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Hi. I'm Jaime

Find joy in the little things. Travel when possible. Pet all the dogs. Use hyperbole and curse words prodigiously. Write it down. Always ask about hot sauce.

Currently - 8.29.18

Currently - 8.29.18

To Watch: Big Mouth

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Wanna hear a secret?

I'm not funny. People think I am, but I've basically just co-opted a bunch of shit from Archer and Nick Kroll and passed it off as my own.

Which is why you'll probably be hearing me quoting the new Netflix animated series Big Mouth for the next five years. 

Remember puberty? I do!

I had breasts when I was 10!
I had big frizzy hair and glasses and pimples!
I was (and remain) super short!
I moved to the States when I was 11 and it was even more traumatizing because middle school girls are emotional terrorists who will totally pick on you for having an "funny" accent!

Nick Kroll, John Mulaney, Jason Manzoukas (Rafi. His name is fucking Rafi and it will always be Rafi), Jenny Slate and every other comedian you love provides voice talent.

Six of the ten episodes were written or co-written by some brilliantly funny women.

Oh and there's a Hormone Monster named Maurice and a Hormone Monstress named Connie who says, "This is what women do. We suck up all the bullshit life dumps up on us and keep smiling through it all in our boxy-ass dresses."

Capital T truth, y'all.

Look. Vulture reviews it way better than I could, so steal your sister's Netflix password, binge-watch it and be thankful - Oh God, SO thankful - that you're not going through puberty anymore because while adulthood sucks, puberty is the goddamn pits. 

To Eat: Eggs

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Sunny side up (preferably with crispy edges, Frank Prisinzano style) on a biscuit.
Or on a refried-bean smeared tortilla with avocado, pico de gallo and liberal splashes of hot sauce.
Or an egg salad sandwich on toasted rye with butter lettuce and red onions
Or deviled eggs with curry power and chives or chipotle mayo.
Or scrambled eggs with onions, peppers and cheese with a shitload of hash browns and buttered multigrain toast. And ketchup. Because I'm that person. 
Or an omelette with lots of peas and parsley. 
Or a thick slice of tortilla Espanola with smoked paprika aioli. 

Eggs are a perfect food and we all need to eat them more often. 

Unless they're poached or soft-scrambled. Ugh. Even the words "loose soft curds" are disgusting. 

To Read: 

Where Walmart Won't Even Go: How Dollar General Took Over Rural America - Publix is omnipresent in Florida. So much so that there's a website which lets you know if chicken tender subs are on sale (at the time of this writing - no). But if you live in Pahokee, Florida - the closest Publix is a 41 mile drive away in Loxahatchee. They do, however, have a Dollar General on Main Street. This is becoming more and more common for rural communities across America. The article is an interesting look at the changing American landscape, food deserts and capitalism. 

To Visit: New Orleans

What happened at the New Wil'ins?

New Orleans is the girlfriend you can’t keep up with.

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She’s a holy trinity of French, Cajun and Creole. Eclectic and electric and awake and always singing. Her voices rumbles like a street car, whispers like a barely-perceptible breeze through boughs of oak and it wails like brass horns during a summer storm. 

And she tastes so good. What is that taste? It’s like seventeen flavors hitting your tongue at once. Spices fresh arrived from the Silk Road, alien seafood and I don’t know what the hell chicory is but fill up my cup. 

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But you can’t keep up.

Stay up.
Take it straight up
Turn up.
Wake up the next morning without feeling like you’re gonna throw up. 

So you break up. 

She isn’t the one who got away. 

She didn’t leave. You did.

She stayed. She played. She loved you. 

Post-NOLA, life is muted. Is it even really life or is it getting through one day and then, the other and then another? 

The Crescent City haunts you. Like the priest in the alleyway who haunts the rain or Julie of Royal Street

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So, you go back. 

She hasn’t been waiting. Of course not - life to be lived, not endured. 

Besides, she didn’t come to play with you hos. She came to slay, bitch.

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Upon your return, she’ll embrace you tight and tell you that she missed you. It’s warm and damp. All drowsy heat and magnolia sweet. 

You know you can’t stay. That your time together must be temporary because you aren’t sure if your soul is equipped to survive this much fever dream euphoria. 

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But that’s OK. 

Because you know you can always come back and when you do - 

New Orleans will be there for you - calling you ‘baby’ with a plate waiting. 

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Babies - God Damn It, You've Got To Be Kind

Babies - God Damn It, You've Got To Be Kind

Who I Used To Be Versus Who I Am Now

Who I Used To Be Versus Who I Am Now