Aperol Schpritz.

It is no secret that me likey the happy juice (in moderation of course). Unfortunately my libation selection has stayed limited to dirty martinis (blue cheese olives please), pinot noir and beer (#bluecollar #relatable). Instead of dedicating my time to evoking change in other aspects of my life-like working on my general lack of sensitivity both emotionally and socially or learning a new language or how to properly recycle (too many fucking bins)I have focused on finding myself a new summer beverage. A drink that is easy to make, won’t give me love handles and keeps me just likeably pretentious. After putting my liver to the grindstone, planning a summer trip to Italy, micromanaging 18 different bartenders and shoplifting some organic rosemary from a nearby Whole Foods – I give you my tried and true recipe for the Aperol Spritz I was drinking on this weeks podcast… alone.

Here’s what you need

  • 1 oz of Aperol
  • Prosecco
  • Sparkling water (I use Pellegrino or La Croix)
  • Dash of vodka (cause why the fuck not)
  • Fresh slices of orange
  • Sprig of rosemary (SO necessary)

Pour everything over ice, preferably in a cute wine glass with a straw and enjoy! This is perfect to make when it’s hott as fuck out and your tits are sweating but you still seem very chic and cultured cause you’re sipping a foreign cocktail. Serve with castelvetrano olives (put some orange zest on top) and chunks of parmesan cheese and you’re one vaginal steam away from being Gwyneth Paltrow.



(pretty sure this isn’t Italian… oh well)


Jackie’s Easy Ramen Recipe

As far as I have been responsible for feeding myself, I have had a deep and steadfast affinity for all noodles. They are cheap, never go bad and versatile. I don’t give a fuck what Marie Osmond, Jillian Michaels or your gluten free roommate tells you… carbs are NOT the enemy. I get aroused by a good pasta and if you learn to make it at home for yourself, you can cut out a lot of the fatty, unhealthy bullshit ingredients restaurants add (same goes with salad dressing). Last night I experimented with an old friend of a noodle, Ramen, and was pleasantly tickled.

I haven’t cooked Ramen in years because it takes me back to a dark place… college. I know being that I am just 39% basic, one would assume I loved college and was in a sorority and like shared hotel rooms in Vegas to go to some day club cause I knew the promoter…but no. I fucking hated college. Hence while I only made it about a year and a half. I spent the better part of my collegiate days ditching class, doctoring fake report cards to send to my dad to see if fake straight A’s could wrangle me a few extra hundred a month, watching Barefoot Contessa, then going to Food for Less in pursuit of discount Branzino.

Unfortunately, once mid-month hit I usually had to resort to one fucking thing to sustain my beastly appetite, Ramen. So as you can imagine, we have a very sentimental and indifferent relationship, Ramen and I.

Last night, I went back in time along with a more highly developed culinary touch and gave my 5 year old emergency Ramen package a go and here is the easiest, most delicious, cheap, healthy asian noodle dinner you have ever tasted. Fuck you Ina.

What you need (for one serving #allbymyself #dontjump) 1 package of ramen noodles, 2 small heads of baby bok choy, handful of kale, 2 handfuls of shitake mushrooms (or whichever you like), 2 small thai peppers, ginger, 5 cloves of garlic, 1 shallot, ¼ lb of steak (I used stir fry style), one egg, teriyaki sauce, 1 ½ cups of veggie broth, fish sauce, low sodium soy sauce, lime, chives.

  1. Soft boil an egg in pot of boiling water, 6 minutes is perfection erection, remove shell and rinse under cool water to stop cooking, put aside.
  2. In same water (#resourceful) cook your ramen noodles about 3 minutes, throwout the flavoring packet – that shit will leave you bloated until 2018.
  3. Strain noodles and set aside.
  4. Over medium heat, add about 2 tablespoons of olive oil, 5 cloves of chopped garlic, half a thumb worth of peeled and chopped fresh ginger, 2 thai peppers (scrape out the insides these fuckers are HOTT) and half of a shallot chopped. Sautee until translucent.
  5. Peel leaves of the bok choy (throw out the tough inside part) and add to the ginger/garlic and toss until they soften about 2 minutes.
  6. Add mushrooms, sautee another 2 minutes.
  7. Add vegetable broth, few dashes of soy sauce, few dashes of fish sauce, juice and zest of half a lime and handful of kale, stire and let simmer on low heat until shit gets hott and all veggies are soft and wilted
  8. In separate pan heat up tablespoon of olive oil and add meat of your liking, sautee just lightly so meat does not get touch, add a dash of teriyaki to give some sweetness and throw in some sesame seeds if you got em.
  9. Add your ramen noodles and egg to the hot broth to reheat and then pour into a bowl. Slice the soft boiled egg in half and place on top.
  10. Add meat, handful of chopped chives, remaining raw shallot, lime wedge or zest on top of noodles and thank me later.


Bitchy Bellini

It’s Memorial Day and that means paying respect to our troops who defend our country and keep us safe … and day drinking #AMERICA. If you are like me and like to be asleep by 8:30pm, getting your drink on begins at 11am. Nothing says good morning like a fruity and frisky bellini. With fresh peaches and juice, it’s basically a fucking smoothie.


  • Peaches
  • Orange or Grapefruit Juice
  • Mint
  • Champagne (or Prosecco)

Directions: Puree fresh diced peaches in a blender with dash of juice, blend until smooth and then strain to get rid of any chunks/skin (gross). Let chill then add one healthy spoonful to bottom of Champagne flute and top with the good stuff. Garnish with fruit and mint. Cheers bitch!


Thirsty Thursday – Lavender Martini

Oh hai. I have been feeling super rustic lately. First, I bought mason jars. Then yesterday I found myself starting a fucking her garden… the legal kind. Sure it will be nice to have a fresh sprig of thyme to jazz up a roasted chicken but what I am MOST excited about is incorporating my homegrown garnishes to use in my cocktails. The first to sprout (gardening lingo) was my lavender BUSH. Am I the only adult who can’t use the word bush seriously? Since I am partial to a dirty martini, last night I got experimental with my new foliage and concocted this DELISH lavender martini I had to share with muh bitches.


Vodka (Gin works too)

Juice of a lemon

Lavender syrup (to make boil equal parts sugar and water with a few sprigs of lavender)

To serve: Let syrup chill. Rim martini glass (or if you are a dirty hipster MASON JAR) with lemon juice and dip in sugar. To a cocktail shaker add 1.5 oz (or more) of vodka, juice of a lemon, tablespoon of simple syrup and ice. Shake like a polaroid picture and serve.


You’re welcome. Cheers!

Bitch Life Hacks

BYOB… Everywhere. Water bottles are the smart bitch’s flask of the future. Clear alcohol= standard water bottle. Colored alcohol = Perrier (colored plastic) when all else fails double ziploc your happy juice and shove it in your bra (perfect for amusement parks).

For the non-domestic bitch looking to impress your boo: buy a premade rotisserie chicken from the market. Cut it up, add some garlic cloves, lemon slices, rosemary up the ass cavity, stick it in the oven cover with foil and everyone will think you’re a fucking goddess.


Unless it’s your best bitch or boyfriend, don’t be a double (or worse triple) text kind of bitch. In the same realm, if you send a text that takes up length of the phone screen you need to get your shit together.

BYOB… Everywhere. Water bottles are the smart bitches flask of the future. Clear alcohol= standard water bottle. Colored alcohol = Perrier (colored plastic) when all else fails double ziploc your happy juice and shove it in your bra (perfect for amusement parks).

Preparing a cheese plate can really suck the life out of you. There you stand, at Trader Joe’s, paralyzed by the abundant selection. Just remember the 3-S rule: Sharp, Stinky and Soft. For example: Gouda, Stilton, Brie. Fucking duh.unnamed

Always carry mace in every handbag and/or orifice. And don’t be afraid to use it, it’s legal. Just please make sure the safety lock is engaged if it’s up your v.

If you are wearing hot pink or sultry red dress, don’t wear a black shoe. Go nude or metallic. Trust me.

Learn the skinny arm and implement it whenever humanly possible. In conjunction with a protruding clavicle you WILL be your best self.


Buy your olive oil at TJ Maxx. But seriously, that shit is expensive. I buy all major condiments and hair products there. ITS HALF PRICE. Nothing gives me a lady-boner harder than discount truffle oil and a hair mask for under $10… NOTHING.

Get coats at discount shops like H&M or Forever 21 and change the buttons. Oldest trick in the book.

When traveling, ALWAYS tell the hotel you are celebrating an anniversary (even if you are alone) it has a 84% success rate for free champagne.

Use popsicles instead of ice cubes for cocktails. Shimmy a watermelon popsicle into a shaker, add some vodka and mint and everyone will think you are a pretentious mixologist from Los Feliz.


Get a journal or a therapist. Finding support in solace in your friends and family is great, but sometimes working through some of your issues privately makes you a strong bitch. It’s good to have a gauge of when you are exhausting your support systems and save those resources for a real shit storm.

If you want the Ariana Grande ponytail without having to clip one on like she does, you must learn the double ponytail. It will change your life and probably make you a better singer.


In a pinch, know you are legally allowed to sleep overnight at any Walmart parking lot. Seriously… they can’t kick you out. This is what would be considered an all time low but at least a bitch has options.

Skinny Bitch Piña Colada

I was going to do a VMA recap but… I don’t fucking feel like it. Recaps are so annoying. I will say Ariana Grande is too talented to keep dressing like the spokesperson for Wet Seal lingerie, Taylor Swift moves like a limp green bean with a minor case of cerebral palsy (although Shake it Off is my jam) and Yonce is STILL on my mouth like liquor…. Every female in the music industry should be EMBARASSED #queenbey.

If you don’t follow me on Instagram you are really missing out… I am like the Martin Scorcese of fucky 15 second instavids (@jackieschimmel #plug). Yesterday, continuing my pain in the ass world tour – vacation edition, I was lusting for a poolside pina colada in a big way. It is rare I have these fruity cocktail cravings since the only thing I drink is dirty martinis. Until yesterday I had been convinced a “Phil Collins” was just a super popular gin drink… awkward. Now I eat like a diabetic truck driver but I WILL turn down for liquid calories. 500 calories for one fucking drink? No thanks, I would rather have a burger. I have to keep my shit together, I have my television debut in a few weeks (I will be on Watch What Happens Live on Bravo 9/14 #doubleplug) and have no intention of doing any type of exercise. One of my cocktail making tricks is the importance of a good shaker. I make ALL my drinks in a shaker, it’s like an irresponsible arm work out. Another trick is swapping out ice cubes (which tend to dilute the happy juice) for fresh fruit popsicle chunks. I don’t mean loading up your drink with some syrupy bullshit – I am talking either real frozen fruit or some 100% juice popsicles. My faves are a watermelon mint popsicle (48 mutha fuckin calories) found at specialty markets and coconut water fruit floes from Trader Joes (perfect for this recipe). Here is my super easy Skinny Bitch Pina Colada recipe that will not result in a muffin top or a hangover.

This is hands down the most awkward video of all time. Bottoms up bitches.

Gorgonzola In My Gucci

I realize the title of this post sounds like a sick sexual innuendo but calm your boners… I am not even sure what this article is about but it seemed super funny last night. Shut up. Yesterday I hit a new low point. I don’t offer up these morsels of truth lightly and was forced into the realization that I’m slowly but surely becoming my grandmother. For the record she is next level fabulous and my favorite human being ever. She also requires that even standard t-shirts be steamed and travel in garment bags and averages 3 send backs per restaurant visit all while lovingly stroking the waiters arm and referring to them as “babe”. She can get away with just about anything and I admire that.

I don’t know if it happened all at once or after slowly testing the waters and having it come so naturally went balls deep. The key to being a high maintenance bitch is doing it all in a really overly nice self-deprecating manner and with enough persistence that people will eventually succumb just to get rid of you.  So my boo and I headed to Palm Springs to celebrate my birthday, drink a shit ton of blended drinks, get a tan and hang out with the gays poolside. Heaven.

After moving rooms 3 times (the first didn’t have enough natural light, the second had bad energy and the third was the last available) we settled in and I did my standard post check-in run through. Robes? Check. View? Check. Small children adjacent? Check. FUCK. I don’t want to sound like a she-devil but small children can be such a buzzkill. I would love to say I am someone who finds all children precious… I don’t. I headed to the pool and was welcomed by a tidal wave from some little screaming bastard who was at least 11 years old with water wings, a scuba mask and a fucking cast (unsanitary) cannon-balling into the pool #birthcontrol. His mother looked on in her trucker hat and Coors Light, “Tim don’t forget the bathroom is just over there.” Basically proclaiming her meatball shit of a son was not only infecting the waters with his open flesh but also had an inclining to pee in the pool. Something feels wrong about putting a water wing on a casted arm right? Put little Timmy back in his cage.

I called the waiter over and ordered an adult beverage asap “light on the mix, heavy on the pour *wink”. This has a 50/50 success rate. After chugging my drink, asking the waiter if they could turn up the music to drone out the shrill sound of children, had any hypoallergenic sunscreen I could borrow and if they had an adult only pool (am I an adult?) I knew it was time to vacate. I have never had a near death experience but I was pretty sure my waiter was one request away of shanking me. Feeling his hate vibes I decided I had wreaked enough havoc and retreated back to my room to get ready for dinner. I got in my robe and realized I was having a wild craving for a blue cheese martini. What like you haven’t had that craving? Instantly I started dialing local restaurants “Hi! Sorry I know this seems strange but do you guys have blue cheese stuffed olives?” After 3 disappointing phone calls, I decided to take matters into my own hands like a boss ass bitch. “Babe I’ll be right back!” “Where are you going?” “Um… just going to check out the fire exit routes. Be back in a jiffer!!”

I headed to the on site restaurant at my hotel with a clear mission. As I approached the hostess, I tried to evoke my best girl next door with a warm heart and friendly smile essence. “Hi Jessica, I know this sounds absurd. Is there anyway I could just get a small side of blue cheese crumbles to go? It’s part of my paleo diet…” I don’t even know where that came from #noshame. “Sure! One sec.” I fucking love Jessica. It was then that I returned to my hotel room and began stuffing my own olives. I wrapped them in a salvaged piece of plastic wrap and hid my gorgonzola garnish in my Gucci bag. Because that’s so fucking normal…

We headed to an Italian restaurant, I radiated the scent of cheese and no matter how I tried to mask it I was one pungent pain in the ass princess. I immediately ordered my cocktail and swapped out my pimento stuffed with my homemade garnish with the finesse of a true bitch. My boyfriend looked at me horrified. I am a boundary pusher by default but this was a new low. What’s more bizarre is I found this in no way strange. “What? I wanted blue cheese stuffed olives in my drink. Fuck off.” It was then that the waiter came over and looked down at my drink like he just birthed a transgender. He was so confused, I awkwardly laughed and told him I had brought my own blue cheese olives. “Haha! My manager told me someone had called about that earlier. You’re nuts!” Excuse me? Shit he was totally right. Am I a desperate control freak or just a complete pain in the ass? How long have I been getting away with this? This may have been my high maintence breaking point but the beauty of this downward spiral is my inherent resourcefulness and will to meet my high expectations. Right? Well fuck. No shame in my game….  This is what we call a glass half full approach to life, my glass just happened to be filled with vodka (and blue cheese stuffed olives).

Not ready for this jelly.

Not ready for this jelly.

Bitch Bible Lesson: When life hands you regular martini olives, bring your own Gorgonzola and stuff them yourself. #deepthoughts



Hola bitches, I am in the process of recording my podcast series. Here is an unfortunate sneak peek of some of the awe inducing and truly thought provoking content which will be maturely discussed. You’re welcome and I am really sorry about this Temecula.

**I would like to clarify we went on to say we only disliked Lizzie with an i-e at the end. I actually love Lizzy’s and felt gay peer pressure to blindly agree with him. Besitos.

Easy Summer Recipes

I am not going to sit here and go on and on how I get a huge hipster boner for fresh summer produce and flourishing farmer markets. I don’t bring my own bags to the supermarket, wear gladiator sandals and a farmers hat to peruse locally sourced eggplant and insincerely grope lemons for 35 minutes to find one that is “just right”. That is just not me.

I do however enjoy the free samples and imported cheese selection at MY local farmer’s market so once in a blue moon I stray from my usual Gelson’s or Bristol Farms and head  to roam amongst the granola crew. When I am cooking a meal my main focus is presentation, easy ingredients (inexpensive doesn’t hurt either) and obviously yummy. I really hate the word yummy and apologize for using it so carelessly. As I wandered the aisles of fresh fruits and hemp accessories I was inspired to make a dinner solely using ingredients bought at the farmer’s market (and by inspired I mean I was running low on gas and felt too lazy to stop at another store).

I got seduced by an Israeli man with more herbs than Whoopi Goldberg so I got swindled into buying almost everything under the sun. Basil, dill, italian parsley, green onions, rosemary, you name it. I tried to incorporate all of these into my dinner. I decided to make lavender lemon martini’s, a burrata caprese salad, herb salmon and grilled peaches with vanilla ice cream. It was a total stomach boner if I do say so myself and so colorful!



Lavender Cocktaillemon juice, simple syrup (equal parts sugar and water boiled) infused with fresh lavender, vodka. Add to shaker with ice, shake, serve and sip responsibly… or don’t no judgements.

Caprese Salad burrata cheese (buffalo mozzarella works too), heirloom tomatoes, basil, olive oil, balsamic vinegar (or glaze). Slice and layer, top with oil and vinegar, salt and pepper.

Herb Salmon salmon filet(s), lemon, fresh italian parsley, dill, green onion and whatever else you have. Coat salmon in olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper and top with chopped herbs. Drizzle more olive oil over herbs so they don’t burn. Bake in 375 degree oven for 15-20 minutes.

Grilled Peaches with Vanilla Ice Cream – peaches, honey, vegetable oil, vanilla ice cream, mint (I used basil instead). Brush peaches with oil and grill until soft with pretty grill marks, top with vanilla ice cream (after peaches have cooled) drizzle with honey (optional) and garnish with mint. 

Bon Appétit bitches.