CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW? YES!
Itâ€™s 4:52 A.M.
Why is Dawn, that is to say, me, still awake?
And I havenâ€™t had time to do a long meandering post through my nonsensical life in quite some time, so please indulge me.
As has become the Dawn Summers last week of the year tradition, the past few days have been riddled with doctorâ€™s appointments. Youâ€™ll be happy to know that I donâ€™t need glasses and have perfect hearing.
Although, my ear doctor should really reconsider his choice of an audiologist who mumbles. After ten minutes of â€œwhat?â€ and â€œexcuse meâ€-ing through her preliminary questionnaire, I was certain that Iâ€™d be immediately fitted for hearing aids at the end of the test.
Even the audiologist seemed a tad surprised when the results came back normal.
â€œWell,â€ she seemed to say with her raised eyebrows, â€œI guess youâ€™re just retarded.â€
(Of course, her sense of surprise paled in comparison to the desk clerk who wanted to know if the â€œattorneyâ€ entry under occupation was correct.
Hard stare. Glance back to clipboard.
â€œWhat kind of attorney are you?â€
â€œIs that the same as a regular lawyer?â€
â€œNo. Weâ€™re the super lawyers. I can sue you, garnish your wages and repossess your house with a single flick of my pen.â€
â€œAlright. Have a seat.â€ Her face silently added an â€œIâ€™ll be keeping an eye on you.â€
Lucky me it was â€œkidâ€™s dayâ€ at the doctorâ€™s office.
One boy, whose name I deduced was â€œRyan Stop That!â€ made great sport out of covering the carpet in the doctorâ€™s office with magazines.
â€œNo, Ryan Stop That, magazines are to read, not play.â€ his mother cried, running after him picking up magazines.
Ryan Stop That then decided he wanted to color. And see, this is why itâ€™s awesome to be a toddler, he promptly walked over to the runny nose girl coloring in the corner and snatched the crayon out of her hand and set about coloring the wall.
â€œRyan Stop That, you have your own crayons at home!â€
Duh. Crayons at home do not equal coloring at the doctorâ€™s office.
And then â€“ he wanted to play carsâ€¦oh you wacky Ryan Stop That and your wacky antics, you wouldnâ€™t have lasted a single day under the Joyce Summers regime.
Afterwards, I decided to tie up loose ends with â€œYouâ€™ll Hate It and want to slit your wrists at Levitz.â€
1. They still havenâ€™t delivered the coffee table I purchased in AUGUST.
2. They never credited me back the money I paid for tax and delivery on a recliner that they no longer had in stock.
After confirming that â€“ for the ninth time in five months — my table would definitely be ready in two weeks â€“ I was then informed that Levitz could not refund any money due to bankruptcy.
â€œWell, you can fill out this form to file a claim in the bankruptcy caseâ€¦â€ and no, you donâ€™t have to clerk for a bankruptcy judge in the bankruptcy capital of world to hear the snickering in his voice as he slid the paperwork across the counter to me.
â€œWHAT? I AM NOT –â€
â€œ—Orâ€¦you can purchase something else here for that amount.â€
Which, of course, I promptly didâ€¦except for it was slightly â€“ and by slightly, I mean, immensely, more than the seventy dollar credit I was owed.
But itâ€™s cool; I got deferred billing on the thousand dollar leather chair and ottoman, so whoâ€™s the sucker now.
Never mind. Point is I got my seventy dollars back. Sort of.
You know, looking back on that thousand dollar for seventy deal I made â€“ I probably should have taken that as a sign *not* to drive down to Atlantic City for the nightâ€¦but I didnâ€™t.
And an hour later, Alceste and I were on the Turnpike making what has become an all too familiar run.
It was time for some serious soul searching.
â€œAre we insane?â€
Nothing like validation from the other inmates in the asylum to set a mind at ease.
Without F â€œBorgata has the juiciest actionâ€ â€“Train to lead us astray, we actually played at the Tropicana. Ahhhâ€¦the Tropicana, aka Dawn Summers ATM without the card.
Even before I really knew what the heck I was doing, I could win at poker in the Tropicana.
But, that was then.
You ever have one of those nights?
(And yeah, weâ€™ve managed to meander ourselves right into a poker postâ€¦)
You know the ones?
Pocket Aces, Pocket Kings, Pocket Jacks, Pocket Nines, Pocket Sevens, Pocket Eights, and Pocket Threes!
Only to have each one in succession taken out in one unimaginably horrifying way, until the ATM machine without the card becomes a damp, rat infested sink hole with no end?
Yeah that was my night.
I get five callers on my raise with red AA UTG.
The flop comes Kc7c9s â€“ all black.
I raise the first bet, four callers.
The turn is the 4c.
I simply call, with that sickening feeling in my stomach.
Three people see the river which is the Ks.
I call a raise, but want to throw up.
Of course, the SB had A6c for the nut flush and the jackass in third position had K7 OFF for the full house.
After having turned over the losing jacks two hands previously, the whole table sympathetically shook their heads with me as that jackass took all the chips.
I went pretty much card dead after that and started playing garbage hands, under the theory that poker karma should let me win with k7o or j9o or 57s since I had lost so much with quality hands.
Yeah, not so much with the poker karma.
Alceste was at a different table, but with similar results, and about an hour after my cracked aces, he came over to say heâ€™d had enough and was ready to go home.
Butâ€¦.butâ€¦theâ€¦karmaâ€¦andâ€¦theâ€¦pokerâ€¦I couldnâ€™t leave Trop down?!!!! I had to win it back. He agreed to let me play around till my next blind.
A9o. Missed the flop completely.
KJo. Strike two.
MY LAST HAND.
KING KONG BABY!!
I smooth call on the button.
The small blind raises.
Big blind calls.
So do all the other seven people in between. Yikes.
Ultimately seven people see the flop: A 4 4.
I call the bet.
The turn is a harmless deuce.
I call a raise from the BB, SB folds and itâ€™s just the two of us to the river: J
BB bets, I call.
I turn over my Kings.
He turns over 24. HE CALLED FOUR BETS PRE FLOP WITH A DEUCE AND A FOUR. (And as I said to Alceste on the drive back, the first person who asks if they were suited is getting punched in the face.)
And thatâ€™s all she wrote folks. I left Tropicana DOWN for the first time in my life and donâ€™t know if Iâ€™m ever going back.
In fact, no more AC for the rest of the year.
The drive back was a rather somber experience of fist shaking, swearing and â€œaccidentallyâ€ changing songs on Alcesteâ€™s ipod.
â€œOops, my bad — did the Jesus and Mary Experience go away? Crazy potholes.â€
Given my repeated idiotic posts mocking the idea that the East Coco Beach has become all gentrified, Alceste was too scared to take me back to my momâ€™s house, so we made the run through the Lincoln Tunnel up to Whiteyville.
At 3 in the morning, the streets were pretty much empty, so I was surprised that Alceste stopped at the yellow turning light, rather than making the turn through the park.
â€œDuuudeâ€¦.make the light!! Youâ€™re worse than I am,â€ said the girl that has prompted more than one passenger to utter the phrase â€œDawn, you either drive through the yellow light or I kill you.â€
â€œNo way, manâ€ Alceste protested, â€œIâ€™m not risking my baby,â€ he said patting his dashboard lovingly.
â€œWell, noâ€¦my second baby,â€ he added so abruptly I was certain this was about to be a sickeningly sweet â€œmy girlfriend is my first babyâ€ moment.
â€œCause my TV is my first baby.â€
Take that Dawn 2!
We made it back to Whiteyville in record time, I piled out of the car — too many dollars poorer, but one Christmas present richer (thatâ€™s right Trop, Iâ€™ll see you after I finish my Supersystem 2! Thanks Alceste and Dawn 2!). Four days in the ECB â€“ with its food and elevator, ill prepared me for the long walk up to my fourth floor apartment.
But as I settled in, it was good to be home, in my own bed , watching the many WPT events that Iâ€™d DVRd in the past four daysâ€¦but I couldnâ€™t sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw fours full of twos.
So to the computer I went, blog surf, check emails, maybe blogâ€¦It was there I found an email from Ari saying that Amazon (which has been sooo disappointing this holiday seasonâ€¦actually, I say that, but the truth is, Amazon totally delivered the stuff, it was the recipients of the stuff and their non leaving their apartment for eighteen days who just never bothered to pick the stuff upâ€¦) claimed it already delivered my X-mas present, even though I hadnâ€™t gotten yet.
Still pissed about my 0/15 pocket pairs winning streak, I decided what better way to spend my insomnia than yelling at Amazon customer service.
However, I am happy to report that no violence or threats thereof were necessary to get the very agreeable woman in Delhi to say that Amazon would resend me the Chappelle Show Season 1 DVDs! Woo hooâ€¦
So, all in all, today has been way a win-loss-win-loss-win day for Dawn.
Iâ€™m Dawn Summers, bitch.