376:in stitches

1. television for suckers (11/4/05 — Kim’s bithday)

You know what’s a bad idea? Watching a Lifetime mini-series about the trafficking of sex workers by yourself. Friday night, Molly came home to find me sitting on the couch, tears in my eyes, as I watched a hooker turned federal witness get shot by a sniper when she stepped out onto the balcony of her safe house. Molly liked my idea of going to see a happy movie to cheer me up, so we walked up the street to the neighborhood theater and watched Prime. More than I liked the beautiful apartments — Uma’s airy modern space on lower Fifth Avenue, Meryl’s labyrinthine Upper West Side apartment — and the hotness of Bryan Greenberg, I really liked the soundtrack. I mean, whoever put it together must be my musical twin — Junior Mafia’s “Get Money” and Rufus Wainwright’s “Peach Trees” on the same record? Fucking genius.

2. small kitty, big happy (11/5/05)

Molly and I bailed on our plan to go to the Mutiny for *morning* Karaoke (every Saturday from 9am to 12pm). Instead we checked out the DIY Trunk Show — she volunteered while I collected cards and wondered if Jacinda would like to have a pair of rubber gloves edged with cowboy print calico. Lots of cute stuff being picked over by appropriately adorable hipster couples and the odd gaggle of Trixies. One question, though — what is it with these entrepreneurs and cats? From the names of the business that sold everything from jewelry to erotic underpants, you would think these ladies (and a few gents) were cats themselves. Evil Kitty (women’s clothing), Smitten Kitten (jewelry), Bad Kitten Soaps. There were also Shawnimals, Crafty Dog Design, Dollybird Designs, Featherproof Books, Pett Projects, Pixie Rolls, and Undercover Penguins.

If I started my own business, I’d weld spittoons in the shape of wee teddy bears. I’d crochet soft yarn bags that hold your knitting and your nunchucks. The name wouldn’t be a word but that sound that girls make when they see something they want. Like, the squeal you make upon viewing a puggle, and not the lusty shout when coming across pictures of Jake Gyllenhaal’s naked arse in “Jarhead”.

After the show, I went to Hello Kitty’s birthday party, tried on some lipstick, then went home for a night of movies and baking with Molly.

3. twenty-one questions. or not. (11/8/05)

I was just thinking — do you know anyone who still uses an answering machine? I mean, is there anybody left who doesn’t use voicemail? I don’t think so, but they’re all over tv and movies, where they seem to exist just to play messages for people who shouldn’t have been listening to those messages in the first place.

This week’s episode of Rome — it wasn’t sex-tastic like recent eps have been, but it was still pretty good.

Yesterday, I had lunch at Rick Bayless’ new venture, the Frontera Fresco counter at Marshall Field’s. I won’t bore you with the details. For once.

PS: Molly and I were thinking of going out dancing. Suggestions, anybody?

VHS or Beta – Night On Fire; Junior M.A.F.I.A. – Get Money; The Smiths – The Headmaster Ritual; Styx – Lady

Obama-rama on The Daily Show (Chicago Tribune)
Jake Gyllenhaal’s rocks out with his cock out ( A Socialite’s Life)
A valuable weight-loss tip from from Kirstie Alley (Perez Hilton)


~ by Jasmine on November 9, 2005.

One Response to “376:in stitches”

  1. My boyfriend and his roommate use an answering machine.

    I know. It’s crazy.



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