Clareified

Where does the good go

Archive for July, 2005

WHERE’S MY TRENCHCOAT?

Thursday, July 28th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

WHERE’S MY TRENCHCOAT?

You scored as Loner.

Loner

100%

Goth

88%

Geek

63%

Drama nerd

63%

Prep/Jock/Cheerleader

50%

Punk/Rebel

50%

Ghetto gangsta

25%

Stoner

25%

What’s Your High School Stereotype?
created with QuizFarm.com

via Gib

I HOPE THE SUMMERSES ARE REALLY RICH

Thursday, July 28th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

I HOPE THE SUMMERSES ARE REALLY RICH

Because I’ve been expensively wronged.

NOT SO RANDOM THOUGHT

Thursday, July 28th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

NOT SO RANDOM THOUGHT

The AK is a way crappier hand than people think it is.

AND THE ONLY CURE IS POKER

Thursday, July 28th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

AND THE ONLY CURE IS POKER

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

GAME ENDS FRIDAY WHEN I CLEAN MY ROOM

Thursday, July 28th, 2005 by Dawn Summers


GAME ENDS FRIDAY WHEN I CLEAN MY ROOM

So, put in your guesses and quick!

TAKE THIS JOB AND…

Thursday, July 28th, 2005 by Dawn Summers


TAKE THIS JOB AND…

Fill it.

Anybody else up for Great Adventures in the middle of the day on every Tuesday until my next job starts?

Umm…I mean after the next two weeks, when I will be diligently doing everything that needs due diligence.

YAY!! NO MORE FEEDING THE PARKING METERS ON SUNDAY

Thursday, July 28th, 2005 by Dawn Summers


YAY!! NO MORE FEEDING THE PARKING METERS ON SUNDAY

City Council passes ‘ban’ on ‘pay to pray’ suspending meter rules on Sunday. Hmm…don’t Jewish people pray on Saturday? I think we need to suspend meters on Saturday too, just to be fair.

Wait and Jehovah’s Witnesses pray on Friday right? And Muslims pray like every day, don’t they?

No Pay to Pray Any Day!!! No Justice, No Peace!

WHO’S ADDICTED NOW?

Thursday, July 28th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

WHO’S ADDICTED NOW?

I almost didn’t play poker yesterday so I could stay home and read Harry Potter.

But then I realized I could read at red lights, so…

Everything Old is New Again (or yes, I still

Wednesday, July 27th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

Everything Old is New Again (or yes, I still blog thanks for asking)

My great aunt died on Sunday.
Tonight was her wake.
Well, she wasn’t my “real” great-aunt , at least not by blood, and the only memory I have of her is sixteen or seventeen years old. The whole family had gone to Great Adventures and no one would go with me on the roller coaster. She volunteered. And, if the program at her wake was right, she was 81 years old at the time. Damn. And to think, all I kept thinking at the time was that she smelled weird.
Teenagers.
Anyway, she was my godsister’s great aunt and in those days any family of my godsister’s was family of mine. Fifteen new cousins, three aunts, two uncles, one guy-who-is-not-our-uncle-but-is-most-definitely-having-relations-with-our-aunt and one great-aunt.
Visiting my cousins was like stepping into bizarro East Coco Beach. Well, the drugs, graffiti and poorly lit hallways were exactly the same; but, where I lived in a two-bedroom apartment with my mom – they lived in a two-bedroom apartment with six kids, one grandkid and two parents.
There was always noise—music, laughter, yelling, crying, toilets flushing, glasses breaking, it was basically Disneyland for an only child.
My cousin Nando and his girlfriend Mandy would pick me up from the babysitter on his bicycle. They somehow shared the seat and I would sit on the handlebars. I was five years younger than the youngest of the six children, so they took turns combing my hair, teaching me to skip rope and fight.
Angie, the second middle child, used to braid my hair and put beads on the end of each plait. My job was the rip up foil paper in small little strips to put at the end so the bead didn’t fall off. And not to move. Her wooden brush was the enforcer.
Yvette, who was first cousin to the six siblings, was that slow, fat relation that every family has. Growing up I would always be cautioned to “stop eating so much. You don’ t want to look like Yvette do you?”
In the later years that became “whoa, you’re getting as big as Yvette!”
Thanks, Mom.
The one grandkid was the daughter of the oldest daughter. She had had an affair with an older, married man and he refused to take any responsibility for the baby girl. So she and her mother had moved back in with her parents and siblings. The little girl had her last name.
As the years passed, I went from the cute, youngest to the “smart one, who talks white.”
In the interim, Dee, the second youngest had a baby at sixteen. Jen was born just weeks after her cousin, Ty was born to the nineteen-year-old Angie.
I remember going over to bring gifts for the babies when I was ten. Jen was lying on the bed and Dee asked me to get her washtub out from under the bed. I pulled out the plastic basin and put it on the bed. The tub made a loud thumping sound, which startled me, I mean, you put a plastic tub on a bed mattress, it shouldn’t thud so loudly.
Except when you put said tub down on the exact spot where a baby is lying.
Oops.
I quickly swept the tub off the sleeping baby and checked her forehead for any telltale signs.

Nothing! And the blow didn’t seem to wake her. Whew!
By then, the married man had divorced his wife, married the oldest daughter, given his daughter his name. They had two more kids. Another girl, who had such a vacant look about her, most suspected some retardation, and a boy.
The oldest son had married, had two kids, divorced and lost one of his kids to his ex-wife. (The oldest of the boys looked like the father, and the ex-wife apparently wanted no reminders of him when she started her new life in D.C.)
Mandy had dumped Nando. Leaving him with all the N heart M jewelry. He went crazy and spent six months in the psyche ward before marrying a hospital administrator named…Amanda. (Well, at least, he could keep the tattoos.)
The second oldest daughter had never had kids. And considering all her siblings had multiple children, it seemed unlikely that she ever would have them. She played the role of the doting aunt with a passionate zeal and just the slightest touch of sadness.
My godsister had a son at eighteen; then got married to a different guy, for three months. (Which, looking back, wasn’t such a shock since she brought a date to the rehearsal dinner.) She remarried and had another son ten years later.
When I left for college, I lost touch with my godsister and her huge extended family, but every now and then, for the big occasions, I find myself again in their world.

And so it was that I sat in the back of the church tonight. My not-really-my-great-aunt’s casket perched at the edge of the altar. My godsister, somberly dressed in gray, sitting in a pew next to her mom, husband and youngest son. Nando, Angie, the oldest daughter, Dee, youngest daughter, second oldest daughter, the guy-who-is-not-our-uncle-but-is-most-definitely-still-having-relations-with-our-aunt, dozens of new cousins, husbands, wives and even Yvette (who has lost a ton of weight, but who, unfortunately, turns out not to have such a pretty face) filled in the rest of the family section.
At the reception, I embraced all the old familiar faces and some new faces that were kinda familiar too.
“Wow. You don’t have to ask who that is,” my mom said, looking at a girl about 8 or 9, “she looks just like Alisa.”
The child turned her face to me and I could see that what my mom said was true, right down to the buckteeth and cross-eyes.
”Oh. Yeah. That’s unfortunate.”
We laughed.
Jen was there, at twenty she looked no worse for her unfortunate collision with the plastic bathtub.
Dee has three other kids besides Jen, who flatly announced “there’s a lot of us now” when my mom asked where Dee was.
Her cousin Ty, also twenty, was huge. As tall as he is wide, he had a tattoo of a bleeding Tweety bird etched on the inside of his left forearm.
“How you doin’ Dawn. I know you making bank!” he bellowed to me from across the room.
Uhhhh…ok.
The program listed the oldest daughter’s first born as the eulogist. She was listed with her father’s last name and I wondered if she was ever told of the two years when she went by her mother’s. Her sister still had a vacant look about her – although at 5’9 and 100 pounds, she looks like a supermodel…although, I suppose the two looks are not incompatible.
The formerly married man was there too.
Nando’s marriage to Amanda II didn’t work out; she moved away with his two kids. But he seemed in high spirits.
Most happily, the always-an-aunt-never-a-mom, had a baby four years ago. At 41! Zaida is a lively three-year-old. She evidently has a number of imaginary siblings who cause all the broken ornaments and crayon writing on the walls of her house. She is in a gifted elementary school and is positively adorable.
I also found out that my godsister, a court officer, carries a gun to work.
We all live scattered lives now, each with his or her own apartment (well, mostly everyone has their own apartment…shut up). All with their own handful of kids (even though she’s an only child, Zaida most definitely counts as a handful!), everyone cringes at the memory of living crammed in a two-bedroom apartment; eight people sleeping in one, but I hope they realize that I once thought of that as the happiest place on earth. And still think of them as my family.

CLAREIFIED’S FIRST SWEEPSTAKES

Monday, July 25th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

CLAREIFIED’S FIRST SWEEPSTAKES

What playing card has been sitting on my bedroom floor for the past 12 days?

Must guess rank and suit. One guess per IP address. Prize will definitely be something absolutely worthless, if there is a prize at all.

Leave your guesses in the comment section.