Clareified

Where does the good go

Archive for November, 2004

AND STAY OUT

Monday, November 29th, 2004 by Dawn Summers


AND STAY OUT

Well, or end the discriminatory hiring practices. But “and stay out” is punchier.

“Now every academic institution in the country is free to follow their consciences and their nondiscrimination policies,” Mr. Rosenkranz said. “Enlightened institutions have a First Amendment right to exclude bigots. In a free society, the government cannot co-opt private institutions to issue the government’s message.”

Those who can’t, blog

Monday, November 29th, 2004 by Dawn Summers

Those who can’t, blog

Ladies & Gentleman in her first appearance at the Blog Factory… Dawn Summers:

So, have you seen the story about the girl that was arrested for killing her mother a week before Thanksgiving?
It just boggles the mind how stupid some people are, I mean one week. Come on.
All she had to do was wait just seven more days and I’m sure it would have been a justifiable homicide — I mean … oh …I’m sorry officer, but apparently nothing I’ve ever done has been good enough and the carving knife was just there.
“Huh. Girl makes a good point. Alright, pack it up boys, nothing to see here.”
No, bad Dawn.
That’s very, very wrong. Bad, bad Dawn. That’s not at all what Jesus would do.
What would Jesus do? It’s a very big question these days — have fun at the prom Lucy, but just think about what Jesus would do. Now, Timmy you could have that extra snack and ruin your dinner, but what would Jesus do?
They’ve even got braclets and knapsacks that just say “WWJD” — that’s how commonplace it’s become TGIF, LOL, WWJD.
What Would Jesus Do?
Yeah, not for nothing people, but whatever Jesus did, got him killed.
And not just killed, nailed to a cross in broad daylight for like two days.
Now, Jesus is my homeboy and all, but alls I’m sayin’ is let’s all aim a little higher than cruxification in our day-to-day lives.
You know, I’ve always wondered about that word: cruxification — can you believe there was a time when people were so often getting affixed to crosses, that someone had to come up with a name for it?
“Dammit! Brutus, I can’t keep chiseling “man nailed to giant T-shaped planks” there’s just not enough room on tablets.”
“Alright, alright, alright, how about crucify.”
“Hmm, that’s good. You got one for “woman’s head removed from the body?”
“Ummm..try… decapitation!”
They were very good with coming up with words back then, all we do today is attach “rage” or “syndrome” and we’re done.
Even our magazines have weak names, Time? People? Heeb? That’s right “Heeb” because Jewish men aren’t stereotyped enough as whiny, neurotic mamas boys, we now have a magazine that rhymes with dweeb to remind us.
Actually, that joke is dedicated to Material Squirrel.
I don’t know if you’re allowed to dedicate jokes to people. I mean this is only my first imaginary stand-up routine, but if so, this “you’re so ugly” joke goes out to Mrs. Tyler who gave me a ‘Needs Improvement’ in fifth grade.
Yeah, I’m still working on it, biatch.
I know a bunch of people who are lawyers and stand-up comics on the side, which is probably a very good combination. Being a stand-up comic must really boost your confidence in the courtroom.
Like, you’re all in the middle of your closing statement, and opposing counsel says “objection!”
You’d just turn around and be all “Objection? Objection? are you kidding me? Do I come down to where you work and knock the license plate outta your hand?”
And don’t get me started on the judge — if he gets all up in your face, you just look him up and down and say:
“A robe? Really? You do know those are only for monks and people who are still figuring out what they actually plan to wear.”

Thank you, that’s my time — I’ll be here all year.

Things I’m thinking about

Monday, November 29th, 2004 by Dawn Summers

Things I’m thinking about

Six Feet Under/CSI crossover.

Why don’t cars have wheels that go sideways?

Is it better to marry Jesse L. Martin and have Clay Aiken sing at the wedding or marry Clay and have Jesse sing?

Thank God for Annie Duke beating Phil Hellmuth in the Championship game.

Should I use $10,000 to play in the 2005 WSOP?

Is Rabbi Hook also a worm?

How come you never hear the phrase ‘black trash’?

THE CUPCAKE KID

Monday, November 29th, 2004 by Dawn Summers

THE CUPCAKE KID

Magnolia’s has a rule that you can purchase no more than a dozen cupcakes at once.
No matter how crazy my obsession gets, these are guidelines I have been able to live with.
So, as per usual, I get four cupcakes boxed, to go, and one in my hand, which I’ll eat along the way. The twin goals of rationing and instant gratification nicely served.
I paid the bill and headed for the door.
I felt someone tap my shoulder.
“Excuse me, miss.”
I turn around, both checking for my cupcakes and my credit card – in that order- until they were both located.
I didn’t drop anything…what could she want?
“Yes?”
“Can you tell me how many cupcakes you just bought?”
Oh no, did they lower the limit to four? How fast can I eat this one without her seeing?
(Years ago when Karol first told me about Magnolia’s rules and lines, I scoffed. “HA! If I want two dozen, I’ll just walk in there buy a dozen, walk outside tape on a mustache and then in my best French accent say “I would like twelve cupcakes, si vous plait.”)
That was then.
I put my hand over my mouth and through a jaw full of cake and icing I muttered the number four.
“Ah gah oar” I repeated before swallowing.
The woman leaned in.
Dammit, she’s gonna do a breath test?
“Do you mind hanging around here a little bit? There are sixteen kids in my son’s class, plus the teacher. I need 5 more cupcakes.” She motioned to the empty box in her hand for emphasis.
Indeed, she had already packed twelve cupcakes into one box and had another five segregated under the case.
Having barely recovered from my worst fear that Magnolia’s security had busted me breaking their rules, I was not anxious to participate in this scheme to actually break them. What if they catch us and I get banned? Banned!
“Uh…I don’t know..” I said still choking a little bit from swallowing that first cupcake so fast.
“Please?”
“Alright.”
“Oh my gosh, thank you, thank you.”
She rushed over to the case and scooped the five cupcakes into her empty box and then grabbed another one.
We walked to the counter together.
“Hi. I’ve got twelve and I’m purchasing these six for her.”
I made eye contact with the clerk. I searched his face for any sign of reproach and prepared to bolt the minute I found any. Instead, a smile crept across his face and he rang up the 18 cupcakes on the register.
She paid him the $36 and we walked to the door.
We made it! I was safely on the street, cupcakes still in box and no lifetime ban.
So stressfull…I need a cupcake!

WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?

Monday, November 29th, 2004 by Dawn Summers

WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?

Esther adds fuel to my anti-Lohan fire.

Why is poor Lindsay’s privacy being compromised? Is it her overexposure to both the teen and thirty-something male demographic? Is it her insistence that in addition to being the idol of teenagers and pinup girl for older fans, she is also a pop princess with an ever-expanding bosom? Perhaps because of her huge um, bank account? Or the fact that she’s hanging out with Paris Hilton? You can’t tell me that you’re going to hang out with PH (or even date ex-whatever Wilmer Wonderama) and expect your privacy to be respected…
See, Ken, it’s not just the fake boobs.

Duff 4 Ever.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

Sunday, November 28th, 2004 by Dawn Summers


QUOTE OF THE DAY

“That house didn’t even have the lawn for them to burn the cross on.”

-my mom rejecting a house in “the whitest neighborhood in Brooklyn.”

START THE CLOCK

Sunday, November 28th, 2004 by Dawn Summers


START THE CLOCK

‘Desperate Housewives’ spoiler and a little bit of self back patting.

INSIGHT INTO MAUREEN DOWD’S FAMILY

Sunday, November 28th, 2004 by Dawn Summers

INSIGHT INTO MAUREEN DOWD’S FAMILY

E-mail from her brother Kevin:

People often ask me why President Bush inspires such passionate support. My brother Kevin, a salesman who lives in Montgomery County, Md., can answer that; here is a recent e-mail message, trimmed for space, he sent to friends:

“Ladies and Gentlemen,

Now, just as four years ago, I breathe a huge sigh of relief and rejoice in the common sense of the American voting public. Congratulations to President Bush for winning re-election in a poker game played with a stacked deck. No candidate, including Richard Nixon, ever had to endure the biased and unfair tactics of our major media in their attempt to influence the outcome of an election. … He never complained, just systematically set about delivering the same consistent message. You may remember that four years ago, I felt physically ill watching the Democrats try to legislate their way to the presidency. …

A very big thank you to Michael Moore, Susan Sarandon, Rob Reiner, Bill Maher, Barbra Streisand, Alec Baldwin, Al Franken and Jon Stewart for your involvement. You certainly energized the base. Now, please have the courage of your convictions and leave the country.

To Bob Shrum – Cut your fee.

To Mike McCurry, Joe Lockhart and Paul Begala – You don’t seem quite as smart without a great candidate.

To The New York Times and The Washington Post – If Bush and Reagan were so stupid, how did they both go four for four in elections involving two of our biggest states and the presidency without your endorsement?

We do not live in a secular country. There are all sorts of people of faith that place moral values over personal freedoms. They are not all ‘wacky evangelicals.’ They are people who don’t like Howard Stern piping a hard porn show over the airwaves and wrapping himself in the freedom of the First Amendment. They don’t like being told that a young girl does not have to seek her mother’s counsel about an abortion. They don’t like seeing an eight-month-old fetus having his head punctured and his brains sucked out. They don’t like being told the Pledge of Allegiance, a moment of silent prayer and the words ‘under God’ are offensive to an enlightened few so nobody should be allowed to use them. … My wife and I picked our sons’ schools based on three criteria: 1) moral values 2) discipline 3) religious maintenance – in that order. We have spent an obscene amount of money doing this and never regretted a penny. Last week on the news, I heard that the Montgomery County school board voted to include a class with a 10th-grade girl demonstrating how to put a condom on a cucumber and a study of the homosexual lifestyle. The vote was 6-0. I feel better about the money all the time.

To Dan Rather – Good luck in your retirement.

To Gavin Newsom – Thanks for all of the great shots of the San Francisco couples embracing their mates at City Hall in direct defiance of the law.

To P. Diddy – ‘Vote or Die’ might need a little work.

To John Edwards – Thanks for being there.

To my friends – only 1,460 days until the next election. Stay vigilant. The Democrats, CBS, the NY Times and the Post may think Hillary is the perfect antidote for all those ‘stupid’ voters out there.

Best regards, Kevin”

Evidently, her parents are equally misguided. This goes a long way to explaining some of the crackiness in her columns.

…And boy are my arms tired

Saturday, November 27th, 2004 by Dawn Summers

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.

Dr. Worm

Saturday, November 27th, 2004 by Dawn Summers

Dr. Worm

Not a real doctor, but a real worm.

Just so you know.