos a hyde park party don’t . . . start

Jacalyn and Sarah took the following Friday off for the parade. Cynthia and I checked it out at lunch, but all I got a good shot of were the fools watching the parade from atop the port-o-johns on Monroe and LaSalle. I worked worked worked all afternoon, then Thom picked me up for our date. It was a very U of C fab evening — dinner at the Reynolds Club, then Rufus Wainwright at Mandel Hall. I’ve never seen this particular Ru before (only RuPaul at too many Wigstocks to count) so I was very excited about this gig. Rufus was very relaxed, fudging lyrics and whatnot with goofy charm. The room was full of swooning boys and their attendant fag hags, myself included. A few notes:

  1. To clarify something I said in the teaser, the night of the show, during intermission, I saw the first guy I ever, um, entertained in my boudoir (read: dorm room) first year of College. Didn’t realize it until I walked past him and was all “Oh, that was M.”
  2. Cute young queens pranced about the front rows before Rufus came on, and then again during intermission. They were all skinny and wearing tight pants. You could tell that they were, like, *the* gays on campus that everybody knows. The guys you reference when you want to prove that you’re not homophobic because you count of them as your friend when really you have Rocks for Jocks with them. One of the young queens was, like, the other African-American guy at the show apart from Thom. The show was very much lacking in flava, otherwise — sorry, kids, but the earnest idie rock Asian girls in the room (myself excluded, natch) didn’t do much in that regard. Dude, stop looking at me like that — you know I’m right.
  3. Had the following exchange via text message with Jacinda;

    Jasmine’s phone: Why am I seeing a girl wearing an off the shoulder top with a sleeveless hooded shirt?

    Jacinda’s phone: No excuses. Like the jeans.

  4. Backtrack: On 10/27, I went to a show at Jacinda’s gallery, her last before she quit to go back to school (yay!). I stood around with a bunch of hipsters, got kinda self-conscious when I noticed that, once again, I was the only non-Whitey in the room. I gulped my seltzer, then went to a Time Out/CB2 shopping party. Not that I had any money to shop for overpriced gew gaws, but I wanted to see if the goody bags were any good.

    They weren’t.

  5. Thom was a gentleman and drove me home. I was happy to call it an early night though if somebody had suggested a few pitchers and a few hours ogling cute undergrads at Jimmy’s, I would not have said no.

10/29: the vampire song

The costume party was fucking AWESOME. I don’t feel the need to recap, but I do want to thank the following people for their assistance:

    Rozi & Andrew (Andrew was just back from Japan with presents for me me
    me)
    Joe & Jacinda (aka Kurt & Courtney)
    Kathy (aka Cleopatra)
    Adrienne (aka Sam Walton)
    Sarah

Pictures are in my flickr photostream at http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasmine/sets/1243783/. I’m trying to get a viable link to Adrienne’s pictures for y’all to check out.

Other guests include (but are not limited to):

    Will (Che Guevara) & Robin
    Rob & Holly (I think they were regular ghouls, with Holly sporting a
    super mod white wig)
    Thom (Malcolm x.)
    Mike (Terri Schiavo)
    Gabe (Michael Kennedy)
    Kevin (Jimmy Hoffa)
    some guy who’s name I don’t remember (Sonny Bono)
    Dan (fiendish looking creaure with pasty white makeup)
    Sean (no costume but very cute Halloween tee shirt)
    Sarah (no costume but she was wearing a really cute Red Wings tee)

10/30: I took the day off and lay about.

10/31: I got a flu shot at work. And guess what? I got a Daffy Duck bandage to cover my wound. After work, met Molly, her brother-in-law Tajes (sp?), and Ian at the Charleston for drinks. Tajes and Ian were in town for a conference and were wanting to sample some good food. So we let them take us to Cafe Bolero for ropa vieja, pork chops, goat, and flan flan flan flan flan. I felt a bit sick from the sugar, but very happy. Tajes and Ian are very nice, and silly not a little bit. This proved to be excellent for the next night (11/1) when a 75 minute wait for a table at Frontera proved to be too much, so we hiked over to Cafe Iberico for goat cheese, chorizo, pulpos, camarones, queso de cabra, jamon iberico, salmon, croquetas de pollo, champinones, pincho de solomillo, raxo adobado, morcilla, almejas, bizcoho, peras al vino, flan, and beer. Of course, I drink San Miguel, as I must always be representin’ for the homeland.

Given this eating, it should come as no surprise that I finally hit the wall Wednesday (11/2) night. I hadn’t been to the pharmacy, so I was off three of my five meds. I’d eaten too much sugar over the past five daysl. And I was tired. I was at Target, meds in hand, when I reached up to replace a gift basket of shower gels I had been ogling when I stumbled a bit and dropped the basket on the floor. This was totally my cue to pay up and get home. Molly tells me I missed a good time — she met Ira Glass, who’s really cute in an NPR sort of way, then took the boys out to Piece for their last Chicago dinner. I lay on the couch in my new feels-like-satin-but-is-actually-polyster pajamas, watching “Mansfield Park” and trying to channel Nora Charles. I think I managed a pretty decent Rizzo from “Grease” impersonation. Okay, that last sentence should tell you all that it’s time for us to go to bed, and pick this up another day.

Cheers,
Jasmine

PS: Jacalyn has just celebrated her one year work anniversary. Hurrah!

PPS: As I type, my mom is halfway to the Philippines on Korean Airlines flight KE 082, landing at Incheon tomorrow (Friday) at 17:10 local time. As far as I know, Mum doesn’t fear flying the way Dad does, but feel free to say a rosary or something.

PPPS: Stef once told me that if I wanted to boost my confidence that I should look in the mirror everyday and tell my reflection how hot I am. Vain as I am, I can barely stand to do this. Though Stef is right about how it could help me. And didn’t my personal patron saint of romantic angst, Mary J. Blige, once ask “How can I love somebody else if I can’t love myself enough . . .?” Granted, I took this out of context but whatever. Mary always helps, as does Stef. And I think we could all benefit if we printed out the following, stuck it to our bathroom mirrors, and read it while we brushed our teeth at night before we go to sleep:

Jasmine–glad to see that it occurs to you to self-affirm at all when looking in the mirror, thanks to me! I don’t always feel like it, either, so I have had to make stuff up. We had discussed at a previous time the application of excessive eyeshadow-usually of the trampy variant, common to those multi-color sets that have like four kick ass colors and one that you know you will never touch. For example, a good pick me up before you go to bed: apply the leftover black/navy blue/maroon color to the whole lid (like the models do in those magazines–which brings me to the eternal question of whether fashion shows–like makeup ads– are really about the advertisement of stuff people will actually buy/wear/use, or just terrible euro-trash performance art/conspicuous consumption opportunities for the stars who attend/use). Then after thoroughly enjoying this completely non-permanent addition to your face, apply like coverup or white out as lipstick–or any of those really light colors that we think will look trendy and *nude* or *earthy* in the tube but really make us look like corpses. Then, slick your hair completely off your face. Then mess it up violently. Then recite out loud how you started in the modeling business, and how you eat whatever you want. Then talk about how you really don’t date all that much, since you work a lot. Then switch perspective, and do a voice-over, as if you are the photographer that first discovered you, and how “the first time I photographed Jasmine, I hardly had to tell her to do anything. She has a natural relationship with the camera….her eyes are like their own world…and she just comes alive. In fact, we usually don’t shoot her with make-up on at all. We don’t have to. Except for this ad campaign, which will definitely put her on the map. Which would be nice, since we only had the cover of vogue once last year.” If you don’t feel completely transcendent after this, call me. Oh, and I recommend clinique eye makeup remover:)

*songs*
Massive Attack – Be Thankful for What You’ve Got; The Velvet Underground – After Hours (every time I hear this song I think of second year in college and smoking Camel Wides in front of Cobb before Soc); Boogie Down Productions – Poetry; Roxy Music – To Turn You On; Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five – Superrappin’; ABBA – Gimme! Gimme Gimme! (A Man After Midnight); Madonna – Hung Up (Radio Edit); Rufus Wainwright – April Fools; Rufus Wainwright – Beauty Mark

*links*
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/23/fashion/sundaystyles/23LOVE.html
http://news.yahoo.com/s/adweek/20051017/ad_bpiaw/shoptalkfearloathingandfastfood
http://www.crossroadsfund.org/events.html
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/chicago/chi-0511020008nov02,1,362105.story

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~ by Jasmine on November 4, 2005.

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