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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 }

Phineas, Ferb, Sex and Kim Kardashian

You’d be surprised to learn how many people are doing internet searches for ‘Phineas, Ferb and Sex‘. Until my cousin Milagros Schwartz enlightened me, I didn’t even know who Phineas and Ferb were, and now it’s the main reason people are coming to my website, aside from the murder charge.

“They haven’t charged you.”

This from my future ex-husband, who, once again, is reading over my shoulder.

“Yet,” he adds.

Kim Kardashian was the most internet-searched-for women in 2012. I know Kim through mutual friends, and she’s furious about the popularity of Phineas and Ferb. Personally, I don’t really care, as I just took my Opana with that touch of Xanax and am feeling it all over. You’d be surprised to learn how many people are doing internet searches for ‘Phineas, Ferb and Sex‘.

Did I tell you that Elvis keeps calling me? He’s the ten-year-old son of Sabina, the Russian who thinks she’s marrying my father.

“She’s Kosovan,” says my future ex-husband.

“Don’t you ever go to work?” I say.

The wedding is getting close and I’m considering doing the unthinkable. I just don’t understand it, readers. Isn’t it enough for daddy to have the perfect daughter in every way? Isn’t enough that I’m thin and marrying wealthy? I even wrote two novels for him, but did he even call me to say he was proud?

“Jasmine,” says my future ex-husband. “Sometimes you just have to accept things the way they are.”

This is the kind of drivel he says now, ever since that night in Queens. I would dump him, but the cocktail always makes me a little sleepy, and also, we have reservations tonight.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s just go to Jean Georges.”

You see. Sometimes he still says the right thing.

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

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 }

I’M SO HUNGOVER I COULD EAT BREAD

If I see one more four-year-old at Balthazar while I’m trying to drink my bloody mary, I swear I will kill them. I’m so hungover I could eat bread. I’m crabby and irritable and if you want to sue me, go ahead. My future ex-husband has a law degree from Duke and he loves confronting idiots. Good luck to you.

Remember when you could not like certain kinds of people and no one cared? While we were having brunch today, I was complaining about our evening in Queens, which I’ll get to in a future post, and then started bitching about our errant interior designer, Mark Mooalem. Everything was going fine, and our friends laughed at the appropriate moments and felt really bad for me. Then I used a certain word to describe Mark and… Bam! The bonhomie was over. Everyone at the table gave me dirty looks like I’d murdered a puppy. The waiter started crying. The couple at the next table complained to Hadassah, the skinny blond Hostess, who I know from when I used to work in the business.

My future ex-husband quickly dropped a few hundred dollars on the table and shoved me out the door. He’s hoping that with some hats and sunglasses we’ll be able to go back next week, but I bet that bitch Hadassah has just been waiting for an excuse to blacklist me.

Everyone in this city is so sensitive. It makes me want to puke. If only I could. It’s a skill I never mastered.

Well, I’m off to the Mandarin now because my mother swears by their 24-hour detox. And since it’s summer, tomorrow we’re headed to my future ex’s place on Meadow Lane. See you there, darlings.

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

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 }

NOW I HAVE TO GO TO QUEENS

When I tell people about my novel, they’re curious to know if I based my character on a real person. I suppose it’s time to reveal that amateur sleuth Melissa Morris is based on a friend I used to know. I think I mentioned her in a previous post. She used to work for the Mossad.

After leaving the job, Lysette drifted, taking work no respectable person should ever consider. She was a secretary, a sales assistant, an ESL teacher and an archivist in a cruddy, dark basement in Queens where she had to drink instant coffee and microwave her lunches. Eventually she trained to be a social worker. Really, it was a nightmare to be her friend. Obviously, we lost touch.

So when it came time to write a novel, I thought, what if, instead of working with abused children, Lysette found dead bodies and solved crimes? This is the kind of stuff you have to think about when you’re a writer. You have to ask that really good ‘what if’ question. You have to put normal people in extraordinary situations. You have to sit down and write after drinking at least two gin and tonics. Most writing teachers will tell you that.

Oh yeah – did I mention my novel sold? My future ex-husband was so right. Four different publishers were bidding for it by the end of last week. My badly aging agent, Elaine Totsky, closed the deal yesterday. This industry moves so fast that it’s dizzying.

So back to Lysette. I called her to tell her that I based my detective character on her, and do you know what she did? She invited us for dinner. Now I have to go to Queens. What a nightmare.

in Lysette, Mossad, Queens | Read full story · | Comments { 2 }