Clareified

Where does the good go

Archive for January, 2009

Not so random question

Saturday, January 31st, 2009 by Dawn Summers

I wonder if Obama will pardon Mumia.

Like this is my dad?

Friday, January 30th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

I’m sorry, but you’ve got problems if the best hero you can find is a dude that throws shoes. Not to mention the guy *missed.* Just sayin.

Boys…and girls

Friday, January 30th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Never underestimate the importance of the pitch…when T-bone invited me out to Vegas to help celebrate Chris’ birthday, he put the word Vegas, right there in the subject line and reiterated it again very early in the email. Now, while he is under the gross misinformation that I play “blackjack” and “count cards” (hahahahahaahahahaha…How broke and filing for bankruptcy would I be if I tried to “count cards”? Hahahahaha), his general sense that I would be lured to Vegas for cards was right on the money. I had my tickets and hotel booked before I was even sure whose birthday it was. “Oh, right…Chris!”
Chris is the most high energy positive upbeat person I have ever met in my whole life. That honor used to belong to my high school senior class President but I saw her in a museum one day after we graduated and whoa…in like three years, she’d aged about ten, cursed like a sailor and hated everybody and everything! I was like “damn…you and I might have been friends in high school if you were like this all time.”
And so Chris ascended to the throne.
He is one of these school spirit, tear ligaments and suffer injuries for intramural sports just for the honor of it! (Yale is broken up into 12 colleges and we’re assigned one freshman year and those are your mates for life. Some good care less, some take it really seriously and then there’s Chris. His college was his life! His girlfriend was making fun of the system by calling it “Hogwarts. Yeah, Chris was in Huffelpuff and you were in Gryfindor…” Chris. Not. Amused. NO ONE MAKES FUN OF TD! (Well, you know, except the other 11 colleges.)
I hadn’t seen T-bone since graduation like 10…er…(11? (counting cards? Hahaahahahahah)) years ago, but he comments on the blog from time to time (he claims that my wholesome family blog is banned by his employer, the Oakland public school system) and he is also on the life suck known as facebook. (Seriously, join. Join now. Friend me, not Karol or Ugarles.)
The Vegas trip was to be a surprise for Chris thrown for him by his girlfriend, Jen. Now, I probably haven’t seen Chris in like five or six years, but he is such a character that as I circled the lobby of the Wynn looking for them, I heard his voice saying the word “balls” from halfway across the casino floor.
(Chris is always saying balls, or dick or turd, sometimes all at once, as in “I told that dick he could suck my turd balls.” Actually, true story, he and his girlfriend went to that Baltimore/Steelers game a couple of weeks ago (Chris is from Pittsburgh). So he’s telling me that he was riding the Baltimore fans so hard and telling them they could suck his fat dick and all this other awesome trash talking. So, Dawn Summers, being the interested in awesome trash talking football fan that I am, asks “oh yeah, what else did you say to them?” He thought about it for a minute, as evidenced by his putting his thumb and pointer fingers on his chin, and then said “yeah, that was about it. That they could suck my fat dick.”
(Okay, my blog is so getting banned by the Oakland school district now.)
So, yeah, basically, he’s your guy’s guy and T-bone is his boy.
I bought the first round of drinks and we sat down to play roulette. I employed my careful roulette playing system and managed to tread water—I maybe lost two dollars…which is AWESOME for playing roulette while sipping Jameson’s. Chris, on the other hand, put a redbird on a hard 7 AND HIT. He then hit with 28. And then his girl made him cash out and we went to play slots.
I did not know you could slip dollar bills right into the slot machines. I always thought you needed to go buy a card somewhere. You don’t. And now I know.
Chris’s buddy (everybody is his buddy!) had hooked us up with a VIP booth? Lounge? Spot? At “Pure” the hottest nightclub on the Strip.
I stared blankly.
“Paris Hilton parties there.”
Okay. I know Paris Hilton. Check.
When we got there we saw posters advertising Wilmer Valderrama’s birthday party there.
We got our hands stamped and IDs checked at the door and we were escorted to our booth/lounge/spot. We ordered “some bottles” and chillaxed. About twenty minutes later this huge burly dude came by to let us know that he was “our security” for the night and if we wanted to go “up to the roof” he’d make sure no one came into our b/l/s. T-bone and his lady were all about the tequila. The rest of us had vodka and I said that tequila was the worsest thing the planet.
“Jose Cuervo has ruined tequila for a generation.”
“Is Patron good?”
“It’s the worst of the good stuff.”
I can’t remember the name of what they were drinking…something brown in a glass bottle.
“So, where in Brooklyn do you live, Chocolate Éclair?” asked T-bone using favorite fastest way to annoy me.
I glared.
Chris’ girlfriend said “oh, that name is so cute!”
I glared again. “Yeeahhh…ccuuutee.”
(And yes, I realize that it may seem ill-advised to post that name here, however, you are all aware that I do know how to use a SAW automatic weapon, right? Okay then.)
“How do you know Brooklyn?” I asked him. (He is also from Pittsburgh.)
“I know Brooklyn bands like the Yeah Yeahs [and The Blah and the Mememememes]”
“Dude, the only music I know is Britney or Nsync, Clay Aiken and Ooh, Katy Perry!”
(Really, in trying to recreate this conversation, I can’t even plausibly pretend to recall any of the bands he mentioned. It’s like the time I tried to blog about a conversation in my car on the way back from AC. I was asking Alceste football questions and then Kearns was all “who won the blah blah rugby qualifier” and Alceste was like “oh, the Welsh Rocketmen. And you know, what’s funny about the Welsh Rocketmen…they’re actually Scottish!” And then he and Kearns laughed and laughed. And then Kearns was all can you believe the Florence Canalites beat the Sicilian rocketbottoms 2-1 in the third pitch snicket? And then Alceste was all “I know! What an upset! It’s like the time the Danish cruellers tied the Swiss butterballs 1-1 and won the cup. It’s like…what language is that!?!?! And then I declared that soccer was ghez and banned them from my car. Oh yeaah…dude, you guys are so banned from my car!)
Whoa…I digress…so anyway T-bone is talking about music I don’t care about and mocking me for playing Alanis every single day during junior year of college. (Really, I did. And then when they couldn’t take it anymore, they stole the CD out of the computer. And I got so mad, that I went to the record store and bought another one. So’s their faces.)
Ha, I’ve actually blogged about the nefarious T-bone before.
Anyway, Chris’ girl was saying how she got tickets to Britney’s Pittsburgh concert and she was going with her sister.
“It will either be the most awesome disaster ever in the history of mankind or it will be a good show.”
I concur.
I had settled on a steady of stream of vodka cranberries, when I for some, redonkculous reason, decided I wanted to “try tequila” – so I poured some in a glass and downed it.
And then I blacked out and when I came to there were three of everybody.
And T-bone was pointing and laughing.
“FUCK! This stuff is LIQUID CRACK”
That made me laugh, so I borrowed T-bone’s iphone so I could update my facebook status.
The club started to play the opening chords to Some Arrested Development song, but then they didn’t finish and I was mad. Tequila’d up mad.
“Chill, they’ll bring it back. Haven’t you ever been to a club before?”
Uhmm…does…um…Scrabble club count? Cause I go there every week, kiiiid!
It did not count.
The DJ started to play Sascha Fierce’s “Single Ladies” and Chris’ girl got up on the couch thingie in our B/L/S and started dancing.
“Hey, you’re not single,” T-bone said.
“Do you see a ring on it,” she said swerving her hips around and extending her left hand, “Do you hear the song, Chris?!”
Chris covered his face. “Yes, I hear the song.” And then I think I saw him stab Sascha Fierce to death with his mind.
I mean, not positive…but pretty sure.
We went upstairs and I chatted with the girls for a bit and then I went back downstairs and chatted with the boys for a bit.
Now, I will never repeat what either party said…but I will say this is one of my favorite pastimes…talking about the same thing with two halves of a couple. It’s so fascinating…way better than that stupid newlywed show with the cardboard.
Ok, well I will ahre one thing, because it’s hysterical and all parties involved seem to be well aware. I gathered that Chris and Jen have been going out for about the same number of years that T-bone and his girl have been dating: 3 or 4 years. So, T-bone girl said that if Chris and Jen get engaged first, she is going to cut T-bone’s balls off.
So when we were alone Chris was all “dude, you got nothing to worry about man…if I ever plan to get engaged, you’re the first person I’m calling.”
I assume so T-bone can pack his things and move in the dead of night.
Men!
I remember very little after the tequila trying…though I do remember the cab driver begging us not to let Chris vomit in his cab cause it “happened to me over New Year’s and my cab had to sit in the depot for a week.”
I was starving, so I went with the single ladies to go look for food. I had asked for a food menu at the club and was laughed at by “our security guard.” “We have alcohol; we don’t have food.”
I did not bother to point out to him that the Scrabble club offers food.
I staggered up to bed where I begged myself not to vomit in the bed cause I doubted that even the Encore would offer that kind of clean up service.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t stand upright anymore, so walking to a bathroom was so not an option.
I fell asleep around 4.
I was then up at 8. And possibly still drunk.
Okay, likely.
I decided to go to church…since I was up and it was across the street.
I do so love attending mass in Vegas…though this was the hippy church where they make you tell people where you’re from and I was still wary about opening my mouth too wide.
I felt better after mass and was singing “Here I am Lord” all the way back to my room. Where I promptly passed out again.
There I go Lord.

And Dawn Summers is out to steal another sibling

Friday, January 30th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

From the younger and obviously WAY better branch of the Ari family tree: The hysterical Eric, who writes:

1) I love words like tidbits, factoids, hullabaloo, malarkey, palaver, hijinx, shenanighans, tomfoolery, meander & hogwash. The less people use it, the more I like it. Anything old timey is fine by me! [I myself am currently attempting to bring back "groovy"...of course followed by the obligatory "maaan."-Ed.]

13) When I pass a girl on the street and she doesn’t even notice me, I don’t get upset, cause I just assume I’m too good for her. The odds are that I am. Every once in awhile I’ll follow the chick for awhile and eventually end up pushing her into a puddle or stabbing her, but hey, what fun is instinct if you never act on it, right folks!!?? Right……..???

14) When something goes wrong in my life I just stop for a minute and think about how utterly awesome I am, and then, amazingly, whatever was bothering me just doesn’t bother me as much anymore. It’s very empowering to be THIS awesome.

15) Along with the words I listed in #1, I also love the word awesome. I have to, because it’s applied to me on a constant basis. You’d think it would get frustrating always hearing people telling you how awesome you are, but surprisingly, it doesn’t.

He’s mine now. All mine. Whatever, Ari’s got an extra one.

Quote of the Day

Thursday, January 29th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Listen, the reason why I like butterscotch and you like caramel, and I prefer red wine and you prefer white, is because neither one of us would share and God wants us to be happy and get along. Plus, more for us. -Tae

Gun Play out West

Thursday, January 29th, 2009 by Dawn Summers


Sometimes what happens in Vegas ends up on my blogs.

IMG_5167

“Go get Osama for me.”
Huh?
He tilted his head to my stack of crap.
“Oh.”
I flipped through my targets and found the one he asked for.
“You got it! You did in one minute what Washington couldn’t do in eight years and two wars.”
The customer ahead of me was already on to shooting his handgun. It was so loud. No, whatever you are imagining, amplify it by 100 decibels loud. So loud, I can’t even put the word in all caps because it will hurt my ears with the memory, loud. I jumped every time he pulled the trigger. This made Luis, understandably nervous about handing me a loaded automatic weapon.
“Easy girl. We’re going to train that fear right out of you.”
I smiled. Then jumped. He showed me how to hold the butt of the gun and how to brace the nose of it while I lined up my shot by looking through the sight thingie. I was still jumping at regular intervals as my next door neighbor emptied his clip.
Luis asked me if I was ready. I nodded. Then jumped. He clipped Osama to the target and reeled him out to about halfway down the range.
“You ready, girl?”
No. Definitely. Absolutely not.
“Yeah.”
I squeezed the trigger, nothing happened.
“Oh, wait,” Luis said as he took the gun from my hand and unlatched or latched something or other, “you’re good now.”
I repositioned the gun to my shoulder.


Read the whole thing.
I mean, if you want, if you don’t that’s cool. I mean, hell with you.

Song of the week

Thursday, January 29th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Not so random thought

Thursday, January 29th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Wow, I haven’t been to California in a year and a half…I used to go every year…and I can’t begin to imagine when I’d ever have cause to go back.

Fair Warning

Wednesday, January 28th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

I was so caught up in my absolute football quiz domination (yes, pearatty, that’s your cue…it is a new year, after all) that I didn’t write about much else that happened on that trip to Las Vegas…and well, now that it has been one or three Las Vegas trips ago, I likely never will. However, as I was flipping through my photos, this one jumped out at me:

krispykreme bread pudding

The lot of us had brunch at some fancy hamburger place in the Mirage– where the measured the meat, not in quarters of pounds, like normal establishments, but in ounces, resulting in me getting the Alceste look of ridicule and damnation when I opined that I didn’t want any “stupid mini sliders” with respect to the 12 ounce burger offering.
“How much meat do you eat?”
Whatevs.
So blah blah we had our subpar burgers, then I decided to order dessert. As you are all well aware, I have been on a bit of a bread pudding kick, so the offering of a bread pudding made out of KRISPY KREME donuts (Peter, you give me my donuts back, dammit.) was too tempting to resist.
For *me* anyway, I believe Alceste and Kearns were making vomit sounds all through my ordering of it.
I had one bite of this thing when it came. It was one bite way too many. OH MAN. IT WAS SOOOOO WRETCHED.
AND GROSS.
AND DISGUSTING.
BLECH.
I still get heaves just thinking about it.
So, if you’re in the Mirage…at some schmancy sounding restaurant with ounce measured burgers…you should definitely skip the KK bread pudding.

Conversation of the Day

Wednesday, January 28th, 2009 by Dawn Summers

Karol: So he was all “how many of these facebook people do you know?” And I said I knew like 75% of them, so he opens up the first page of names and sure enough, I knew 2/3 of them!
Me: That’s 66.6%.
Karol: Oh…well, I knew 75%.
Me: That’s 3/4…wow and I thought I was bad…you suck.
Karol: I know.