Clareified

Karol: Blog about the party, blat.
Me: Can I write about that racist drunk?
Karol: NO!
Me: Can I write about the disgusting spitter?
Karol: ABSOLUTELY NOT!
Me: The thing that happened with that person and the other person under the place?
Karol: Umm..what? But probably NO.
Me: Well, what am I supposed to write about then?
Karol: How cute I looked.

Ok, ok…some of that conversation happened, some didn’t, who the hell knows, I can’t be trusted and I don’t know anything.
But yes, I did go to some German Swedish bar on Saturday night to party down with the pajama set.
I had an amusing exchange with the bouncer at the door, as I was in minimalist mode–carrying only my digital camera and the keys to my car.
“ID, ma’am?”
“Um…I don’t have my ID…just my car keys…umm…but you called me ma’am, so…”
He stares at me, not comprehending.
“Um…I am most definitely over 21.”
“You have ID?”
“Well, yes, of course, I do…just not here…but um…I’m not drinking anyway…I drove.”
Here, I jingle my keys.
He stares down at me for a few more seconds and then lets me go inside.
I want to yell “HA! Sucker! I’m 19 and I’m going to booze it up!” But I don’t.
I spot Jamie and his friend in a corner and say hello.
Or “so’s your face, you suck so hard at Scrabble,” I can’t remember.
He tells me that the lesbians I thought were lesbians weren’t lesbians at all.
“One of them is married, Dawn!”
“To the other one?”
“No. To a man! I wish they were lesbians!”
“Dude…what is the male fascination with lesbians? You know if they’re kissing each other, they’re not kissing you.”
“Well, they probably wouldn’t kiss me anyway, so might as well get to watch them kiss each other…if you and Karol want to win my poker tournament every time, just start kissing each other.”
I glance over at her and she immediately says “hell, no. I can do better.”
(Did I mention that we took a picture together and she cut me out of the photo and made it her myspace picture? No? Ok, remind me to tell you later.)
Karol introduces me to a black guy, whose name I don’t remember and says “this is Dawn, my liberal nemesis.”
“We’ve all got one,” he says.
“Oh yeah? Who’s yours,” I ask.
“I live in Chelsea, honey, which means everyone I see is my liberal nemesis.”
Ah.
I make my over to my white 20 something gay fiancee, Dorian and his friend who is a boy. He kisses me hello and says to remind him about the man that he wants to set me up with.
“The journalism guy with the kid in Pennsylvania?”
“Yeah, I told you?”
“Yup.”
“Ok, well, you definitely should do it…him.”
“On it.”
His friend who was a boy was an adorable kid who thought my name was “Donna Summer” and requested that I sing ‘Last dance’ for him.
Seriously. A. Dorable.
I gave Peter my standard: Give me back my donuts! And he gave me the standard Newmanesque: Hello, Summers.
(Aside: So, last February, I went over to Karol’s place to meet up before going to Atlantic City. I was in the neighborhood, so I bought a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts with me. I offered them to Karol and Peter and as we sat around eating our fill, Peter points to a cellophane wrapped stack of red paper next to the box. “What’s that?” “I dunno, Valentine’s Day cards they were giving out at Krispy Kreme.” He LAUGHS! “Who you giving your Krispy Kreme Valentines, to, Dawn?” He asks still laughing. “Uh…no one…shut up. You take it. Now it’s your problem!” I said throwing them at him.
The night ended and I thought not again of the incident. A few weeks later, I get an email from Peter saying “HAHAHAHA…each one of those Valentine’s came with a coupon for one free KK donut…and there were a dozen cards in the pack! best Valentine’s ever.” NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.)
Next Karol introduced me to Ed Z, a blogger who actually went to our high school, but found Karol again when she guest blogged for Michelle Malkin.
“Do you remember me?” he asked.
“Umm…sorta…but really I had like six friends in high school, so if you didn’t play Chess, Risk or Model U.N…it gets a little hazy.”
He laughed and said he had like six friends there too.
We chatted a bit and then he introduced us to his wife.
“Yeah, we went to high school with him…AND he has pictures of us to prove it!”
Karol covered her face.
“What the hell were we doing in the Green Growth Club?” she groaned.
“Um…well, I wanted more pictures of me in the yearbook,” I said to horrified stares…”I mean…I wanted to save the dolphins?”
Ed’s wife was very cool, despite the lost years spent in Oklahoma!
I made my way over to young PetiteDov who told me that she’s currently working for one of my people.
“Black people? Liberals? Fat people? Catholics? New Yorkers?”
“No! Lawyers…well, sorta…one of the people I answer phones for is a lawyer.”
“Ah…”
“I’m pretty much trying to figure out what school I want to go to next…I know you’d say not law school.”
“Not law school! DEAR LORD NOT LAW SCHOOL! Go become a professor!”
“No, I don’t want to be a Professor!”
“Hmm…ok…I’ll tell you what…you give me a list of things you’re looking for and I will input them into my computer and come up with exactly the job for you…BUT…you have to do it! Whatever I say!”
“What kind of computer?”
“The computer, right here,” I say tapping my temple ever so gently, “I don’t trust the internets.”
She laughed and then Karol bothered us. And then ruined a series of pictures of Petite Dov and Pretty Numbers.
“PN is wearing my shirt!” Petite Dov said.
“Shh…that kind of talk will make Dawn think you guys are lesbians.”
Shut. It.
I saw Weenie Enema in the corner. She is my younger, cuter, better behaved half in that we share an undying love of all things Beaches.
She asked me if I’d seen Midler on AI’s finale and I said no.
“YOU HAVE TO YOUTUBE IT!”
I countered with “Ok, but you have to see the You Tube versions of Kermit the Frog singing!”
She stared at me.
“Umm…not that I googled Kermit the Frog or anything…”
She laughed.
“Ok, but then you have to look up turtle rape!”
Uhh…she wins.
I told her about whowehate.com and she told me about camel afterbirth.
Huh. Ok, she wins again.
The rest of the evening is a blur of my debating the merits of the graduated income tax system with a Phillipino blogger, who is trying to make himself darker before his trip back to the Phillipines, in an effort to minimize his risks of getting kidnapped by muslim extremists and an exploration of the welfare mother with the Gucci sunglasses and an escalade out front.
I made my way outside to hang out with the smokers before going home.
I pulled Karol’s cigarette out of her mouth and threw it to the ground.
“You almost burned yourself, idiot,” she yelled.
“Nah. I was in control the whole time…”
She got out another and asked Funky Pundit for a light.
She took a drag and I whacked it out of her hand again…this time the lit end got a mite too close to my dress for comfort.
“Whoa!” I said jumping back.
And then Karol smacked me in the head.
“OW!”
And then a frightened onlooker ran away.
Sorry DorkaFork.
I wanted to leave, but was instructed that my little brother was on his way. So I hung around listening to Owen bitch about the fact that my law school is actually accredited, suffered getting the middle finger from Peter AND Pretty Numbers and tried to hit Karol’s third cigarette out of her mouth.
I said hi to Ron Lad and then was Audi 5000.

This entry was posted by Dawn Summers on Wednesday, June 6th, 2007 at 4:12 pm and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.