Where does the good go

Archive for June, 2006

Don’t Mess

Wednesday, June 28th, 2006 by Dawn Summers

Don’t Mess

My, my, Texas has just become a mean, lean killing machine.

Tao of F-train

Tuesday, June 27th, 2006 by Dawn Summers

Tao of F-train

Today is F-train’s birthday and I am finally, blissfully free.
Last year, my poor Uncle Fredo had a fishing accident and I was unfortunately unable to attend F-train nee asphnxma’s birthday party.
And although I may not have remembered the specifics of it all, he was right there to remind me at least once a week for a year, up to and including a email for this year’s party which included a link to this.
So, umm, good luck, Chugarte and Alceste, good luck.
I was the first one to arrive at F-train’s 30th…as per my penance agreement and let me tell you, getting there was pretty awesome.
According to travel sites, I could either take the 5 to Borough Hall or the F to Bergen street.
Now, for you non-New Yorkers (or non Brooklynites) those directions are about as helpful as someone saying to get to Cincinnati you can either fly into JFK or Palm Beach.
Doesn’t matter, you’ve got a looooooong walk ahead of you.
But never mind, hot bartender kept my attention until till Kaz and F-train arrived.
Now, I could write about being squashed by Sonar, who responded to warnings that I do not like to be touched with a cavalier “ah, she’s just never been touched in the right way.” Or about giving DJ Howard the very easy choice of saying that he didn’t care about the World Cup and staying in my good graces or choosing the World Cup and being dead to me…DJ Howard who? Or about being chastised for violating the Mardi Gras code…but it’s not my birthday, so that would be pretty selfish.

So, in honor of F-train’s big day, I present to you, F-train: the man and the philosophy.

On gratitude:

“Thanks Dawn. For your disgustingly generous gift.”

On assisting those in need:

“I hate helpless people.”

On comuppence:

“It gives me such a warm feeling to see you get “wtfpwn3d.”

On tact:

“Is she gone? Can we talk about her breasts now?”

On mixed company

“I lost my last boa…but it’s sort of an X-rated story that I don’t think Dawn wants to hear.”

On parenthood:

“I like kids. But they look like a lot of work.”

On addiction:

F-train: “I’m not that much of a crackhead that I want to stay over in AC.”

Me: Uhh…I’d say that driving down and playing until your eyes are bloodshot and then taking a bus back at 6 a.m. has to register high on the crackout scale.

On snappy comebacks:

After JCN told a pretty ribald story of hot gay sex, Mint Julip and I called F-train over to save us with a new conversation topic.
“How ironic that we’re turning to you for good clean conversation,” she said when he sat down.
“Heey, when did you become a bitch?”

On putting blame where it belongs:
After Mint Julip left:
“Dawn Summers!!! What did you do to drive away the hottest girl at my party?”

On not valuing his life at all:

(To me, Kaz and Elba)
“Where are the hot girls?”

On negotiations

Girl: If I make out with you, will you give me the boa?
F-train: Ok.
Girl: There. Can I get it now?
F-train: No.
Girl: I feel so used…wanna keep making out anyway?
F-train: Ok.

On birthdays (external):
“Birthdays are the Earth’s equivalent of passing the starting tower on Lap 198 of the Indy 500.”

On birthdays (internal):“OK, now I have to make a list of all the people who aren’t here.”


Tuesday, June 27th, 2006 by Dawn Summers


Guy: Yeah, I asked him which baseball team he rooted for and he said ‘oh, the Yankees and the Mets,’ and I was like whatever, no way is he a real New Yorker.


Tuesday, June 27th, 2006 by Dawn Summers


Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing
There is a field. I will meet you there.


Tuesday, June 27th, 2006 by Dawn Summers


Ok…well, it was also my first, but still.
In celebration of the future Lee Stevens offspring, his sister in law organized a dimsum brunch square in the heart of Whiteyville.
It was pouring on Sunday and after an evening of drinking and taxi cab driver vengeance planning, let’s just say they haven’t yet made the alarm clock that could wake me before noon.
Unfortunately, baby shower started at noon.
I jumped in the shower, threw on a suit and put the pedal to the metal.
I did, somehow, find time to stop off at a bakery in Red Hook to get breakfast (yes, I know I was going to a brunch, but…still.)
Sadly, the cupcake was not very good at all. Despite the fact that the place scored very well in our unscientific cupcake taste test.
So, by the time I made to the restaurant, I was wet and still starving.
Plus, I wasn’t sure if we would be paying for our meals and I didn’t have anything other than a fistful of credit cards and Casino membership rewards cards.
Besides the father and mother to be, I only recognized one other person in the dim sum hall.
“Hey, Anna!”
She tilts her head to the side and gives me a disapproving look.
“Dawn, fix yourself…you’re all crooked…”
I readjust a strap or two and pull my suit jacket shut — this is going to be a loooong day.
Still half-asleep, hungry and worried about the deadbeat Dawn bill paying moment to come, I order a cup of tea.
Kaz and F-train arrive shortly afterward and we all take a seat at the first table. Captain, Lee’s high school friend, sits with us.
Since all of these people had been at F-train’s birthday party the night before, except Anna, who was not invited, conversation was a bit lacking.
Especially since I kept thinking “hmmm…the last time I saw F-train and Captain, they were both sucking some girl’s face in a bar.”
Not baby shower fare to say the least.
So, I managed to muster a good “anybody got Fourth of July plans?”
“Yeah, Kaz and I are going to Nantucket with my roommate…There promises to be one wedding and one funeral,” Captain offered.
Food. Where oh where was the —
Oh, here it is!
Is that all?
Damn, dim sum.
I began to practice my best “Oliver” impression as I scoured the crowd holding my empty plate.
Hungry Dawn = Sad Panda.
“Pssst…ok…what if I went and got a take out menu and ordered some pork fried rice…would that be bad form?”
Man, all these people do is stare at me. Do I have something on my face?
Our table was complete when Kaz’s friend from law school, who left New York to work for a judge on an island in the South Pacific joined us.
She is currently working on a novel about a girl who leaves New York to work for a judge on an island in the South Pacific.
She sat down as they were handing out the second course.
“Man, the last baby shower I went to we had to play all these awkward games…like guess how wide the mom to be is, using toilet paper to measure, and this game where they put clothespin on the women and blindfolded men have to pull them off…”
What now?
“Yeah, I had to play that one with a judge.”
“How do you avoid touching in …inappropriate ways?”
“You don’t.”
Anna then told this story about her law school profs asking her to judge which of their chests was better. She did so very animatedly and well, I would say F-train was not so much listening to her story as watching her stand up and down. And by “her” I mean “her boobs.”
“I’m so distracted,” he whispers to Elba, the novelist.
“How do you manage to function everday?”
ooooh, oooh, pick me, pick me!
Anyway, so when Lee’s sister in law stood up and clinked the glass…I panicked.
Either this was the moment when we’d be asked to contribute twenty dollars for our meal and I’d have to sneak out through the bathroom or she’d be handing out clothespins and, well, I’d have to sneak out through the bathroom.
Happily, the first “game” involved naming as many children from various TV sitcoms as you could in two minutes.
“Dawn, if you don’t win this, I will be very disappointed.”
Everyone was supposed to keep their papers face down, until she started the official two minute countdown.
Some people had already started writing.
“Dawn! No cheating,” Lee said pointing an accusing finger at me and my still face down paper.
“Hey, good instincts, my friend. But, no, I am innocent this time.” Man, you cheat once or twice at Uno on game night and they never let you forget.
When time was called these were the chosen sitcoms:

Brady Bunch
Growing Pains
Family Ties
Cosby Show
The Simpsons
Full House
Everybody Loves Raymond

And for extra credit there were three other shows, only to be counted in the event of tie.

I whiffed on the middle brother on the Brady Bunch, forgot that Growing Pains added the annoying curly haired child in the last season, and called Andy “Adam.”

Oh well, but yes, at the final tally, I won.

The prize? For the girl who watches too much TV: A set of bookmarks.

The next game we had to name the baby animal to match the adult animal listed.

As you can imagine, I did less well on this one. In fact, I resorted to writing the name of the adult animal in Spanish whenever I didn’t know it.

F-train decided to put an “ie” after the adult name.

Our respective sheets would look something like:

Monkey= Mono

Monkey= monkeyie

After the games, we had cake (mmmm…delicious, delicious, delicious cake and just to complete my day of disproving our unscientific taste test, the cake was from Buttercup which fared extremely poorly in our test.) and the mom to be opened up our presents.

She’d open a box and hold the items up for everyone to oooh and aaah.

“Uh oh…my gift is not very “ooh”y or “ahh”y,” I said to the table.
“What did you get? A power drill?”
Earlier that week I had emailed Kaz to find out if the couple was registered anywhere. She said they were, but asked if I wanted to get in on the gift she and Captain were buying — punk rock clothes for babies.

You know shirts emblazoned with “AC/DC” or “daddy drinks because I cry” or “I live for titties.”

No, No. I kid you not.

I politely declined saying “well, when Helen runs out of her shower crying, I will point out that I bought a gift off the registry like I was supposed to!”

But here the gifts all were, being judged by the judging eyes of the shower guests and I doubted myself.

“Is it too late to put my name on the card,” I pleaded as Lee picked up the very cute Spiderman bag from Captain and Kaz.

Kaz said “Suck it!” or something like that.

When they finally got to my gift, I basically apologized in advance.

“I’m sorry my gift is not any good at all. I am not creative in anyway and I am socially awkward.”

My gambit worked and my gift got more sympathy applause than anybody else’s!


After my third piece of cake, on not that full a stomach, I was starting to feel queasy. I had thought that I could get someone else to drive back to Brooklyn, but the rest of the law school folks decided to go get drinks.

So, I dropped them off and prayed that I didn’t retch until I made it home…after all, I’ve already got to pay to get mildew and chocolate out of the backseat.

Happily, I didn’t hit any traffic on the way home and was safely back in bed within minutes.

And I could say that I successfully made it through yet another one of life’s little rites of passage: the baby shower.


Monday, June 26th, 2006 by Dawn Summers


Me: I’m good with people, too.
Pi: Well…I don’t know about that. But you’re not annoying.


Monday, June 26th, 2006 by Dawn Summers


I finally finished “Three Junes.” It’s not as sucktacular as it was in the first thirty pages, yet that really is the best I can say for it.

But this passage really resonated with me:

Pull yourself together and live. Live: a command I received explicitly some time ago and try to respect for all the privilege it gives me. Never mind that it often feels like a burden I’d rather stow in an attic with the rash luxury, the true luxury, of saving it for some undetermined season in the future.

More and more often lately I’ve been beseiged by the same impulse. As I fritter away the last days of my roaring twenties decade, the call to get up, grow up and get a life has gotten just loud enough to break through the sounds of Britney Spears on my ipod. The second album, naturally.

All my friends are off and coupled, some have even multiplied. But, Dawn, as ever remedial in mathematics, struggles on with her own schizophrenic, frivolous demands with little care for others. But I know it cannot always be this way.

Nor do I wish it to be.

I want the successful, fulfilling career and the family of my own choosing and the children and the home and the SL 500.

I just need another few minutes or so.

Just a while more of sleeping until 11, playing card and board games until the sunrise, catching up on a Season’s worth of Smallville and turning the AC up to the maximum setting, so that I can still wrap myself up in my comforter even on the hottest summer nights.

What I wouldn’t give for just a couple more days of memos dashed off in the middle of the night to meet the final, final “first thing in the morning” deadline of irate bosses and the mindless monotony of document review for which I am paid blindingly handsomely.

Yes, I want to live. I do. Just, not right now.


Sunday, June 25th, 2006 by Dawn Summers


Girl on girl fight delays flight.

Police detained one woman and questioned two others early Sunday after a fight broke out in the first minutes of a flight to Puerto Rico, causing the plane to be diverted to John F. Kennedy Airport in New York, officials said.


Sunday, June 25th, 2006 by Dawn Summers


Say what you want about bottle tricks and in depth knowledge of drink ingredients, but I have seven drinks –including two “I don’t know, make me something interestings,” and forty bucks that says the most important feature in a bartender is hotness.
Good thing I don’t get drunk and I’ve given up poker for a while, cause I’ll be buying lots of drinks at the Last Exit this summer.

Lately, I have taken to describing sucky situations as “awesome” — emphasis on the “awe” as in “awful.” However, I also describe great situations as awesome and I am starting to confuse myself.
Which is, of course, awesome.

I will be making yet another complaint against a cabdriver who sped off on the wrong black woman. Why don’t they have a network that distributes my picture with the phrase “if you don’t want to end up at a hearing before the TLC don’t mess with this chick”?

I don’t make many promises, but when I do, I keep them.

Soooo many memories…sooo few blogs.

Where are my pajama pants?

9021Oh, That’s So Sad

Saturday, June 24th, 2006 by Dawn Summers

9021Oh, That’s So Sad

Aaron Spelling is Dead.