Clareified

Where does the good go

Archive for October, 2006

See you at the party

Tuesday, October 31st, 2006 by Dawn Summers

pump

Or you know, you’re dead to me.

If you don’t know about the party…then…um…I was just kidding.

What party? No party. Remember those people that got married on Halloween?
Weirdos.

Everyone’s got a book in them…and I’ve read mine

Tuesday, October 31st, 2006 by Dawn Summers

I’m doing the National Novel Writing Month challenge with my college roommate.

It starts tomorrow –so if there are any other people that wanna get in on the action, let me know, I can email you the challenge.

Or you can go to their site for yourselves.

The goal is to write 50,000 in one month. This is my second serious novel writing attempt…the last one failing a few years ago.

To be honest, I’m not quite sure I have a novel in me anymore. My mind and writing style has completely morphed into something more suited to writing dialogue for screenplays or TV shows…but hey, nothing beats a trier but a failure, right?*

*This is a phrase that my mother and her sisters have used on us kids all our lives. We don’t know what it means or who started it, so if anyone out there has any idea, please leave your comments.

Woooo

Tuesday, October 31st, 2006 by Dawn Summers

It’s a veritable Clareified linkapoloooza over at Ari’s!

Hoooray.

Is that weird?

Monday, October 30th, 2006 by Dawn Summers

I was talking to this Australian woman today and at the end of our conversation, I totally wanted to be like ‘Sorry about Steve Irwin.’

Cause they really do!

Monday, October 30th, 2006 by Dawn Summers

Yet another google search that Clareified is number one for…

Clearly, the NYT editors aren’t reading my blog…

Monday, October 30th, 2006 by Dawn Summers

Otherwise, they wouldn’t print captions like THIS: Representative Nancy Pelosi, the Democrat who anticipates becoming the speaker of the House, has emerged as a symbol of the country’s partisan divide.

which sends Dawn to an early grave of jinx!

One way to solve the problem of overcrowded prisons

Sunday, October 29th, 2006 by Dawn Summers

“We don’t want to see Canada become a haven for pedophiles or any other person committing serious crime,” Day told reporters.

“We don’t want U.S. courts getting the notion that we just take people here that they would have put in jail but they instead send to Canada.”

We’ll take it!

via Karol

Notable Quotables or Dawn’s big book of quotes of the day

Sunday, October 29th, 2006 by Dawn Summers

Look, I could tell you about eating the pork loin or losing eighteen throws of roshambo in a row…or I could just let you pretend like you were there…Dawn Summers presents: Her afternoon in vignettes.

Me: So we’re really going to the barbecue right after brunch? Seriously? Does that sound like a ridiculous plan to anyone else?
Pearatty: We decided not to make plans, remember?
Me: And that’s why we ended up with this ridiculous one.

F-train: “So who’s to blame for you guys being two hours late for brunch?”
Pearatty: We don’t do blame.
F-train: Oh, we do blame.
Pearatty: Ok, then we are all equally to blame.
Me: No way!
Pearatty: Uh…I was just trying to help you because you said he was going to blame you anyway.
F-train: I do blame her.

Me: Kaz said I would like Burning Man
F-train and Pearatty (simultaneously) No you wouldn’t.

Pearatty: Burning man is pretty much fire and wangs.
Me: Well, then the name accurately captures the experience.

Me: Ahhhh…that duck tried to kill me.
Mr. Pearatty: It wasn’t a duck, it was a swan.
Pearatty: Are you sure it wasn’t just an ugly duck?

F-train, after pearatty and I had wandered off: I knew I’d find you by the TV.
Me: I didn’t know it was a movie. I thought it was cartoons.
F-train: It does sound like cartoons, doesn’t it?

Me (watching Mr. Pearatty try to pry open a chain on an abandoned warehouse door): You just know he’s about to release some four hundred year old spirit that’s trapped in there. And then it’s gonna possess us and we’ll start eating brains.
Pearatty: Mr. Pearatty, stop that!

Pearatty, upon discovering a hole in the apple pie: Mr. Pearatty! I gave you shotgun so you would hold the pie in your lap!
Mr Pearatty: You said to hold the pie, you didn’t say hold it in my lap.
Pearatty: Why would I give you the front seat??!!!

Karol (after I told her the story later): Yeah, why would she give him the front seat? See? You can’t get divorced over stuff like that. But you want to.

Partygoer: Ok…don’t tell anyone I’m opening the plates.
Me: Don’t worry. I won’t say a thing…unless I am blamed.
Partygoer: Well…since we’re the only black people here, it has to be one of us.

Partygoer to Mr. Pearatty: Are you a cop?
Me: No. He’s a Republican.
Mr. Pearatty: No. I’m a libertarian. There’s a difference.
Chugarte: Not when it comes to voting or you know, how the country is run, but at a party…wow, huge distinction.

F-train attempting to make sure we follow along with his reasoning: Wait…have you seen clown porn?

Pearatty: Were there nuts in the cake?
F-train: No.
Pearatty: Dawn, the cake is safe, no nuts.
Me: Yeah, I figured it out after my throat didn’t constrict and cut off my breathing.
Mr. Pearatty: Don’t worry, I know how to perform an emergency tracheotomy with a Bic pen.
Me (zipping my coat up to my throat): Umm…I’m good. Thanks.

Pearatty: When I was little my sister stabbed me in the leg with a pencil.
F-train: You are so going to wake up tomorrow with a Bic pen in your throat and a pencil in your leg.

Me, after finding a dirty plate of meat stuff and sauce precariously balanced on a row of books on a shelf: Dude, how does someone do that in another person’s house? Ridiculous. Ever since I’ve started hosting parties and games in my apartment, I am so aware of how I treat other people’s places when I visit.
Pearatty: Wait. So what were you doing before? Shoving paper towels in their toilets and saying ‘HA! That’s what you get for throwing a party?’

Me: You know, I can’t do other things with people that I play poker with…I mean, I’m looking around and it’s like, there are at least six poker players here, we could sooo get a game going! Everything else just seems like a waste.
Pearatty: Ummm…so have you started to look into treatment options?
F-train (upon hearing that story later): Dude, do we need to have an intervention for you?
Pearatty: Well, I think it depends on whether you could get at least six people there.

Chugarte: Where is Karol? What? Is she coming next week?

F-train: How could you not know that World of Warcraft is a real game?
Me: How do you know that it is?! HUH? HUH? Not so fun when the questioner becomes the questioned, is it? Is it!
F-train: It is when you do it like that.

Me: I hear that you wear dorky headphones when you play.
F-train (defensively) Alceste does too!
Me: Wait. That’s your rebuttal to my dork allegation?

Me: I climbed all those stairs to get up here, somebody better show me a sun setting.
Mr. Pearatty: That was like twenty minutes ago…but the sky is still pinkish and now that it’s raining, you’re also getting a meteorological experience.
Me: The beer bottle is always half full with you, isn’t it?

Me: The whole going to brunch and then the barbecue plan worked out beautifully. I didn’t say anything earlier, but I really had my doubts.
Pearatty: You know Dawn, you really need to work on being more open and expressing yourself. I can never tell what you’re thinking.
Me: I know. I’m shy.

Pearatty: Where are you guys? We’re already downstairs… Yes, we left you guys. You were taking too long…what?! Bitches?!!
Me: Did F-train just call us bitches?
Pearatty: How’d you know it was F-train?
Me: Well, Mr. Pearatty would never say such a thing…F-train on the other hand, says it all the time.

Mr. Pearatty: The sign says Flatbush is that way.
Me: No..trust me…I feel like it’s this way.
F-train: I feel like we’re going to die.
Me: Shut it! Alceste believes in my holistic driving.

Mr. Pearatty: Yeah, Reagan was just some cowboy who was going to start World War 3…how do you rebut that?
Pearatty: Your butt.
Me: You’re stupid.

Karol: What? You told the whole car that I get lap dances from strippers?

Me: I think Mr. Pearatty was mad that I told the people at the party that he was a Republican because he thought that people wouldn’t talk to him.
Karol: I’m totally the opposite. I use it to weed out the riff raff. I’m all “I’m a Republican! Now who’s left?”
Me: For the record, I don’t think I got that disclaimer.

Karol: I can’t believe you didn’t meet my friend Tom.
Me: Oh, you mean your imaginary friend Tom who happens to be white and love hip hop, lives in Brooklyn, encourages smoking at his place, is a Republican, has a dad who knows all your stupid idols and has a car to drive you all around the place. Yeah, is he here in the car right now? Hi, Tom. I’m Dawn. Nice to meet you.
Karol: HAHAHAHA…but he doesn’t play poker and isn’t Jewish, that’s how you know he’s real.
Me: No way. If he was also Jewish and played poker, I’d definitely know he was made up. You are trying to throw me off your psychoses.

Me: Ron Lad, can you drive me to my car? Make a right and a right.
(He starts to make a right turn.)
Me: NOOOO…right! I mean left! Left!
Ron Lad (now making a U turn): Dawn. Left is a totally different thing.

Conversations of the Day

Friday, October 27th, 2006 by Dawn Summers

Gas Company Man: Well, whoever installed this for you didn’t seal the pipes.
Me: Oh my God! I could have been killed!
GCM: Umm…probably not.

Karol: We have a barbecue to go to Saturday…the same barbecue we went to last Saturday.

Ignorance is Bliss…or Knowledge Means Fear of Blowing Up

Friday, October 27th, 2006 by Dawn Summers

“Then I went and spoiled it all by doing something stupid like explode you” – Sideshow Bob

My mother’s big idea, when I was remodeling the kitchen, was ovens in the wall.
“Get ovens in the wall,” she’d say.
OK.
So I got the wall ovens…and, by default, ended up with a countertop range thing, with cabinets underneath.
From the day they were installed, I’ve smelled gas under there.
“Hey, do you smell gas under there?” I’d ask anyone who cared to listen.
“No. You’re crazy,” they’d say.
“Hmm.”
Now, I’ve heard that diagnosis before, so I ignored the smell.
I packed my groceries under there, and held my breath whenever I went to retrieve something.
There is no suffocating gas small, Dawn. It’s all in your head.
Well, after seven months of the gas smell being in my head, I decided to tell the contractor about it.
He has one more thing to finish, before I can wash my hands of him and I figured, while he’s here, I would have him check out the stove.
“No problem,” he said, “just leave the manual for the range where I can see it and I’ll look into it.”
That was the first week of September.
I told my mom that the contractor would be finishing up and that I asked him to double check the stove.
“Oh good, cause I smelled a little gas under there.”
“WHAT? You said you didn’t smell anything?!!!”
“Well, I thought you’d make him take the wall ovens out and I liked them.”
Awesome.
Anyway, now I am super happy that the contractor was coming the next day to check it out. I wasn’t crazy and there was gas leaking.
Of course, I don’t even know why I was surprised when I came home and the manual had not moved from where I had left it.
The gas smell was still there.
I called him up.
“Oh, things were crazy here. I’ll come tomorrow.”
“OK, cause I am having guests in late October, so I’ll be needing to take the key back from you by then.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we won’t come anywhere close to October.”
Right. Of course, he probably meant cause he wouldn’t be back till March or April of ’07.
Anyway, my guests are here, I have my key back and I am still stuck with the gas smell.
But since I have grown accustomed to it, I wasn’t worried.
Until my guests were like, umm…Dawn…you have a gas leak in the kitchen…you should call the gas company.
Now, I have no recollection of ever paying a gas bill. And, to be honest, have no idea who the gas company is — but I figured it was time to address this problem.
I called the contractor and it went straight to his voicemail.
“Bah…nuts to this.” I hang up.
Perhaps leaving a ‘Bah, nuts to this,’ message on his voicemail.
I then google gas company and Brooklyn and find out that there’s only one.
I ring them up.
“Hi…are you my gas company?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I haven’t paid any gas bills…I just turn on the stove and it comes out…so I don’t know who puts it there…”
“Where do you live?”
“Brooklyn.”
“Yes, we are.”
“Oh, is there only one company for Brooklyn?”
“Yes.”
“Well, ok…I kinda smell gas…can I make an appointment for someone to check it out?”
“Ma’am, gas leaks are very serious. We don’t make appointments. We send someone immediately. What is your location?”
“Oh….um…ok.”
I give him my address. He verifies the apartment and then he gives me a litany of very important instructions.
“Please ventilate the area, turn off all appliances, move all switches to the off position, do not unplug or plug in any plugs, extinguish any open flames, do not strike any matches, and absolutely no smoking in the area. Our man will be there in less than one hour. Do you understand?”
OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!OHMYGOD!!!
I am going to die a fiery explosive death.
I went to the kitchen, opened all the windows and balcony doors.
I have been flipping on switches and operating appliances and plugging things in and letting people smoke for MONTHS!!!!!
I live in a death trap.
I am currently blogging from under my bed.
God bless us all.
Except the contractor.