Where does the good go

Archive for July, 2010


Thursday, July 29th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Okay, the vacation from my sabbatical was fun, but as I spent far too much of yesterday with the dark and twisty, I’d best retreat back into my cave before they manifest into weird dark unpleasant posts.

Plus, I know poor STB and Chilly have been real mad for the last three days! They so love me. Also, Astin and F-train seem to be under the impression that because my emails had question marks in them, that they were mere requests rather than the politely worded implied threats of violence that they really are. Boys are funny.

*Carves voodoo doll shapes of noncompliant guest blogger volunteers*

So, I bid you adieu.


Here is today’s song of the day: (Are you) the one that I’ve been waiting for by Nick Cave.

I like Nick Cave’s music a lot. But sometimes it sounds downright evil, like some reverse Gregorian chant. But this is what I’ve been listening to these days. Over and over. He’s calling me. I think his basement must be littered with the bones of the women he sings about. About whom he sings. Whatever.

Out of sorrow entire worlds have been built
Out of longing great wonders have been willed
They’re only little tears, darling, let them spill

O we will know, won’t we?
The stars will explode in the sky
O but they don’t, do they?
Stars have their moment and then they die

There’s a man who spoke wonders though I’ve never met him
He said, “He who seeks finds and who knocks will be let in”

And for your combo moment of Zen and makeup Pulp Fiction day: One minute you’re taking a dump, the next minute you’re being pumped full of lead from your own gun cause your partner has found the Lord and become a Jesus freak. And then you die.

Final birthday thanks

Thursday, July 29th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Thanks to the amazon largesse of the Jakes and baby Max and his parents (wanna see a picture of him on an airplane? No? Too bad: babymax)

I am getting a home television studio. Despite the cries and petitions being circulated by one three letter named lady whose name starts with T and ends with e and has an a in the middle, this is an AWESOME development. Hater.

When I return to blogging (uh, yeah, I’m still not back. This is an illussssiiioooonnn illllooooooooosssssssssssssiiiooon) I want to be more attentive and professional with my writing and posting, (ahem, thank you Alceste for noticing). So, we need an outlet for the lazy crazy!

Thus, we bring you Clareifeyes! (Named by this blog’s godfather, Peter, the totally not a donut stealer. )

On Liz Wheaton’s (though I think I’m more partial to ‘Eliza Wheaton’) suggestion, I’m getting a Kodak HD filmadoohickey (um? Camera?) and a tripod and remote control and extra rechargeable batteries! Wheee.)

Can anyone recommend easy to handle film editing software — preferably free and easily downloadable from the internets?

Also, what type of stuff do we want to see? I can write sitcoms, I can do reality, I can take you on tours of Brooklyn, ohhh…you can watch TV with me! Maybe I’ll do a cooking show for people who can’t cook which involves lots of mixing and microwaving. It’ll be exciting!

July movie roundup!

Thursday, July 29th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

I can’t remember if I’m supposed to be doing feel good movie Thursdays…my bosses are way slack. But here are a bunch of flicks I’ve seen in the past few weeks. The first one is crazy feel good. Well, until the cancer. Speaking of which baby Sammy is free and clear! Yay. Hey, where’s Jordan? He never comments anymore. Sigh. Racist.

The Express

This movie was AMAZING! Well, more accurately, the story of Ernie Davis, the first African-American to win the Heisman trophy is amazing and this movie doesn’t frack it up! The white coach isn’t portrayed as a do-gooder either. To the contrary, it’s obvious that he isn’t comfortable with the “negroes,” but he wants to win games and Ernie Davis WINS games! This is a story about college football, but also about race relations in America in the late 1950s, early 60s. But the movie isn’t hamfisted about it. I liked the characters and yes, they have somewhat been done before in movies like Remember the Titans and that other one about the first time black boys were picked for college basketball teams, but The Express just does it better. So don’t see those, see this one!

The Losers

I’m a sucker for Jeffrey Dean Morgan. You know this because I actually know his real name. Instead of calling him Denny from Grey’s Anatomy “Izzie cut the L-vad wire!” Or the dad from “Supernatural.” I’ve only seen him in one major movie picture though…scratch that…two major motion pictures, The Accidental Husband and the evil X-men movie…the one with Rorshach and the bloody, yellow have a Nice Day pin. Shh, don’t tell the nerds at Comic-Con that I can’t remember the name of it. Anyway, those two movies blew chunks. Oh, the Watchmen! (Ask me how I remembered? Go on ask me…okay, I’ll just tell you. Because my twitter review was “Who watches the Watchmen? Not me, I fell asleep on my couch.”) So anyway, The Losers. Here’s the premise, these guys are covert wet ops. The Government sends them in to do the killing that must be done! Then the government burns them! And they have to pretend to be dead, so they can comeback and get their revenge. So, it starts off with about twenty minutes of nonstop action, followed by 70 minutes of broody plotting and then more action. With the exception of the young loser guy who played one of the Fantastic Four, I didn’t really care for the Losers. I thought the villian Max was awesomesauce though. “You’re going to have to kill them. Or fire them, whichever is easier.” he was deliciously randomly evil. And he was very quick to shoot people. This is what I look for in a villain. The movie was fun, surprising at times and all in all didn’t embarass the genre. It is unfortunate that this movie came out at the same time as the new A Team though.

Ong Bak 2

Good gravy was this movie terrible. Most of the time I didn’t even know what I watching. Is this a flashback? A flashforward? Is this present day? Why does everyone have gross teeth? Ew. The hell? The first one was great. This muddy, grainy, boring piece of dumbassery should never have been made.

A Single Man

Let me say this upfront: there is a lot of Colin Firth butt shots in this movie. With that covered… This movie tells the story of a man whose life is spiralling into an abyss of depression and self pity after his lover dies suddenly in a car crash and because the dude’s family didn’t approve of their “light in the loafers” lifestyle, he doesn’t get to go to the funeral. So he’s sad. And struggles to get out of bed. And hates his job. Which, altogether, kind of a bring down, you know? But then they intersperse it with shots of him and his lover in happier times swimming all nakedly. Oh, um, that woman who guest starred on 30 Rock as Jack’s girlfriend from Boston was in it too. She was kind of annoying. Evidently, she was in love with Colin Firth (like who isn’t) but since he was all gay, she was out of luck and stuck marrying some other guy who didn’t love her and getting dumped after 9years and a kid. Aint that always the way? So, then some stuff happens and he wants to kill himself and then some other stuff happens and…well, did I mention the Colin Firth butt shots? Okay, then this review is done.

Cop out
Okay, I know I often say movies are terrible. It’s not my fault. Some movies are just terrible, what am I supposed to do? Lie to you? Not on my honor as an unpaid movie reviewer for an unknown, erratically updated movie blog, NO SIR! However, I want you to really, truly understand how bad this movie is. This is not your regular everyday “blah, sucked. don’t see it bad.”


This movie is a lock for every Razzie ever given for the rest of eternity times INFINITY bad! This movie is so bad, it’s like Bruce Willis said to Ashton Kutcher I bet you $5 I can make a worse movie than you have ever made! And Ashton Kutcher was like “Pshaw, NOT HARDLY, you’re on!” And I promise you, Bruce Willis went out and bought himself a footlong on Ashton Kutcher the day after this dungpile came out.


Um…I guess the guys who made this movie can claim they’ve never seen Supernatural. I suppose it is on an obscure network, with relatively unknown actors…wait, except Legion’s lead actress is a recurring character in Supernatural. D’oh. Um…well, maybe Supernatural went forward in time and stole the whole Angels bringing the apocalypse storyline from them in the future! O_o Or something. Basically, I’m a huge Supernatural fan. I liked this movie when it was Seasons 4-5 and starred Sam and Dean and the weird Angel who is funny when he’s drunk. The movie fails at humor, drama, suspense, emotions, dialogue, special effects, storytelling…did I say drama? Meh. Skip. Oh, the angel wing slicing open that one dude was cool though…and if you hated Addison Montgomery on Grey’s Anatomy or Private Practice, way bad things happen to her in this! You’re welcome.

The Preachers Kid

So…this girl…whose dad is a preacher…is a preacher’s kid. Her name is Angela King. Get it? Angel? King of Kings? JEE-SUS. Then she meets a scoundrel recording artist whose name is Stan Devlin. Get it? Satan the Devil? With the rock music? And so she all leaves home to go sing with Devlin and her father says “no, don’t do it! If you step foot outside of those doors, you are not welcome back!” O_O Yeah, that happened. And then she beds down with Devlin and does the drugs and the booze and sex. And then um…oh my god, can I tell you that there was a moment when I actually wished Tyler Perry had been involved in this movie? *Shudder* Anyway, she takes a pregnancy test, discovers she’s pregnant, realizes Devlin is a liar and leaves him to go back home. Her father apologizes and takes her back. Oh, and then she realizes she’s not pregnant after all! Yes, folks, she is so dumb she couldn’t pee on a stick. Kill me.


I thought this movie was going to be terrible. Then it got rocking reviews, so I wanted to see it. Those reviews lie. This movie is terrible. It’s dark, and weird and nothing interesting at all happens — which is a pretty damning statement given that there ARE TWO WEREWOLVES RUNNING AROUND! I MEAN DUDE! YOU HAVE MONSTERS!!! WHY AM I BORED????? EPIC MOVIE FAIL. What a waste of Anthony Hopkins and that other guy. Oh, plot? Dad became a werewolf to cure some illness he had. He took a liking to the killing. He bites son. Son becomes a werewolf, he does not take a liking to the killing. They butt heads. There is a lot of hair and saliva. And teeth. But not enough to make me care for more than five minutes.

I declared this the best hockey movie about a toothfairy that I’ve ever seen. I stand by that. Look, is this movie going to win an Oscar? No. Are you going to turn off the DVD player and ponder the deeper meaning of a hockey player sentenced to one week of community service as a tooth fairy? No. Well, maybe, but probably not. Are you going to enjoy the Rock being all Rockish and Rocktacular with his Rock self walking around and doing stuff? Yes. What more can you ask? More butt shots…but it’s a kid’s movie, they really can’t. Oh and Julie Andrews is in it! No singing, but STILL! Stop hating!

Book of Eli
Why do I never follow my instincts. Do you know what my instincts told me? Do not rent this movie! Denzel is all dusty and it’s about a post apocalyptic future and gloves don’t cover the fingers anymore…no good can come from this, Dawn! But nooo…Renty McWatchergirl had to see for herself. This movie is garbage. Though, I had an interesting discussion with a man on twitter who actually liked it, so I won’t be as brutally dismissive of it as I would be if I didn’t know there was someone whose opinion I respected that liked it. But seriously, the world goes to shit, but Jackie from That 70s show survives? And her hair looks great? Fuck outta here! Boooo.

And last, but not least

I liked this movie a hell of a lot more than I thought I would given the suckfest that was Clerks 2. Oh my god, Alceste liked Clerks 2! Liked it! I can’t even look at him any more. There was a man having sex with a donkey! AN ACTUAL FREAKING DONKEY! SMH. Anyway, Clerks was much less disgusting and retarded. It was pointless, but in a fun way and I liked the characters. The dialogue was snappy and quotable and the black and white thing wasn’t even pretentiously distracting like it usually is in modern day movies. However, no matter what Alceste tries to tell you, do NOT go rent Clerks 2.

You know how it’s fun to read my poker blog sometimes…

Wednesday, July 28th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

this is one of those times:

I’m sitting there reading and this super aggressive fly starts to get all up in our faces on my side of the table.

He’s all “buzz buzz motherfuckers buzz motherfucking buzz.” And we’re all screaming and shivering and flailing our books around and then Alceste goes all Mr. Miyagi on its ass and plucks its wings off in mid-air with ONE HAND!

IT WAS SOOO GROSSS, YET PRETTY DAMN COOL. So the fly is all wingless and crying on the floor when I accidentally step on it. So like 30 minutes later, this other fly comes to our side of the table and he’s all “where’s my brother, you assholes, where is heeee??”

And Alceste ninja-Obama smashes this one into his arm and crushes up its body in the palm of his hand! And then he goes “Excuse me, I’ve got to go wash my hands.”

OMG! Alceste is such a badass!

When the moon hits your eye… (by guest blogger Vinnay)

Wednesday, July 28th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

I’ll be honest, poetry is not my thing; I prefer short stories. Some of my favorite short stories contain lots of New England imagery, so I tried to find a poem that captured some of that.

I chose Robert Frost’s “Moon Compasses” for a number of reasons.

First, he was a Vermonter, and I lived in Vermont for my undergraduate years and fell in love with the state. Second, not only was Frost a Vermonter, but he was a friend of my alma mater, Marlboro College, and was involved in the earliest stages of the colleges existence. The library at Marlboro still has some of his original manuscripts.

Most importantly, I just really like this poem. Frost is fantastic at conveying images of nature, and when I read this piece it takes me back to Vermont where I spent so many nights staring at the sky, the
moon, and the mountains (I was an astrophysics major).

Moon Compasses Robert Frost

I stole forth dimly in the dripping pause
Between two downpours to see what there was.
And a masked moon had spread down compass rays
To a cone mountain in the midnight haze,
As if the final estimate were hers,
And as it measured in her calipers,
The mountain stood exalted in its place.
So love will take between the hands a face…

I particularly like the twist at the end of the poem that makes it all
the more beautiful as it reveals itself as a love poem.

Vinnay lives in Buffalo, New York. Which is also, apparently, a real place. He usually blogs here.

Quote of the Yesterday

Tuesday, July 27th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

or was it Sunday?

“Everybody keeps talking about Chris Bosh like he’s so great. But no one has ever seen him play! He played in Canada for SEVEN YEARS! Who the hell knows what goes on in Toronto?” – guy at my poker table

Like a fat kid likes cake

Tuesday, July 27th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

I don’t exactly remember how it all started, but knowing me it went something like this:

June 2009, Twitterland:

@realdawnsummers says Oh, my birthday is coming up. But as I am all shy and unassuming I won’t tell anybody.

@astinto says, hey @realdawnsummers isn’t your birthday coming up? I will make you a caramel cake!

@realdawnsummers: Oh you don’t have to go through all that trouble for little ole me, being that I am all shy and unassuming.

But @astinto insists! And makes an amazing superfantastic caramel cake for me, but when he tries to hand deliver it…on horseback, the mean border patrol guy will not allow baked goods to be brought into America. You know, because of the constant fear that jealous Canadians will try to poison us by capitalizing on our weakness for delicious, delicious baked goods. And so @astinto ate my delicious caramel cake all by himself. And probably gave some to the stupid cats just to spite me. Jerk.

So fast forward a year:


Oh, my gosh! For me? How did you even remember it was my birthday? I wonder what it could be?

CARAMEL CAKE! A lifetime supply of caramel cake!


Why, I am going to have me some cake RIGHT NOW!


OH NO. What the hell is this??? I have to COOK THIS CAKE? Damn you @astinto, damn you TO HAYLE! Why are you trying to have me burn my house down?? #RUDE.


Sure, the instructions seem simple enough…and no fire is required, but what the heck is this one tablespoon, one teaspoon thing? Really? They couldn’t just say three teaspoons? <_ < The last time I attempted a coffee cake in a bag, mixing project, well...actually, no need to revisit that unpleasantness. The aroma has mostly left the kitchen walls and my eyebrow has grown back nicely. But okay. I am a grown woman with TWO ivy League degrees, I CAN DO THIS! And if I can't, I will record every step and you will all see that the failure was NOT my fault, but the fault of this racist caramel cake. Here goes: Step 1: 2010-07-26_23-05-49_761
(Put cake mix in bowl.)

Step 2:


(Massage the caramel packet)

Step 3:

(Get one teaspoon of water and one tablespoon of water. You can’t see the water, but trust me.)

Step 4:


(Stir thouroughly.)

Step 5:


(Drizzle in the massaged caramel.)

Step 6:

(Microwave for 30 seconds…. yeah, I too am highly skeptical at this point.)

Step 7:


Allow to cool. (The picture makes my caramel cake look much more radioactive than it looked in real life.)

Step 8:

Enjoy! And I totally did! End product was moist and deliciously caramel cake-like!

I highly recommend this product if you are trying to amuse little kids. Like if I could do it, without burning anything or having a nervous breakdown, I figure it’d be perfect for three-five year olds. And they’ll get instant gratification. They will also probably end up fat and diabetic, but everybody has their crosses to bear, no?

Astin, also sent me the “And the Heart Says Whatever” book which Snaps recommended.

All in all a kick ass and delicious birthday package! Thanks!

Aint no birthday season like a Dawn Summers birthday season…

Tuesday, July 27th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

I didn’t even know it was a competition, but @astinto totally wins the birthday season!

I got back from my weekend getaway (I’m typing this on Malcolm and he kept autocorrecting ‘getaway’ to say ‘Jersey.’ Pretty much.) Anyway, my doorman hands me a super big box addressed to Dawn Summers! That’s me! That’s me!

And when I opened it, this is what I saw:

my first wrapped birthday present of the season!


I’ll tell you what it is later (they, actually, he got me TWO presents! Yeah, winning the birthday season takes dedication!)

However, if I’m all getting presents, the birthday season must not be over, right? So I can get in another post…or two. (Be afraid Alceste, be very afraid! Yesterday he was doing a victory dance on twitter about my hiatus. Hmph. #RUDE Also, I AM NOT A PEDO, TAE! #NOPEDO) In essence, Astin also gave you all the gift of Dawn Summers. You’re welcome.

So what should I write about but THE poker blogger champion of the world himself!

Astin and his friends Em and Chinese Pete (Please note: Ed is neither Chinese, nor named Pete. We said Astin wins at birthday seasoning and poker blogger tournamenting, not nicknaming… Though, part of me has always kinda wanted to be known as Hanoi Jane (just the name in abstract sounds cool, not expressing any views on the actions of any persons real or imagined.) and as I’m not named Jane and have never been to Hanoi, Astin might be just the man to make this happen.) were visiting my fair city last week and as they had never been to any of “the boroughs” before, I insisted on showing off my Brooklyn.

My email of proposed activities was, therefore, quite long and ambitious. I promised carnivals, museums, parks, landmarks, architecture, history, fine cuisine, fashion, dinosaurs, air balloon rides, magic, sporting events (He’s Canadian. He doesn’t know that the Superbowl doesn’t happen in July…or in Brooklyn… O_O

Naturally, he was totally in! I mean, the Superbowl AND dinosaurs! COME ON! I picked them up from their fancy Midtown hotel in the morning. It was also the morning after monkey paw wine and Mary was there all too happy to regale our guests with tales of the previous night’s shenanigans. Normally, this is where I would tell her to “shutuppa yo face,” but as I had no recollection of the evening, I too, was curious about what transpired. *Amy Winehouse shrug*

As we headed through New York’s second best borough on the way to Brooklyn, we ran into a street fair of some kind and had to take a detour. This detour took us pass “Crosby Street.” I booed. The Canadians cheered. (Note: Em is NOT Canadian. But, she has apparently been brainwashed by Canadians and pointing out that she is NOT Canadian could cause a fracture unless she is gently eased back into American life…or as we call it, “forced to live in Buffalo for a while.”)

Their cheering the cheating Crosby angered me, so I said, you like Canadia so much, you can all just walk to Brooklyn! And then I threw them out of the car. I didn’t mean Mary, but then she was all “yay! Walking is fun” and got out with them. Weirdo.

I felt kinda bad, so I decided to park in DUMBO (fake realtor created neighborhood for “the area down under the Brooklyn bridge. Or “Dumb.” Pretty much.) and went up to the bridge to find them.


Yup, they totally look like they had learned their lesson!

We strolled around the promenade area for a bit, but it was 110 degrees and watching all the dumb tourists lined up for Grimaldi’s pizza, made us hungry for real food. (Dear Clareified readers: DO NOT. UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. STAND ON LINE WHEN THE “REWARD” AT THE END OF IT IS GRIMALDI’S PIZZA! Or a Magnolia cupcake. SERIOUSLY. Promise me. PLEASE. Double pinky swear. You’re all better than that. Yes. Even you!)
So, off we go to the land of delicious pizza, DiFara’s. Now, I never know if he is really going to be open or not, so I tried not to build it up too much, cause we might very well end up at L&B and they would LIKE IT. Dangnabit.

Vinnay says this pizza ruined all other pizza in the world for him…nay all other food and now he drives 11 hours from Buffalo twice a day to get his fix! I’m SOOOOO looking forward to this!”

Well, so much for not building it up. Fingers crosssed…

BOOM! He was open. AND THERE WAS NO LINE! And then, I made the classic rookie mistake…decided to go park first. DAMN YOU, DAWN! DAMN YOU TO HELL!

By the time we got back, there was a line a sheet long and the wait was on. The hot, sweltering, standing up on the sidewalk wait.

30 minutes. Chinese Pete breaks down and goes to buy an ice cream cone.

60 minutes. I break down and buy the last slice offered in one of their stupid “by the slice pies”. I pepper it up like I like it, then realize I should offer a piece to my guests. Poor Astin gets a mouthful of pepper flakes. MAH BAD!

“Hey, there’s a guy in there who looks like Henry Winkler,” Mary says at minute 83.

I peer inside. “Dude, that is Henry Winkler.”

She goes and strikes up a conversation. I heard “EEEEHHHH” and saw lots of thumbs up through the window.

Or I imagined that. It was very hot and we were very hungry. Finally, the pie was ready and we went back to my aparment to eat it. Air conditioning! Chairs. I was totally ready to spend the rest of the day there.

“So…what up with the dinosaurs?”

Huh? What?

“And the museum and carnivals and parks?”

Look people, I gave you Difara’s! And now air conditioning and chairs! CHHHAAAIIIRRRSSSS!!!


We hop back in Prince Eli and head for the Brooklyn museum. Which I TOTALLY knew where it was, no matter what stupidfaced Mary and her judgmental tone would suggest. I’ll JUDGE YOU RIGHT IN THE HEAD! (I did mention it was very hot, right?)

There was an Andy Warhol exhibit on, so we walked through that. I planted myself in front of the exhibit called “Andy Warhol TV.” It was a TV. Showing stuff. I dunno. There were chairs and it was air conditioned. It reminded me of the time I went to the musuem with F-train and Pearatty and we got separated, but F-train promptly found me in “movie theater” exhibit. He goes “I followed the sound of the TV and figured you’d be there.” And I was!

Anyway, then we lost Mary. Then Chinese Pete, who is Korean, decided to go look at the “Asian art” floor. When he left, Astin turned to Em and I and said, “I bet when he gets back he’s gonna complain that it was all Chinese art and they only had one Korean thing and it was from the Kim Jong Il collection.” We laughed and headed up to the top floor. Where we saw this cool exhibit:


It’s Farrah Fawcett AND MICHAEL JACKSON! Separated by McEnroe! He was spared! We also went to the Egyptian exhibit where we discovered that Frida Kahlo is a dang dirty plagerist who stole all her art from some unknown Egyptian painter! #truestory Also, does anyone get scared walking through museums that they’ll unlock an ancient curse through one of the artifacts? No? Um…me neither…but Astin was TOTALLY terrified the WHOLE time! I was like “aww, don’t worry, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” But then he and Em went into the mummy exhibit and I screamed “You’re on your own!” and ran away.

You think I’m exaggerating.

When Chinese Pete came back he goes “Yeah, the whole thing is basically just Chinese art!” And Astin, Em and I start cracking up. Mary was still lost. Though, there was a pretty young schoolgirl waiting impatiently in the lobby of the musuem. But she was fawning over this little Asian toddler, so no way could it be our Mary… *Gasp* It was! (Ha! Told you, I would tell!) Mary was fawning over a chii–iildd. Mary was fawning over a chii-illd.

After that we went on a driving tour of Bed-Stuy. Em is a big Cosby Show fan, so I thought it’d be cool to see the neighborhood they were pretending that the Cosbys lived in. But then we saw a dude pretty much attack this poor girl and so I drove away very fast. Sadly, also not an exaggeration.

Next up: the carnivals! We went to Coney Island, walked the boardwalk and then *SOMEBODY* was all “Let’s ride the Cyclone.”

This seemed like a good idea right up until I had paid $8 to get on. And then we were on line. The line is caged in behind these white prison gates. I threaded my fingers through the gate holes and gripped them with white knuckled fear.


The others found this amusing.

“You can’t back out now, Dawn, we’ll all make fun of you!”

Um…you all will be dead, I thought looking up at the rickety ass, loose boards on America’s oldest, shoddiest, wooden rollercoaster.

The line snaked closer to the ride.

I want out!

“Come on. You can’t back out. The Cyclone is an American treasure. To ride it is a sign of a true Patriot,” Astin said.

Hmm. Well, it is an American treasure. And I AM a Patriot! The Patriotiest Patriot there ever was, in fact!

He’s right! If I do NOT ride this ride, the terrorists will win! Up yours Bin Laden! And then I got in. And as it clacked upwards toward the first drop, I was all “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

And then Em’s boob made a jump for it!

And then all went black.

There were tears, and screams and promises to God if he would spare our lives. He did. We said “Ha! We had our fingers crossed!”

The night ended at my favorite seafood place in Sheepshead Bay. (Don’t worry, no sheep.) We had a hilarious time listening to the life and times of Toronto’s Young and Restless. Seriously, the couples that Astin knows need a reality show. And I don’t even like reality shows! Also, Chinese Pete gave us the primer on how NOT to break up with a girl. Kinda like this.

I met up with them later that week, and despite many efforts to divert our dinner to the most excellent Times Square T.G.I. Friday’s (possibly the most delicious of all the T.G.I. Fridayseseses) we ended up at a little Mexican place in Hell’s Kitchen. Or whatever ritzy name the realtors are calling Hell’s Kitchen now. It was quite delicious! They had this guacamole made with apples, that was quite awesomesauce! But Chinese Peter is allergic to apples, so he couldn’t have any. And then I laughed at him. And pointed. I mean, honestly, AN APPLE allergy?! I got my comeuppance though later that night when the waiter brought us a free chocolate cake dessert drizzled with delicious caramel sauce, but then topped with deadly poison nuts.

Ed was all eating it and going ” Ha ha who’s got the weirdo allergy now?!”

And then I was sad. (Still him though, nut allergies are perfectly normal. In fact, three out of four people eating dinner at our table at that restaurant that night had nut allergies, so there.) I had ordered the caramel flan, anyway, and was totally stuffed, but then Astin took a bite of Em’s lemon cake thing and made this face like it was the most amazing thing ever, so even though I was perfectly satiated, I made myself take a bite of it and it totally made me overstuffed to the point where my stomach hurt. Astin and his stupid stupid face.

Oh, this was also the terrible terrible night of discovering the Canadian invasion.

It started off friendly enough…stories about how Canadian talk show hosts are perverts who molest children, and then make parents eat chocolate chip cookies with ketchup in them. And then stories about how in Canada Orange is spelled with two A-s. Arange.

And then… “Ryan Reynolds is Canadian.”


“Yah huh. And Nathan Fillion!”


“And Victor Garber.”

And then I started to cry. And they laughed. And Ed got out his phone – er sorry, his “device” or “blackberry” and googled “Dawn’s favorite celebrities are all Canadian” and proceeded to rattle off all the ways Dawn’s favorite celebrities are Canadian.

Except Tom Brady, Zac Efron and Jason Bay.

LA LA LA LA LA. I don’t want to hear the ends of any sentences.

This time for me

Friday, July 23rd, 2010 by Dawn Summers

When the birthday season ends, Dawn Summers vanishes for a bit. She must restore the ratio of hermit isolation to attention whoring. Nothing absolute, just cutting way back on the blogging, texting, tweeting, emailing, facebooking, and leaving my house-ing.

As always, I had a great birthday season. Reading this post reminded me how lucky I am to know all most of you.

But after something like five sustained weeks of the birthday season, I am even sick of myself, so we’re Desmond Tutu-ing for a bit…probably till September. Unless the Mets overtake first place in the NL…hahaha, yeah, so September.

Don’t worry, I’ve already lined up an all-star team of Poetry Wednesday guest bloggers and I’m sure Libearace will post some more production numbers. He is one talented bear. And I’ll still be your expert source on animals trying to kill us.

As for Dawn, she’ll be hibernating/hanging out with young Sammy and the people who, even when they are sick of her, are tethered to her by blood. Poor bastards. She’ll also be catching up on her movie watching and filmchaw blogging (I met the one person who reads my reviews!) Blockbuster has been all cocky these last two months, we must put it back in its place. That place being bankruptcy.

I’ve got a toddler birthday, a trip or two to AC, huffing my Droid X power source and ill-advised emotional cutting to occupy my time. Plus, a shit ton of books to get through. Angela gives quizzes. (Speaking of which, do you want to read with us? Join our invisible internet friends bookclub…no, not you, but you? Get on over here and grab a virtual beanbag.)

Enjoy the radio silence…while you can, cause it will soon be followed by lots and lots of…


And now, for your moment of Zen…

Posted without comment

Friday, July 23rd, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Unless you think O_o is commentary. Which…it might be.

Father Keith Fennessy had first agreed to sell the old building to the Muslim American Society, but the deal sparked community protests and the pastor, who signed a contract, withdrew his support.

Many residents from Midland Beach will be happy to hear – some took to the streets to keep the mosque from coming to their neighborhood.

“We just want to leave our neighborhood the way it is – Christian, Catholic,” one resident said.

“The city has had enough terrorism and everything else,” resident Debbie Benson said. “We just don’t want to take the chance, and they can’t prove to us otherwise.”