Clareified

Where does the good go

Archive for January, 2005

WALK. CHEW GUM. WALK. CHEW GUM.

Tuesday, January 25th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

WALK. CHEW GUM. WALK. CHEW GUM.

Sorry that posting has been so light and more random than usual. I have been obsessed with the ipod and the seeing how many of my CDs it can hold before it bursts. Turns out, lots. We are now on Disc three of Les Miserables the Symphonic version.

THINGS THAT MAKE YOU GO HMMMM

Tuesday, January 25th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

THINGS THAT MAKE YOU GO HMMMM

Would you rather have your spouse back from Iraq mentally fine, but physically mangled or physically fine but mentally ruined?

PAVLOV SAYS WHAT?

Monday, January 24th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

PAVLOV SAYS WHAT?

Ummm…should I be worried that as soon as I heard a random beeping from my computer, I immediately clicked on the unknown flashing icon on my taskbar?

FORGET THE LOTTERY

Monday, January 24th, 2005 by Dawn Summers


FORGET THE LOTTERY

I’ve just got to catch bin Laden.

24

Monday, January 24th, 2005 by Dawn Summers


24

Why are all the black people on the show orange tinted? And now the white people are excessively pink.

Is this a make-up thing or have I developed the ability to see through pigment?

QUOTE OF THE NIGHT

Sunday, January 23rd, 2005 by Dawn Summers

QUOTE OF THE NIGHT

“I’ve tried poor but happy, guess what? It wasn’t that happy.” – Gabrielle Solis

While we’re at it, let me be the first to call the “she resumes her affair with John gets pregnant because Carlos tampers with her birth control pills, but then isn’t sure who the father is” storyline.

DAWN SUMMERS: LAST ACTION HERO

Saturday, January 22nd, 2005 by Dawn Summers

DAWN SUMMERS: LAST ACTION HERO

Due to the promise that New York City would be covered in snow by the end of tonight, I decided to stockpile food and supplies (read: enough chewy chocolate chip cookies to last the week) for the white-out to come.
Since I was still feeling a little queasy from a bad lunch on Friday, my mom insisted on coming with me to the grocery store. I called a taxi, pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt and we went downstairs to wait for the cab. The street was already covered with a few inches of snow. A 1976 Lincoln pulled up to the door.
“You go in first,” my mom said as she carefully walked with her cane toward the car.
I opened the door and slid all the way over.
My mother limped inside.
“Good afternoon, we’re going to the Shop ‘N Stop.”
No answer.
“Flatbush and Snyder,” my mother said more loudly.
The car took off.
“Sir, do you have a card? We’re going to need a car to pick us up in an hour.”
Again, no answer.
A few minutes later he made a left on Synder.
“No, this is not it, it’s the next block.”
“You said Synder and Flatbush,” a gruff voice sneered.
He stopped the car and turned around: “This is Synder and Flatbush.”
“I made a mistake, it’s the next block up,” my mom said.
He blurted an expletive and pulled out again.
At the next corner, I knew my mom was wrong again, the Shop N Stop was on the next street up.
“No, it’s one more block up – make the left on Tilden.”
No answer, but the car kept going.
Unfortunately, when we got to Tilden, he still kept going.
“No! Wait, left here. Left here!”
He pulled over to the far corner.
“The road is too bad.”
He put the car in park.
“What?”
“The road is bad.”
No kidding, Sherlock. Why do you think I called a cab to go six blocks?
“So, what does that mean?”
He unlocked the doors.
Oh.
“Look, if we have to get out here, you’re not getting paid.”
“I don’t care if you pay me. The road is bad. I am not going around again.”
My mom opened her door. She put the cane down and swung her legs out.
“I am going to report you,” she said as she began to stand out of the car.
“Well, I’ll just take you back home.”
I felt the car move into gear.
“Well, I’m not going back home,” my mom yelled as she walked away from the door, “and you’re not getting a penny.”
I began to slide over to open door, when I felt the car moving.”
“Hey!”
No answer.
The door was still open and he was about to pull into traffic.
Now, you see people jump out of moving cars all the time on TV or in the movies.
But doing it in real life is an entirely different thing. For instance, on TV you never hear the debate between the little voice in the jumper’s head saying jump and the brain saying are you crazy?
The brain says: “He’s not really going to keep driving with his door open and us here in the backseat.”
Yes, he is, you idiot, he’s just waiting for that sedan to pass him and he’s going. Get out now, the voice orders.
The voice is right. I scrambled over to the open door and put my feet out.
“Surely, he’ll stop,” reasons the brain.
My feet scraped the pavement as the moving car made its way into the left lane.
“Did that feel like a car stopping?”
You’re right, shut up brain.
“Wait, let’s think this through. You can’t jump.”
I said shut up.
My mother was staring in horror as the vehicle pulled further away from her.
“Daaaaawwwwnnn”
I jumped…. Well, more like tilted all the way forward and tumbled to the ground.
It’s an odd sensation going from 8 or 10 miles an hour to zero in one forward lean. My legs gave out under me, I fell backward and my head hit the pavement.
Ouch.
My mom hurried toward me.
I was lying face up in the street, covered in snow and had lost a shoe.
“Are you alright? Dawn, are you hurt?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
By now a few passers-by were watching. I stood up and dusted my coat off.
My mom went looking for a police officer.
I bent down to put on my shoe and find my hat, which fell off in the scuffle between head and pavement.
She went up to a parked patrol car, but no one was inside.
I looked up the street and saw the beat up car, with its right passenger door swinging open, stopped at a red light.
“See, we could have just gotten out at a red light…but no we had to jump. No one ever listens to the brain.”
Shut up.
“Mom, just forget it. I’m fine.”
When we came back home, she immediately called the citywide complaint hotline to report him.
I went straight to google to find out the early symptoms of a concussion.
I went straight to google to find out the early symptoms of a concussion.
I went straight to google to find out the early symptoms of a concussion.
I went straight to google to find out the early symptoms of a concussion.
I went straight to google to find out the early symptoms of a concussion.

MY DEAR FELLOW LIBERALS,

Thursday, January 20th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

MY DEAR FELLOW LIBERALS,

Be of good cheer, we made it through the first term!!!

WE INTERRUPT THIS BROADCAST FOR AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE

Thursday, January 20th, 2005 by Dawn Summers


WE INTERRUPT THIS BROADCAST FOR AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE

Republicans are pretty much awesome. Thanks Jake!

We will now return to your regular program, already in progress.

PERSONALLY, I THINK THEY’RE GETTING OLD

Thursday, January 20th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

PERSONALLY, I THINK THEY’RE GETTING OLD

Simpson, Lachey Return for ‘Newlyweds’