Archive | Lysette

RSS feed for this section

Is Ronan Farrow Single?

“Is Ronan Farrow single?” my cousin Milagros Schwartz said to me today. “He’s so hot.”

It’s so like Milagros to want to date someone just because he’s Frank Sinatra’s son. You should have seen her when Prince Harry came to town, bribing her way into the Greenwich Polo club and threatening Chris Christie’s secretary.

“You’re such a star fucker,” I told her.

“What about you and Axl?” she said.

“That was completely different,” I said. We were having egg caviar at Jean-Georges but I got up and walked out. It’s a subject I refuse to discuss.

Obviously, I’m sympathetic to anyone who’s celebrity obsessed. What are we worth if we’re without some kind of attachment to fame and fortune? I tried to explain this to my future ex-husband a few minutes ago. He’d just gotten back from visiting Lysette and her new baby in Queens and he was going on and on about how empty he’s been feeling and how he wishes there were more to life than just having money and making money. He missed something so essential – spending money – but I didn’t rub it in his face. You’d think he would have been grateful, but he never even thanked me.

Ever since my meeting with badly-ageing literary agent Elaine Totsky, I admit that I’ve been giving the meaning of existence some thought. I guess being sued for defamation of character is making me doubt myself.

Yes, I’m being sued. It seems that there’s a real person named Melissa Morris out there and she’s upset by my portrayal of her in the detective novels. I don’t know why she’s so bent out of shape. She’s a “Oxfam fundraiser”, whatever that is. You’d think she’d be happy to depicted as something more interesting. Really, people are just selfish. I know there’s only one way out of this mess and it’s to figure out how to mix my Opana and Xanax in the most effective way possible. I will let you know how it goes. All advice is welcome.

in Dalmore, future ex-husband, Literary Agent Elaine Totsky, Lysette | Read full story · | Comments { 0 }

Blue Jasmine

Yesterday, while we were having our Highballs, my future ex-husband said to me, “Jasmine, what if it happened to you? What if you lost everything?”

“Do we have another case of Dalmore, or should you run down to Sherry Lehmann?”

“I’m serious Jasmine,” he said. “Nothing is permanent. Tomorrow you could wake up and discover that everything you had was gone.”

All I can say is, thank goodness Lysette finally went ahead and had her baby. Maybe she’ll finally leave my future ex-husband alone and stop filling his head with arcane ideas. Ever since that horrible night in Queens, he’s unrecognizable – reading books and thinking and talking about the meaning of … oh Shit. I just remembered. We are out of Dalmore.

If you’re curious to know how it all worked out, Sabina is in stable condition but still in a coma ever since she collapsed at the engagement party Elvis and I threw her in July. Really, it’s just a matter of time before Daddy forgets she ever existed and moves on with his life.

All this means I’ll have time to focus on other things, like finally getting together with my badly-ageing literary agent Elaine Totsky. We’ve scheduled two meetings and I’ve missed both of them, but I don’t see how I can be expected to remember her existence at all, what with her refusal to see my plastic surgeon.

“I don’t think your father will forget Sabina,” my future ex-husband says. He’s reading over my shoulder, again. “Elvis is staying with him until she recovers.”

“You mean ‘If’…” I say, ever optimistic.

But I admit that this news comes as a bombshell. Elvis is living with Daddy. How can this be? I never got to live in the same house as Daddy. What’s that little twit have that I haven’t?

“A mother that your father loves,” my future ex-husband offers. He’s insufferable. What I really need to do is somehow get my father out of the country. Technically, I’m not supposed to leave the country, but I’m sure I could get around that with a little help.

Maybe I should plan a ski trip this winter. Those always seem to go so well for our family.

in Dalmore, Elvis, future ex-husband, Jasmine's Father, Literary Agent Elaine Totsky, Lysette, Queens, Sabina | Read full story · | Comments { 1 }

Sycophants and Hostile Doormen

Never fight with your doorman. That’s the lesson I learned today after he let Elvis up to the penthouse.

Yes, you read it right. After weeks of calls and emails and text messages, that little runt managed to get to my front door. I knew what he wanted, which is why I’ve been avoiding him, but then there he was and as he’s only ten I could hardly punch him in the face without risking yet another law suit.

“Your Dad bought the ring!” he said. “They’re officially engaged now!”

“Go away,” I said. “I’m not hungover but I will be soon.”

“Let’s make them a party together!” he said. “We’ll have it here! Your house is so big.”

What a brown-nosing little sycophant.

“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks to pretend this conversation never happened. I’ll give you a thousand if you can break them up.”

“I’ll start buying decorations!” he said, grabbing the C-note. “You can make the invitation list.”

Oddly, the trait of ignoring some questions while answering the ones you expected to be asked is a trait that my father has mastered. Which means my father may like this dreadful person.

“He’s horrible,” I said after I finally got Elvis to leave. “Everything is horrible. How am I going to stop this marriage?”

“The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but the thoughts about the situation,” my future ex-husband said. He was on the couch reading a book, and I think he was actually quoting from it. It was one of the books that Lysette gave him. I think they’re meeting secretly.

“It’s not a secret,” he said, reading this post over my shoulder. “I told you at least a dozen times. Besides, Lysette is pregnant. And what about all your drunken binges with Charles? I never ask you about those.”

Now I’m planning an engagement party for my father and that Kosovan, gold-digging dye-job Sabina. My badly-ageing literary agent Elaine Totsky wants to have a meeting with me – she says she has news. And I still haven’t found a good lawyer to represent me in the murder case. On top of it all, I’m out of Opana. A package was supposed to arrive yesterday, but, as I mentioned, my doorman is currently hostile. What should I buy him? I need my special cocktail now more than ever – All advice is welcome.

in Charles Cornelius Endicott IV, Elvis, future ex-husband, Jasmine's Father, Literary Agent Elaine Totsky, Lysette, Myron Xavier Schwartz., Sabina | Read full story · | Comments { 2 }

Marrying and Divorcing Rich – and my guest post for M.J. Kane

As my readers know, amateur sleuth Melissa Morris is based on a real person – an old girlfriend of mine named Lysette. She used to do some work for the Mossad until she got tired of seducing Syrian businessmen in cheap East European hotels. She drifted for years. I urged her to give up and marry rich, but Lysette made the too-common error of ignoring my advice and now she’s living in Queens.

It’s a real shame because, like any attractive woman, Lysette could have married and divorced someone wealthy by now. Instead she has to work for a living, as a social worker no less, and she’s a vegan. It’s a tragedy, no matter how you look at it…

Read more of this guest post on M.J. Kane’s website. M.J. Kane? She’s a stay-at-home mom turned Amazon bestseller. Her words inspire, encourage and bring hope, so really, we have very little in common. Still, hop on over and check her out…

in Charles Cornelius Endicott IV, Crime Fiction, Dalmore, Lysette, Mossad, Myron Xavier Schwartz. | Read full story · | Comments { 0 }

Blog Hopping in the USA

The talented JD Chase has asked me to participate in a Blog Hop, which is a little like wife swapping without the keys, sex and suburbia. Thank you, JD and good luck with Hunting Lust, a “contemporary romance with mild erotica”.

What is the title of your book?
Speaking of sex… The title of the second novel in my detective series is Fakakt: Melissa Morris and the Meaning of Sex

Where did the idea come from for the book?
Amateur sleuth Melissa Morris is based on my friend Lysette who used to work for the Mossad until she got tired of seducing Syrian businessmen in cheap East European Hotels. She now works as a social worker and one day I thought to myself, what if, instead of working with abused children, Lysette found dead bodies and solved crimes?

What is the genre of the book?
Mystery – Chick-lit

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
Christian Bale has already agreed to do it in drag.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
Melissa Morris chases her cheating boyfriend to Rome. While trying to track him down, she’s arrested for the murder of a Romanian businessman. She sets out to find the real killer, discovering an underside to Rome and herself that she never imagined.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
I’ve just taken my second dose of Opana. Who can remember?

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
People have compared me to Marian Keyes and Donald Trump

Who or what inspired you to write this book?
Did I mention that Sabina’s son, Elvis called me yesterday? What does he want? Isn’t enough that his skanky platinum blond dye-job of a mother roped my father into getting engaged? Some people ask why bad things happen to good people, but that’s really the wrong question. The correct question is, why aren’t things going better for Jasmine? What’s wrong with the world?

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
My future ex-husband has started to read books, which I find odd. But if, like him, you do actually read, then go ahead and pick up a copy. It just came out in paperback.

Thanks again JD and happy hopping…

in future ex-husband, Jasmine's Father, Lysette, Mossad, Sabina | Read full story · | Comments { 0 }

Blottoed and Vera Wang

Vera Wang

Whenever Daddy mentions his wedding to Sabina, I scream at the top of my lungs, stick my fingers in my ears and shut my eyes so tight I feel like hurling, which I don’t. As my readers know, tragically, I’m not one of those women who hurls easily.

But back to Daddy’s wedding. While the screaming etc. is a correct expression of my feelings, it leaves me somewhat uninformed about their wedding plans. So imagine my surprise when my cousin Milagros Schwartz called me yesterday. I haven’t heard from her since we were both questioned by the police a few weeks ago. She said just been at the Carlyle having her weekly joy ride [her words] with her Kama trainer when she spotted Sabina going into Vera Wang with her son Elvis.

Oh, gentle readers. Is it to much to ask that the universe align itself with my desires alone? Is it wrong to despise and resent a presumptuous skank who has my father wrapped around her Sakura calgel manicured fingernails?

“Like Anne Boleyn,” says my future ex-husband, reading over my shoulder.

“Like who?”

“Lysette recommended this book to me,” he says, showing me a book that looks like a cross between a Bible and the Danielle Steel novels my mother used to read instead of paying attention to me.

“You’re reading again?”

As you know, he’s become a little obsessed with Lysette since that awful night in Queens.

“You’re writing books,” he reminds me.

That does ring a bell. And before I get too wrecked by tomorrow nights festivities, let me share this news. Two of the paperbacks of my first novel will be given away, somehow, somewhere. You can click on the thingie if you, like my future ex-husband, are reading.

Happy New Year’s, my darlings. May it be a year that indulges and provides, glorifies and sates, and preserves the privilege and fortune of those who already have it. For the rest of you, I will love you just the same once I’m completely blottoed.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Farbissen by Jasmine Schwartz

Farbissen

by Jasmine Schwartz

Giveaway ends February 08, 2013.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

in Elvis, future ex-husband, Jasmine's Father, Lysette, Sabina | Read full story · | Comments { 2 }

OBAMA, OPANA AND MOI

Now that the storm has past and the lights are back on, now that the poor people have kept their president, now that China’s Politburo have elected Xi Jinping as their leader at last, I think it’s high time we bring the focus back to Jasmine.

Yet everywhere I turn, someone is trying to obstruct this deserving cause. Mark Moelim, my interior designer, pestered me with his boyfriend troubles earlier today.

MM: Jonathan wants to be exclusive Jasmine, but I’m not sure that I’m ready. I really love him. What should I do?

JS: How about getting the Travertine wall tiles installed in the en suite bedroom? I bet that would make you feel a whole lot better.

That’s right readers, you’re not hallucinating. Mark hasn’t finished the bedroom yet. And he’s bitching to me?

MM: Jasmine, I know you don’t like gay men, but I need a friend right now. Can you pass me the Remy Martin?

JS: I don’t not dislike gay men, Mark. I just wish you’d stop being such a precious little drama queen and focus on your job.

Mark shook his head, drained his balloon snifter and got up to leave. If only he’d done just that, instead of turning around and adding this:

MM: Just be honest for once in your life, Jasmine. The reason you don’t like gay men is because of your…

JS: Shut up Mark.

I had no better luck with my future ex-husband. He’s been acting strange lately, and you’d think it’s because of that admittedly sexy socialist winning the White House again. But no. He’s been this way ever since that night at Lysette’s.

FEXH: Sometimes I just wonder what we’re doing, Jasmine. That’s all. Is that so wrong?

JS: It’s obscene. And why aren’t you dressed? We’re already late for Jean Georges.

FEXH: Did you ever think about having a baby?

JS: Fine, I’ll call the car service. Just be ready in five minutes.

I tell you, sometimes it’s like I’m talking to a wall. If only the wall had a mirror, and was pouring drinks, then at least everything might not be so intolerable.

In other news, my “doctor” gave me a prescription for Opana. I’ll let you know how it goes.

in future ex-husband, Gay Men, Jasmine Schwartz, Lysette, Mark, Renovation | Read full story · | Comments { 0 }

50 Shades of Oy Vey

My mother called me yesterday. As always, when she aggravates me, I want to post about it here.

Here’s why:

Mother In Palm Beach:He’s going to marry that Russian, isn’t he?
JS: She’s Kosovan.
MIPB: I always hated those Russians. They completely ruined Brighton Beach.
JS: You’ve never been to Brooklyn
MIPB: That’s a filthy lie, Jasmine. You’ve always taken his slide.
JS: It’s not even eleven o’clock mother. How can you be drinking already?
MIPB: Don’t pretend you don’t have a Hendricks in your hand right now.

(Silence of Admission.)

MIPB: I was a good wife. I didn’t do everything he wanted, but I stayed skinny. How was I supposed to know what he was into?
JS: Mother, I don’t want to hear…
MIPB: He just seemed like your typical finance asshole when we met. I thought the masks were part of an old Halloween costume.
JS: Mother please!
MIPB: Not that he ever satisfied me either. You think just once he’d asked what the straps were for.
JS: Could we please focus, here Mother? How are we going to stop this wedding?

Mark: Maybe they really love each other.

This last helpful comment came from Mark Mualam, my errant interior designer, who was in the kitchen taking measurements.

JS: How about finishing the bedroom before you share your pearls of wisdom?
MIPB: Who is that? He sounds just like…
JS: Shut up, mother. You know I never speak about him. And let’s get back to the wedding. What are we going to do?
MIPB: I got my settlement darling. You’re on your own.

Click

My future ex-husband: What if Mark is right? What if they do love each other?

Did I mention that my future ex-husband has been behaving bizarre ever since the night we went to Lysette’s house in Queens? As if I didn’t have enough to worry about. I swear I must be the only sane person in this entire penthouse, including Pavel, who’s installing the Novellini shower door in the en suite bathroom.

On another subject: As my readers know, I don’t like to call attention to other women. However, these two ladies had the same idea as I did and posted their two cents under the title “50 Shades of Oy Vey”. Anyone who thinks likes Jasmine is doing something right.

Abbey Prentice – Writer and blogger and sadly for her, a mother – really, really hated the S&M books and says they are “not worth the paper they’re printed on”.

Pink Lady Lindsley, also a writer, sounds like she has a really hot sex life herself. Alas, she found the sex scenes boring and prefers 9 1/2 weeks for getting libidinous. Jasmine hasn’t read the books but generally endorse anything erotic, so long as it doesn’t make me feel old.

in future ex-husband, Gay Men, Jasmine Schwartz, Jasmine's Father, Jasmine's Mother, Lysette, Mark, Queens, Renovation, Sabina | Read full story · | Comments { 0 }

$2000 LATER AND I STILL NEED A VALIUM

What the hell is Prana breathing anyway? The Mandarin detox was pretty good, up to a point, and then suddenly Dario started telling me how to breathe while he was stimulating my lymph nodes. Then he made me drink this revolting green-colored juice which made me want to puke, but unfortunately, I think I mentioned that I’m not one of those women who easily hurls her food. My stomach was shot the entire day. $2000 later and I still need valium.

You’re probably wondering how this all started.

Actually I’m having some trouble remembering myself.

Oh yes. It’s coming back to me. I had a hangover. A really bad one. If you recall, we were invited to dinner at Lysette‘s, my old friend who used to work for the Mossad. I based my detective character on her. I think I already mentioned that.

Lysette lives in some place called Kew Gardens. We took a taxi over, stopping for drinks on the way, and by the time we got there, we were an hour late, which shouldn’t be such a big deal, but you can tell from the look on Lysette’s ethnic boyfriend’s face, it was.

So it was pretty much a disaster from start to finish. My future ex-husband, through no fault of his own, can’t really handle being around poor people. He got completely soused on the Dalmore we bought with us and before too long he was making his usual drunken racist comments. Santiago, surprise surprise, doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, and sometime after the ‘entrée’ was served, they were yelling at each other and talking about current events. In her sad, little kitchen Lysette revealed to me that she was pregnant after years of trying. As my readers know, when people tell me about their fertility woes, I usually say a little prayer for them that they won’t get pregnant, because no one really understands the extent to which children make you unhappy. But with Lysette, it was too late, and she was so excited about having a baby that all I could do was listen and pretend she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

I can’t emphasize enough that going to Queens was probably one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made, or at least, the biggest one of the summer. But the summer is ending, and I’m hoping for a respite from all the drama this fall. Let’s all say a little prayer for Jasmine.

in Dalmore, future ex-husband, Kew Gardens, Lysette, Manhattan, Mossad, Queens, Uncategorized, Valium | Read full story · | Comments { 9 }

MY FATHER IS MARRYING HIS DENTAL HYGEINIST AND OTHER BAD NEWS

Yes, it’s true. My father is remarrying. I literally can’t believe it. I cried and I screamed and I threatened, but he won’t listen to reason. The bitch who’s manipulating him into this atrocious act is a dental hygienist named Sabina. Her ten-year-old son is called – I’m not kidding – Elvis. I can’t even focus on vetting the publicity team my publisher is putting together to promote my book. It’s so like Daddy to ruin everything for me.

“You’ll always be my little girl,” he told me when I tried to convince him that Sabina was an objectionable, East European skank. That’s well and fine for him to say, but where does that leave me when he dies? Did you know, that even if he wanted to, he can’t disinherit the faux redhead cow under New York law once they get married? Isn’t that insane? I am frantically looking into other state laws on the subject, in the hopes of convincing them to move. My only other option, of course, is to stop the wedding.

My future ex-husband is looking over my shoulder and informs me that I can’t write that I “literally” can’t believe something that I know to be true. He’s such an asshole sometimes. He’s lucky that he drives a Cabriolet.

And worst of all? Tonight we have to go to Lysette’s house in some place called Kew Gardens. She said she’s written some poetry, and she’d like to show me some now that I’m a writer. She asked us not to bring wine because her boyfriend is a recovering alcoholic. And they’re vegetarian. I can’t even muster up the energy to be sarcastic about tonight. Please pray for me.

in Cabriolet, Elvis, future ex-husband, Jasmine Schwartz, Jasmine's Father, Kew Gardens, Lysette, Queens, Sabina | Read full story · | Comments { 0 }