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?”
“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.
WHAT THE HELL WAS I DOING? AND WHY THE HELL HAD I JUST PAID MONEY TO DO IT?
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.”
“He is NOT. YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW.”
“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.