Where does the good go

Archive for January, 2010

Global threat!

Friday, January 22nd, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Tiger eats Canadian guy. Not Woods, the animal.

Not so random thought

Thursday, January 21st, 2010 by Dawn Summers

If I can’t find a permanent job, I’m going to roam the countryside prop betting people that I can’t solve the Rubix in under five minutes. I just need the next five steps.

Television Thursday

Thursday, January 21st, 2010 by Dawn Summers

There are few words able to get me to watch a new television show: written by Joss Whedon, starring Dylan McDermott and “a Gilmore Girls for the new decade.” Ok, that’s a lot of words. But so it is I came to DVR the new show “Life Unexpected.” The last one. It is not written by Joss nor does it star Dylan. I liked it! Not at all what I was expecting…blond girl from two dark haired parents always gives me pause. It involves A LOT of white people…but it’s set in Portland, so…what are you gonna do. Basically, a 16 year old foster kid tries to get emancipation, but she needs her birth parents’ signature. Once she gets them, the judge is all, well, if you’ve got signatures, you’ve got birth parents: No soup for you and sentences the girl to the joint custody for former high school paramours who havent spoken in 16 years. Hijinks. Something. We’ll see.

New Chuck. Ok, the new Chuck 2.0 isn’t *the worst* he still needs to flash before he gets all super spy…but his whiny voice irritates me and I can’t stand the will they/won’t they with Sarah. Enough already. She is WAY out of his league! End of story. Bring back sandwich girl, so she can leave Ted Mosby alone.

How I Met Your mother: How awesome was the Barney musical?? HONESTLY!!!! I hate that it looks like “the Mother” is going to be a blond. Sigh. Still held on to the hope it was gonna be Robin.

30 Rock. This new hypersexual Liz Lemon has GOT to go.

Parks and Recreation…is still airing? Why?

Teachable moment

Wednesday, January 20th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Gather round kids: Here’s a tale from our good friend Astin, who lives in the Mexico of the North:

I’m easily distracted.
This can be a problem when preparing dinner.
Like last night.
I decided I’d pull out a steak for dinner. The thing about deciding this at 6pm is that it needs to thaw somehow. On goes the oven, out comes the cast iron and foil. So, with the steak thawing in a warm oven, I pushed back the unit and got to work. Cables hooked up, testing commenced. Hmm… that isn’t working. Try something else. That works. But why not the other? Back to the other… still not working. Figure it out and stick with the second option. But now the remote needs to be reprogrammed. And while I’m doing that, there’s those other things I wanted to fix on it. Wasn’t I doing something else?
SHIT! Steak! 2 hours later!
Waste of a nice piece of meat… sigh.
So comes together a marinade. Vinegar, horseradish, dijon and smokey mustard, ketchup, hot sauce, honey, worcestershire, sundried tomato + hemp pesto, oil. Steak gets sliced and dumped in. Inside is still red at least.

So to recap, Astin’s “wasted” meat is prepared with homemade marinade.

In Dawn Summers’ America, wasted meat has burned to a paste of charcoal at the bottom of her one good pan as the neighbor is reassured that calling the fire department is unnecessary.

Oh, and also, in North Mexico, remote controls are evidently plugged in.

I want to go to there.

The first life fail story of 2010

Wednesday, January 20th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

I had a job interview yesterday. I thought it went terribly, however, I’ve been informed that I got a callback, so goes to show what I know.
Part of the reason I thought it went badly was because very shortly after the interview started, this guy starts asking me about the geopolitical ramifications of the U.S.’ Debt to China.
I know, right?
And no, I wasn’t applying for Secretary of Homeland Security.
Once I got through that conversation, he asks me what I did for fun.
“Play competitive Scrabble” is my go-to response and usually results in an opportunity to chat about how so and so’s wife is amazing at Scrabble or how one time, he swallowed a tile because he was hiding the blank under his tongue to teach his sister a lesson. True story.
This guy, however, could not have been less interested.
“Hmm. You reading anything?”
“Um. Yeah, I just started a novel called the Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival.”
“Huh. What’s it about?”
“Um. So far…a disillusioned priest in Lousiana, who gets assigned to a crappy parish in the sticks.”
“Is he a pedophile?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Ok…anything else?”
“About the book?”
“No, do you do anything else for fun?”
Oh, you mean besides talk to you? Cause this, Sir, has been Fan-Tastic!
I didn’t say that last part.
Oh! But, um (shout out to HIMYM fans) in case you were wondering: the geopolitical ramifications of our debt to China are “troubling.”
You’re welcome.

Ohhhh… Captain!

Wednesday, January 20th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Jake Tapper kinda yelled at me yesterday on Twitter.
Though how he even found my tweets, I’ll never know.
The subject matter? He tweeted a three parter about how the Emancipation Proclamation didn’t really free the slaves. This prompted my patented snark that if Tapper is just now realizing that 1. He needs to get his money back from his college and/or high school. 2. Somebody should tell him that despite how it looks to the naked eye, the Earth is actually rotating around the sun. I know, I know, I am awesome. But evidently, it was President Obama’s decision to hang the Emancipation Proclamation in the White House which prompted Tapper’s history lesson. I think. Anyway, in light of all this, I thought this week’s poem should be Walt Whitman’s famous ode to Abraham Lincoln, the writer of the famously misnamed Emancipation. See, Lincoln is the Captain of the ship, aka President of the United States. And once the prize was won, winning the Civil War and reuniting the two halves, poor Captain was shot in the head, fallen cold AND dead! (I personally hate this poem. For petty petty reasons.)

O Captain My Captain by Walt Whitman

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.


O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.


My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Sooooo Soorrrrryyyyy

Tuesday, January 19th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

I totally jinxed the Senate race in Massachusetts! And while I was doing it, I knew I was doing it, but I was all “naaah, it’s *Massachusetts* what could POSSIBLY go wrong?

In happier news, can we strip Senator Douchebag of all his leadership positions, punch him in the groin and send him on his way now? Please?

You’ve got questions

Monday, January 18th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Dawn Summers has answers.

Happy Birthday, Ugarles

Monday, January 18th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

I randomly ended up at Gentrification Manor for football Saturday this weekend. I got to catch up with the ECB’s cutest baby genius, his lovely parents and their killer face-eating cat.
I arrived when Sid was out on a walkabout nap with mom extraordinaire, Zinester, so by the time he came home he was all rested and ready to wow me with all the new skills he’d learned since I met him this Summer. First, he is now a master peekabooer. He covers his face with his hands and then like two seconds later does the suprise, wide eyed mouth open “here I am” face and then laughs and laughs. Which made me and Ugarles laugh, so he’d keep doing it. The Saints game was on in the background, but as they were routing the crap out of Arizona, we paid much more attention to Sidney playing with his toy Saints football. It’s this very cool palm sized fuzzy ball that when it hits the ground says various Saints related phrases like “Touchdown Saints” “whodat” or plays the “saints go marching in” song.
I so want a Patriots one…but I have no idea what it would say besides screams of key players as they tear the ACL or maybe Belichick torturing baby kittens.
So Sidney would throw the ball down and do a little dance…he has already perfected the “in your face” face for when he beats his defender and dives into the endzone to score a touchdown for the Patriots.
What? Shut up.
At one point, he threw the ball and it landed at the bottom of the laundry basket. He looked at it, then looked at us. I then bet him a can of coke that he couldn’t get it out. He readily accepted the challenge! (Awww, baby’s first prop bet.) So he got to the ball, but then he kinda also ended up inside the laundry basket himself. Which, um, we all found hilarious. I was all taking pictures and his parents were laughing.
Not. Amused.
I then attempted a rescue, completely successful, but for the mild concussion caused in the final extraction from the net.
Look, I’m just leveling the playing field a tad for his peers. As he is already reading and hammering at a second grade level, no way will they be able to compete with him, if I don’t botch a few a rescue operations. Oh, and my favorite part of the night: So Sidney is sitting on Ugarles’ lap and I do my patented perfectly normal Dawn Summers wave (the one Kearns loves so much) and I go “Hi Sidney.” And Ugarles is all “don’t do that…it’s…um…not what normal people do.” Then at dinner, like an hour later, he totally steals my wave! It’s Elvis all over again, people!! You’ll get yours, Chugarte, when I give that kid a drumset on his fourth birthday! But for today, the best of wishes and happiest of birthdays and thanks for tricking me into hanging out with your empty promises of “AFC football!” Oh, and tough break on the SAT! You were totally robbed.

Pearatty’s totally a caker!

Sunday, January 17th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

She had a dozen vanilla/vanilla cupcakes delivered to my apartment this morning! Just when Ugarles thought Sidney had the three-peat all locked up.