Where does the good go

Archive for November, 2010

Not so random thought

Tuesday, November 30th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Pretty sure my last conscious thought before I die is going to be “whoops.”

I am out of control

Monday, November 29th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Someone tell me no. Firmly and in a way that I will listen.

Running on empty

Monday, November 29th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Fun new post up on I Had Outs

Anyway, I decide not to rebuy and instead drive over to the mall in May’s Landing to finish blowing my non-existent children’s inheritance on 2010 tech that if I don’t get it, I WILL DIE!

My mission was a complete success and now I have the Xbox Kinect, a whole home theater entertainment system and the BIGGEST FLATSCREEN TV IN THE WORLD! VinNay can go to hell.

After confusing the third floor and the fourth floor for a minute or so, I finally collected Mary and Alceste. Everyone was up for the trip. Some in cash, some in electronics in the back of their cars. We’re swapping our war stories on the way back and playing a rousing game of Dead, Canadian, Both or Neither.

Quick: Carrie Underwood! No cheating.

I’m in the right lane because it’s dark and we’re going by those Jersey barriers I’m so scared of. I see we’re about to pass the gas station at Exit 78. But it’s a right hand exit and it’ll take too much effort to get over. I look at the gas gauge and it’s leaning on the edge of E, but the digital reader also says that I have 23 miles left of gas. That’s way enough to get to the next gas station at Exit 90. I drive on.

We keep up our banter, Alceste and Mary are yawning and tired, I am still very chipper and alert, buoyed by my savvy black Friday weekend deal snagging and night of shameful slumber. We pass Exit 85 and the digital readout now says we have 9 miles of driving left. Oh man, I’m cutting it a bit close. By Exit 88, I’m a little worried cause I don’t see any signs pointing to the gas station yet.

The hell?

I must have a really bad tell because Alceste goes “What’s wrong?”

I’m all “Well, I thought there was a gas station at Exit 90…but I haven’t seen any signs.”

“How much gas do we have…” *Insert Alceste Sigh of Extreme Irritation*

“SHUT UP! It’s NOT MY FAULT!!! I thought it was Exit 90!!”

We’re now at Exit 91. We have, according to the readout 6 miles of gas left.

Alceste is looking up gas stations on his Evo, but it says “position locator is temporarily unavailable.”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

“What should I do?? Should I pull off? Should I get on the shoulder?”

5 miles of gas left.

I push the SOS button on Prince Eli.

The BMW customer assistance guy comes on and he’s all laid back, no care in the world with his “good evening, the is BMW concierge assistance how may I help you?’”

And I’m all less laid back and calm with my


Okay, and I will admit, that sitting here, under the harsh fluorescent lights of daytime and after a good non-alcohol induced night’s sleep, I don’t exactly know why I thought running out of gas would kill us…but, I did. I imagined a fiery explosive death on the Garden State Parkway with Alceste sighing in the passenger seat and Mary laughing in the backseat.

Anyhoo…back to our tale.

“The gas readout says we have 3 miles of gas left, can you tell me where the nearest gas station is?”

“Sure, I can help you with that? Who am I speaking to?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHO ARE YOU SPEAKING TO??!!! GET ME TO A GAS STATION, WHITEY!!” (Dawn, having decided that using the phrase “Negro, please” indiscriminately is too racist, now says “Whitey,” instead. You’re welcome, America.)

So, he tells me there is a gas station in the Town of Brick Township or wherever we were and says it’s less than a mile away.

I am still flying down the Garden State because I believed a gas station had to be near! How could I have been so wrong about the Exit 90 thing?!!

BMW guy sends me directions to Prince Eli’s navigation console. However, that console had shut down 60 miles earlier when Eli first informed me that we were low on gas. As I tweeted once, when my car needs gas, navigation system is the first to go, then the entertainment system, then, or so I imagine, the car explodes.

We were long past the entertainment system working. Mary opines that the guy never bothered to send the info at all.

“You know everyone who works at that BMW call center takes the bus to work. He’s all ‘fuck that idiot Beamer driver who’s too dumb to get gas before the gauge hits empty.’”

Greeaaattt. He probably thinks that if I run out of gas, I’ll just leave the car on the highway and buy a new one! Mike Tyson style.

The car dropped down to 2 miles of gas left. AND THEN WE SEE THE SIGN:

“GAS 4 miles.”


I decide to move over to the right lane, just in case we stop. Alceste told me to slow down. “You’re burning fuel too fast at 80.”

I tried. But I was panicking too much. Speedometer hit 83. The gauge fell to 1 mile.

The next sign advertised gas in 2 miles.

Oh dear sweet baby Jesus.

The car gauge flatlined.


Where there were once numbers counting down, now there was just horizontal yellow lines running across the console.

Whooo-ooo are you? Whoo-oooo oooh ooooh

Wednesday, November 24th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

It’s the day before Thanksgiving!

This wretched year is almost over.

I get to see my beloved Patriots on my big screen TV ftomorrow for the second time in five days!

I’m actually almost kinda somewhat feeling optimistic. And optimism always makes me think of grass and outdoors and Americana and… da da da Walt Whitman.

I actually had to write about this poem in AP English in High School. It’s always tricky remembering poems I studied in school because it’s hard to separate what I really thought about it from what would get me an A.

But I do love this poem.

The fierce way the speaker is fighting for someone that has, apparently, given up on themselves. My favorite line from my “To You” essay is “The protagonist insists on paying full price, even when his love tries to sell herself short.”

I was awesome!

Sigh, would that spinning a turn of phrase reap such dividends in my current life.

Anyway, I wish you all a great Thanksgiving and despite my Debbie Downer post on my other blog, I do hold you all in the utmost esteem. Not you, you literally suck balls.

Whoever you are! claim your own at any hazard!
These shows of the east and west are tame, compared to you;
These immense meadows–these interminable rivers–you are immense and
interminable as they;

Happy Turkey Day!


by Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman To You

O I could sing such grandeurs and glories about you!
You have not known what you are–you have slumber’d upon yourself all
your life;
Your eye-lids have been the same as closed most of the time;
What you have done returns already in mockeries;
(Your thrift, knowledge, prayers, if they do not return in mockeries,
what is their return?)

The mockeries are not you;
Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk;
I pursue you where none else has pursued you;
Silence, the desk, the flippant expression, the night, the accustom’d
routine, if these conceal you from others, or from yourself,
they do not conceal you from me;
The shaved face, the unsteady eye, the impure complexion, if these
balk others, they do not balk me,
The pert apparel, the deform’d attitude, drunkenness, greed,
premature death, all these I part aside.

There is no endowment in man or woman that is not tallied in you;
There is no virtue, no beauty, in man or woman, but as good is in
No pluck, no endurance in others, but as good is in you;
No pleasure waiting for others, but an equal pleasure waits for you.

As for me, I give nothing to any one, except I give the like
carefully to you;
I sing the songs of the glory of none, not God, sooner than I sing
the songs of the glory of you.

Whoever you are! claim your own at any hazard!
These shows of the east and west are tame, compared to you;
These immense meadows–these interminable rivers–you are immense and
interminable as they;
These furies, elements, storms, motions of Nature, throes of apparent
dissolution–you are he or she who is master or mistress over
Master or mistress in your own right over Nature, elements, pain,
passion, dissolution.

The hopples fall from your ankles–you find an unfailing sufficiency;
Old or young, male or female, rude, low, rejected by the rest,
whatever you are promulges itself;
Through birth, life, death, burial, the means are provided, nothing
is scanted;
Through angers, losses, ambition, ignorance, ennui, what you are
picks its way.

Another fun Scrabble story not about me!

Tuesday, November 23rd, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Seriously, I’m getting a Scrabble blog!

Dear Gib,

Tuesday, November 23rd, 2010 by Dawn Summers

I have a BILLION dollar idea for us! And I was inspired by this story about this dude beheading his mom while chanting bible verses: We open a law firm dedicated to defending people who get caught by earthly law enforcement while fighting supernatural phenomena!

The business from Sam and Dean ALONE…

And yes, I totally know the difference between real life and TV. TOTALLY!

Christie on board with plan to extend subway into Jersey

Tuesday, November 23rd, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Well, sasat. I don’t want any more parts of my fine city touching your dirty state. You want to be more connected to us? YOU PAY FOR IT!

I’m going! That’s all there is to it!

Tuesday, November 23rd, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Do you think Jules is chilling in Amsterdam right now?

Terry Collins takes over the Mets

Tuesday, November 23rd, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Personally, I’d still prefer Bill Belichick and a video camera. But whatevs.


We need our own Derek Jeter from circa 1996. Not this old washed up Derek Jeter.

Please and thank you.

Oh, and where are my manners: Congratulations AND WELCOME!


Mets ’11!

Look, traffic circles are hard

Monday, November 22nd, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Americans fight implementation of roundabouts.

Traffic is going in circles. Armed with mounting data showing that roundabouts are safer, cheaper to maintain and friendlier to the environment, transportation experts around the country are persuading communities to replace traditional intersections with them.

Appearances notwithstanding, roundabouts, such as the one in Mt. Rainier, Md., are not the same thing as rotaries or traffic circles, experts say.
There’s just one problem: Americans don’t know how to navigate them.

“There’s a lot of what I call irrational opposition,” said Eugene R. Russell Sr., a civil engineering professor at Kansas State University and chairman of a national task force on roundabouts, sounding mildly exasperated in a telephone interview. “People don’t understand. They just don’t understand roundabouts.”