Clareified

Those days are gone forever; I should just let 'em go but…

Archive for December, 2007

Poor pearatty

Monday, December 31st, 2007 by Dawn Summers

For most campaigns, New Year’s will involve a lot of work (unlike Christmas, it’s a secular holiday, which gives candidates a free pass to stay on the job) – they’ll be entering the final sprint to the Jan. 3 caucuses – though most events on Jan. 1 start noticeably late in the day, just in case.

Happy New Years Dawn 3 — thank you for standing on that wall, so I don’t have to.

Holy bleeep

Monday, December 31st, 2007 by Dawn Summers

Edwards leads Clinton and Obama in Iowa. What. The. $@^#&#.

Not So Random Thought

Monday, December 31st, 2007 by Dawn Summers

We are all either standing still or moving forward. There is no going back.

It’s four in the morning…the end of December…

Monday, December 31st, 2007 by Dawn Summers

Okay, it’s not really four. It’s closer to seven. I’m watching the sunrise on the last day of 2007. And I hope to watch it set later tonight.
I went to church this morning. It was the feast of families. The church was filled with toddlers and newborns getting baptised and mothers and fathers and it really seemed to be a fitting way for me to spend the last days of 2007.
These are the kind of years they make critically acclaimed indie films that leave you scratching your head, while the screenwriter wins an Academy award and signs a three picture deal with Miramax, so she never has to work in a law firm again. Oh, sorry, did I type that out loud?
What a year.
I spent nearly everyday in pain. I cried more this year than I have in all my previous 29 years combined and well, I used to be a crier, so that’s saying something. There were lies and heartbreak and betrayal…and that’s just my feelings about the underwhelming second season of Heroes.
But the truth is, it was a big growing year for me.
Buffy once said “the hardest thing in this world is to live in it.” Honestly, I had managed to not live in it for a very long time, but between regular poker games, going to Scrabble tournaments and living with my cellphone stapled to my fingers, this year I probably had the most intricate social network of my entire life.
And while Fisch never tires of telling me that friends aren’t family, they are friends. And in some ways that makes them the family that you choose.
There was a whole month or so when Karol and I didn’t speak. Neither of us wrote about it, so very few people knew, which is funny considering how publicly we both lead our lives, but our cellphone carriers were immediately concerned and sent us desperate letters pleading for a reconciliation. “If you don’t return to your previous airtime usage, the terrorists win,” one letter boldly, and I think inappropriately, proclaimed.
I don’t really remember what made everything good again, but we now have an almost daily conversation that goes something like:
Karol: Where did I find you?
Me: On a BUS! Give me another one. That was easy.
A subtle reminder that even though she’s horrible in every way and I, like the Patriots, am way way better and hotter and undefeated, we’ll always be part of each other’s lives.
We actually have about five conversations that we have verbatim on a regular basis, which then lead to the very good “dude…why are we scripting conversations for ourselves, instead of doing something meaningful with our lives?” conversation.
A conversation which, of course, was never finished because we hadn’t scripted it yet and well, because the “on a bus” one is just way funnier.
But there are few people I could see drag racing down the street at 12 miles an hour with or drive by museum visiting…oh and congratulations about Claudio’s promotion.
Ari used to joke that she thought Fisch was dead when I didn’t write about him in more than two days, and for a good part of this year that would have been a fair guess. I can’t think of anyone that I spent more time with on mindless frivolities that somehow turned into battles to the death.
(I won the movie tonight.)
And I don’t know how I make it through this year without the months of Scrabble, TV watching, oneuppersonship and the Saw trilogy. Though, I could have done without the four hundred years of reading Games of Thrones, what felt like twenty years of watching the wire and the Dumb, idiotic two hours of watching dumb and dumber.
Fisch and I also have our routines. Every week or so we’d go to this diner out in Random Avenue Brooklyn. The place was virtually empty by three or four in the morning when we’d go, which was good because it would take him an hour to order eggs and toast in his own specifically peculiar way. The last time we were there, Fisch left to pay the check and the waitress came over to me and said “I just want you to know that watching the two of you made my day. You just seem like you’re great friends.”
I laughed, especially since he had been making fun of her handicapped leg all through the meal, but also because even though Fisch is mean and evil and says horrible things like “I trained you to be a tough nemesis who I beat most of the time,” I think the waitress had it right. At least, we are on alternate Mondays not in November or December.
After a lifetime of fighting the damsel in distress stereotypes, I am finally willing to accept some help from a stupid boy, or as I like to think of it, I decided to allow him the privilege of carrying my cases of seltzer water.
Then of course, there was Pi and pearatty who cooked for me during my postop. And Kaz and F-train and Ugarles and Mary, who came over to keep me company when I was sure my mother was trying to kill me. And Tito for making the key lime pie and Kaz for flying cross country to make me one for my birthday. And Ari for introducing me to How I Met Your Mother. And the Tom Brady jersey. It propelled them through their last two regular season games, I am sure of it. And Alceste for his unique way of making sure I’m not the most evil person in a room.
And Jake, whose email about how surgery is just the first step to wellness was something I thought about over and over.
And KJ, who, we’ll say wins Rookie Clareified person of the year for the way who really took to my training him on how to take care of my apartment. Oh, and for carrying the microwave.
Grin.
So, yes, I know my friends aren’t my family (particularly that Fisch isn’t my father) and I’ve been around long enough to know that we might not always see each other as frequently as we do now, or talk on the phone everyday…the weekly poker games are themselves already a distant memory and a few of you have already begun to fade from my life as you make new lives with your girlfriends and money pit mansions, but for this one moment in time, at least, we were friends.
And you were my world.

Quote of the Day

Monday, December 31st, 2007 by Dawn Summers

A real friend knows what you need and pretends to give it to you. – Fisch

My number one enemy…

Sunday, December 30th, 2007 by Dawn Summers

is blogging about me…but my question is why does he have more pictures of Tom Brady up on his blog than I do?

How do you say mancrush in French?

Fun with horoscopes

Sunday, December 30th, 2007 by Dawn Summers

You may wish that you were a little less sensitive these days, for others have even more impact on your feelings than usual. Don’t give too much credence to what is said now. On the other hand, avoidance of difficult issues won’t work for you either. Listen carefully, but don’t believe everything you hear.

Game? On!

Sunday, December 30th, 2007 by Dawn Summers

Alceste is the only person I know in real life who shares my obsession with televisions. Not TV shows, mind you, I remain alone and unrivaled in my television show obsession, I mean with TVs. He also is the only person I know who has a bigger flatscreen television than I do. And oh, does it eat at my soul.
So, that’s the first thing you need to know about my trip to Jersey City to watch the Patriots game at casa del Alceste.
The second thing you need to know is that KJ, who is most definitely NOT Clareified person of 2007, is an evil, horrible traitor.
Oh, and third, I now know everything about football after three hours of firing questions at Alceste.
To which he coolly responds “I only answered her questions, there’s lots more she doesn’t know.”
(The funniest moment in our exchange was me asking him what other quarterbacks wore the number 12 and him responding “I don’t know football numbers through history. I’m a dork, just not that big of a dork.”)
Okay, so you’re all caught up.
It’s Saturday night, Dawn 2 has graciously agreed to host our impromptu gathering at her house, buy us snacks AND Tivo the game in case we hit traffic and missed kick-off.
Which, we did.
We get to Alceste’s apartment building at around 9. KJ has been sitting suspiciously quietly in the backseat, his little evil face aglow in the light of his iphone.
After we park the car, and get inside the elevator, KJ says “score is 7-3…sorry, I had to tell you.”
I give him the patented Dawn Summers death stare.
He smiles.
“Just kidding…okay, I’m not kidding, but I’m not going to tell you who has 7…okay, it’s the Giants. Sooorrrrrrry, I couldn’t hold it in.”
Then I laugh, cause now I know he’s joking.
7-3 GIANTS. BAHAHAHHAHAH Yeah effing right.
“Dude. Don’t say stuff like that, I murder you.”
So, we’re laughing our little hearts out, we get inside, sit on the couch and Alceste gears up the game.
I had been amusing people all day long with my hope that the Giants would just roll over.
I would stand there, all adorable in my Tom Brady jersey, with my hands in my jeans pockets and randomly look up at Alceste and say “the Giants won’t fight this will they? They’re just going to let the Patriots get their records and nobody gets hurt right?”
And he would laugh at me and tell me horror stories about the Colts and something called Peyton Manning. Oh yeah, we have to google that right after we finish this post.
Anyway, Alceste’s TV showed the HD channels so crisp and clear, I felt like I was right there. Whenever Tom Brady would come on the screen, I’d be like “oh my gosh, I feel like he can see me…I should go change…he knows I’m not really number 12…he’s number 12…he’s so dreamy.”
And then I would wave at him and say hi Tom.
And then he would say “Hi Dawn!”
And then Dawn 2 would say “I think he was talking to me that time.”
And I would say “damn it.”
Anyway, we’re watching the game and not five minutes goes by before the Giants are at something and goal and I’m starting to think stupid KJ wasn’t lying after all.
Sure enough, I’m staring at the bad news 7-3. GIANTS.
My heart is pounding.
Where are the Patriots? I do not understand. Why is stupid Eli Manning standing there with a smirk on his face and…oh…no….how come that Giants guy has the ball and nobody is hitting him and now the Giants are in the lead again…Manning didn’t even take the field.
Grrr…Maroney…why are you dancing???
And obviously, it just got worse.
Alceste went to the kitchen to get beers and asked if anyone else wanted anything and I said “yes, can you please get me the Patriots, so that they can get in this game and beat the Giants like they’re supposed to?”
When the Giants were up by twelve and Bryant Gumbel was all blah blah blah about how Moss hadn’t caught a pass all third quarter, KJ was pointing and laughing.
“HAHAHAH…It’s because you’re wearing Brady’s jersey. You’re Jessica Simpson!! HAHAHAAHHAAH”
“Shut up, you stupid Jets fan…you like Jersey so much, I’m leaving you here.”
And he did like it. When we got there, Dawn 2 gave him chips and salsa and he was all “wow, I never get this at your house, Dawn…Alceste…can we switch Dawns? I like this one waaaaay better.”
Glare.
“I don’t care if the Patriots lose, KJ. It doesn’t matter. And whatever, we still lost less than any other team, so suck it.”
Alceste was all “heey, don’t give up. They were down 10 against Baltimore with only nine minutes…this isn’t that bad.”
“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it,” I said, ever the picture of grace under pressure.
And then…well…you know, this story has a happy ending.
The Patriots found a way to…um…oh yeah…WIN.
I’m still not sure if the most awesome play was when Brady threw deep to Moss and Moss missed and everyone was all “blah blah blah Moss should have caught that ball…what a turning point…if Moss catches that ball then New England is right back in this, but now its 3rd and long…” and before Gumbel can even finish his sentence, Brady is going deep to Moss again and Moss is jogging into the endzone. Touchdown PATS! And we retake the lead.

Or if the most awesome play is Brady then holding up two fingers to signal that they’re going for 2 and Maroney just diving into the endzone.

Or is it stupid Eli Manning throwing an interception to Hobbs. HAHAHA and the Patriots returning it for a touchdown.

Oh man, so many moments, so little football knowledge to be able to write about it. Once the tide turned and Vrabel recovered the offside…(inside?) kick, KJ was suddenly chanting for New England.
“Oh no. You’re ass is staying in Jersey. Dawn 2 will feed you chips and salsa while you root for Jersey football teams.”
“No, Dawn. Come on. Obviously I was kidding. Tom Brady is awesome. 16-0! 16-0! 16-0!”
Shut it. Call me Jessica Simpson. You’re walking back to Brooklyn, buddy.
After he paid his due penance…which involved laps around Alceste’s building, we were back in Brooklyn.
His true colors reemerged.
“How are you going to feel when the Patriots lose in the post season and they’re out,” he asked as I drove up the Parkway.
“I don’t know,” I said, “I’ve never seen the Patriots lose.”

Sweet 16

Sunday, December 30th, 2007 by Dawn Summers

moss and brady

And 0.

Suck it, Kearns.

And that’s nothing to sneeze at

Friday, December 28th, 2007 by Dawn Summers

idiot