Clareified

Proving the old adage that some people, namely Dawn Q. Summers, never learn, I went grocery shopping on Thanksgiving Eve again. But proving that other, lesser known, adage that even though some people never learn sometimes things sort of work out anyway. I decided to go at 8 a.m. when the store opened, instead of after work because I was planning to meet up with an in-town Rick Blaine at Ugarte’s comedy show that evening.Surprisingly, there were other shoppers in the aisles. But the stench of despair and air of panic were decidedly down from last year’s late night shopping visit.
Having gotten everything packed away, I made it to work at a respectable hour in the morning. A few minutes later liquid Armageddon began to beat relentlessly on my office windows.
Crap.
Well…I’m sure it’ll stop by this evening.
Of course, by five, the torrential downpour was still going strong. I decided to take a cab home – just to drop some things off and get an umbrella – I was definitely still going to the show.
Back to old adage number one, about the never learning, I sat in pre-Thanksgiving traffic for hours as Karol brayed on and on in my ear about “worst travel day of the year” and “no way you’re coming back to the city.” By the time I crossed the city limits into East Coco Beach, I was certain she was right. I was drenched, tired, cranky and starving to death.
Then my cell rang. It was Rick. And it was about an hour past when I was supposed to meet him and asphnxma at a bar downtown
“Hey, where are you?”
“Umm. In East Coco Beach.”
“What?”
“Well, it was raining and then I had all this stuff to bring home and so I took a cab, but there was a lot of traffic and now it’s cold,” I rattled off in my most sad, high pitched whine.
“Oh, well are you coming to Ugarte’s show.”
Hmm, I thought my tone of voice made the answer to that question perfectly clear. Maybe I’m losing my sad, high pitched whining abilities.
“I don’t think so, how much longer are you all (or as Rick would say, y’all) going to be there?”
“Actually, I don’t know. My plane was delayed, so I’m not there yet. “
Foiled! I wasted a perfectly good excuse on a no-show. Dammit.
“What! Then, I take it back. I went to the bar, waited for forty minutes and then decided to take a cab home. I am very angry and you owe me,” all whining masterly transformed into righteous indignation.
But no dice, he didn’t believe my new story (a.k.a. I did got to that bar before I didn’t.)
“Alright, I’ll try to meet you at the show. How far away are you?”
“About half an hour.”
Plenty of time for me to get home and get a couple of Magnolia’s cupcakes on my way to the show.
(For those of you who have never had Magnolia’s cupcakes, don’t ever try them because whenever you are even remotely within walking distance of Magnolia’s you will have to go. So, in this case, “on the way” means four avenues west and six blocks north. “On the way” has also meant 56 blocks south and two avenues west. Pretty much whenever I am in Manhattan I am “on the way” to Magnolia’s…but I digress…a yummy yellow cake, white icing topped, delicious digression, but a digression nonetheless.)
When my cab finally reached my house, I jumped out the cab, ran upstairs changed into dry clothing and prepared to head back to Manhattan.
I got off one stop past where the comedy show was and made the now all too familiar walk through the West Village. I saw the fluorescent bakery glow on the corner.
Yay, no line! (usually it curls from the bakery’s front door all the way around the corner…seriously those cupcakes are a sickness).
I crossed the street.
Huh, why do they have the gates down over the windows.
Weird.
I walked around to the front.
More gates. These pulled down all the way across the whole store.
What the…
The lights were on and people were inside armed with icing bags, but the huge black and orange sign said it all.
But not as well as the irate man standing on the stoop:
“Well, what does she want us to do now? We walked all the fucking way out to this place and they’re fucking closed. What do you mean am I sure? There’s a fucking closed sign in the window and metal bars in front of the door, what do you think I’m missing?”
Crushed, I headed back to the main avenue and walked to the show.
The place is called “Duplex” and true to its word, there was some kind of club upstairs and a small bar downstairs.
The entrance opened at the foot of a long staircase heading upstairs.
I assumed that’s where the show was, but because I am extremely lazy, I decided to check the bar area first.
I see someone I think is Ugarte (having only met him once, I look around for more decisive proof that I’m in the right place.)
[The young woman at the mic telling pigeon jokes doesn’t really count]
I spot Rick’s sister, the elusive Sam, then Rick himself, and some guy sitting next to him in a suit.
There weren’t any seats at their table, so I took a stool at the bar and ordered a drink.
The pigeon lady had now segued into some pretty lame “gay people don’t recruit” Ellen circa 1998 jokes. (Look, we know about the toasters, you guys can’t fool us anymore.)
Thankfully she finished up with some very funny “manger scenes” jokes – they are mostly visual, so I won’t attempt to retell them here.
Then, it was Ugarte’s turn. He told a joke that he had posted on his blog (and I will attest that I did laugh out loud when I read it there last week), plus an anecdote about his Florida poll watching.
As I would say later that night, I’m not yet ready to laugh about the Kerry/Edwards loss. Maybe in a four or five years. (To which that guy in the suit next to Rick, who turned out to be asphnxma (hey, after months of seeing the unemployed asphnxma, preceded by years of casual asphnxma, the suit threw me) said “ah, but by then Jeb will be President” I did not laugh.)
Then came the worst comic I have ever seen.
And yes, I saw Jay London on Last Comic Standing.
“I’m French, people say oh why do the French hate Americans? I say, it’s not just Americans, French hate everyone equally. We are bastards.”
OK, not bad. But then…
“My friends are assholes. They are.”
Umm..ok…
“You know, you people keep complaining about Thanksgiving. Just don’t go.”
Huh.
Yeah, if you don’t get invited to Thanksgiving and that’s why you don’t go, then you are a loser.”
I guess.
At this point, my cellphone vibrates: text message from Rick.
“This lady sucks,” I reply.
“Yes” he agrees.
Oh, maybe I just hate French people, let’s tune back in.
“I get to work late and my boss says: you’re late. And I’m like, I know.”
“Hey, lady wake up. I have had people fall asleep on me in bed, but never while I was talking, so that must have been a good joke.”
Tuning back out now.
After she finished her set, a well dressed man walked into the bar.
“Excuse me, are you related to Ugarte?” the bartender asks over the microphone.
“Yes,” he replies.
“This is my brother,” Ugarte says.
“So who is younger/older?” the bartender inquires.
“I’m older,” Ugarte answers.
“By how many minutes?” she joked.
And she wasn’t kidding, give Ugarte a shave, a haircut and a nice suit and he and kid brother would be virtually indistinguishable.
“Two years younger,” brother of Ugarte corrected.
The show continued, but I was too stunned (and starved) about Magnolia’s being closed (one remaining comic told a joke about how she gets not just one, but two (ooh, two cupcakes, she’s a wild one) Magnolia’s cupcakes to calm her nerves and I nearly burst into tears.)
Afterwards, it turned out that all the Blaines were equally starved. So the three of them, me and asphnxma set out to find some grub, while the Ugarte half stayed behind and said they would meet us at whatever restaurant.
After I let everyone know that Magnolia’s wasn’t an option, we started to look for a place to eat.
Poor Sam was fairly catatonic from hunger, but Rick was determined to get “good pizza” now that he was back in New York.
We looked at the John’s Pizza menu, but decided that they wouldn’t have enough seats for all of nine of us.
“Hey, how about Pizzeria Uno’s?” I suggested since we were only a few blocks away.
At least I think that’s what I said, from the looks I received it’s also possible I suggested that they do something sexually inappropriate with their own mothers.
“WHAT?”
“No way!”
“Uno’s sucks, this is New York.”
Gulp.
Needless to say we kept walking. Somebody then suggested we eat dinner in Union Square and everyone agreed.
“Well, if we’re heading up there shouldn’t we take cabs?” I offered.
But to no avail. It’s like once you suggest Pizzeria Uno’s your opinion doesn’t count on any subject ever again.
Thirty minutes later we were halfway to Union Square when Ugarte called to say they were eating at John’s.
“We might as well go back and eat with them,” I said.
“You know, we might as well go back and eat with them,” said someone with credibility.
“Ok, let’s head back.”

And what follows now is my night in a series of conversation snippets, or as I like to call them convernippets.

Dawn: “How’s the new job?’
Asphnxma: “Good, the hours are great.”
Dawn: “You get out everyday at 6”
Asphnxma: “Yep, 9-6.”
Dawn: See, I couldn’t do that nine part.”
Asphnxma: “What is it with you people and getting up early… and by you people, I mean blacks.”

Dawn: Look, what happens at karaoke stays at karaoke.
Asphnxma: Yeah, until it shows up on your blog.

Rick: “You guys will never believe where Dawn wanted to have dinner.”
Dawn:“Hey! Pizzeria Uno’s is America’s number one pizza chain. It’s very tasty.”
Ugarte: “Dawn, you should check the dictionary. Tasty and greasy are in two different places.”

After filling four glasses with beer, Rick pours the remaining foam into a fifth glass for me:

Dawn: How is that for me?
Rick: That’s about as much alcohol as you can handle.
Asphnxma: I thought it was because she’s 3/5 of a person.

Sister of Rick: Well, your face is ugly.
Rick: yeah, calling my face ugly is like calling me a bastard…no, it’s like calling me a son of a bitch. We have the same mom and the same face.
Dawn: Aww, siblings are so fun.

After explaining that his last name really is Star, I asked if kids in elementary school teased him:

Star: Yeah, I got Twinkle, Twinkle and Brenda Starr all the time. Then it was Ringo and Ken.
Rick (visibly appalled at the utter immaturity of it all) Ken? Really, people our age are making those kinds jokes about your name?
Dawn: Ken? Ohhh, Ken Starr! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA. Oh, sorry. Yeah, immature bastards. HAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAH

Dawn: OMIGOSH! I think that guy is famous!
Aspnhxma: Who.
Dawn: That guy behind me.
Rick: I don’t recognize him.
Dawn: I think he was in some BET or UPN show that white people never see…oh wait, nevermind, actually he’s my old boxing trainer.

Asphnxma: You probably watch more TV than everyone at this table combined.
Rick: Did you watch TV as a child?
Dawn: Of course. A friend of mine once told me I should be the focus of a study because I have achieved way beyond what my levels of television watching suggest is possible.
Rick: Yeah, so either it had no effect or you started out with an IQ of 400. You could have probably cured cancer, brokered peace in the Middle East, and mastered time travel.
Asphnxma: Peace in the Middle East? Don’t go crazy now.
Rick: Well, twelve hours a day for like twenty years…
Asphnxma: Hey, I’ll give you time travel.

And for the end of the night bill division fun we have Dawn on mathematics:

Asphnxma: Well there’s five of us, so let’s round the bill to an easy number, call it 85 dollars.
Dawn: 5 doesn’t go into 85.
Asphnxma: It’s 17.
Dawn: Eh, so’s your face.

This entry was posted by Dawn Summers on Saturday, November 27th, 2004 at 6:23 pm and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.