Where does the good go

Archive for February, 2011

Ell Oh Ell

Monday, February 28th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

via Ken Wheaton


Sunday, February 27th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

Apparently, when I try to write posts for money I am an epic failure.

There goes yet another dream down the tube. Now, I’m too depressed to write blog, so you’re going to get this. You can all thank Alceste for his soul crushing “that was the worst thing to appear in print on any of your blogs ever” assessment. And considering that he was also the one to tell me to “enjoy your shallow grave,” that I remember the critique of my writing more tells you something.

Anyway, remember how I told you about my mother and her teleshopping problem? Well, today she came over with her friend to “bring some things.” I can’t even begin…I…just take a gander:

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New hanging silverware. Because she lost one of the forks from the last hanging silverware set she bought me. When I put all the silverware in the dishwater, she yelled at me because “no, you’re not to use those! They’re just in case.”


Are there silverware emergencies that I don’t yet know about? Are entire civilizations brought to their knees because at a crucial juncture a spoon could not readily be snatched from the silverware rack? Moving on…

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A combination mixer and blender because…um…I dunno.


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A twenty piece Wolfgang Puck stainless steel pot set which can also be used in the oven up to 450 degrees. You know, for all the cooking and baking I do.

Bringing us to:

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Matching stainless steel big forks and spoons. For stirring. And sticking in things? Or entertaining giants?

And now…here I’m a little concerned that my mother’s “Clarefield” act is a charade and she’s totally been reading my blog, we come to…

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A brand new coffee maker!

I made a cup. It was a bazillion times better than the easy bake oven coffee, but still weak. I may have to accept the reality that it may be the Folgers’ fault. But I like vanilla coffee! *dispatches waaambulance*

But we’re not done yet. For the bathroom, she replaced my Dial handwashing soap with…

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An automatic soap dispenser! So, I thought this was cool…but now I’m not so sure it’s obvious that the soap is in this thing. What do you think? Do I need to put up a sign? Not that anyone visits me here, but still. If they did, I don’t want them not washing their hands.

But I digress…let’s continue with the parade of goodness:

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Bed ruffles? 12 bed ruffles? What? I have two beds. Neither of them will EVER be ruffled.

Um and then there’s…

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An under the bed shoe organizer? Um. I got nothing. And just when I thought I’d seen it all… that there were no more questions I could possibly have…

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My mother beats me yet again.

Well played, Joyce Summers. Well played.

Shopping trip

Saturday, February 26th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

Me: I’m looking for a Mets cap…
Salesman: Ooh… We have lots of Yankees caps.
Me: *makes vomit sound*
Salesman: Giants?
Me: O_O
Salesman: Jets?
Me: Please don’t make me stab you.
Salesman: We have a nice sixers cap. It’s red and matches your hoodie!
Me: I don’t even know what sport that is. Do you have a Mets one or not?
Salesman: Let me check… Oh yeah, here you go.
Me: O_o

You, me, I…whatever

Friday, February 25th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

I’ve been down this road before
Walk out the door
Leave you on the floor
Sometimes you run and hide
Your foolish pride’s
What keeps me from giving you more

So the best thing
I can give to you
Is for me to go
Leave you alone
You got growin up to do

But I can’t think of what else to try

That’s why the best thing
I can give to you
Is for me to go
Leave you alone
You got growin up to do

Have a good weekend

Back to Harrah’s

Friday, February 25th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

Twice a year, Harrah’s offers a $60,000 freeroll tournament for regulars who have logged upwards of 150 hours of raked poker in a three month period. At almost the halfway point of the qualifying period, I have less than 20 hours to my name, I headed down on the first snow less East Coast morning to change all that.

I haven’t been to Atlantic City on a weekday in a long time; I’ve been doing daytrips on Saturdays with my friends who have jobs.

The weekday poker scene at Harrah’s is a whole different vibe. The freeroll encourages the regulars to do all their grinding in one poker room. I recognize almost half the crowd. There’s the silver haired man who smokes those fake cigarettes advertised on late night TV. He looks like the Hollywood version of a Vietnam vet. When he calls my middle position raise from the Big Blind, I know my nines are in trouble…even before I see the ace on the flop. He knows me too though, and he’s happy to follow my lead and check it all the way down. His kings win the pot. There’s the black guy who only comes here to get hours for the freeroll; he’s some kind of African royalty if his rants at the floor guy are to be believed. He also has a knack for taking my chips in spectacularly dirty ways. So, that he stacked me with a turned set of fours against my flopped top pair of kings, didn’t surprise me in the least. I don’t take poker seriously until the second or third buy-in anyway. And then it’s off to play slots.

By all rights, the Harrah’s poker room should have a window. It’s set right off the boardwalk, well, *a* boardwalk to be precise, since Harrah’s is on the Bay side of Atlantic City, near the Borgata. Instead, the burgundy room is adorned with enlarged photos of previous WSOP Circuit winners.

During the summer months, the smokers disappear past the bathrooms, through the glass doors and indulge their oral vice with waterfront views and then race back inside to catch the next hand.

I play in Atlantic City regularly and Harrah’s is as close as I come to having a “home casino.” The room is split into two sides. The largest part, about the size of a ballroom, has about twenty tables for cash games. Harrah’s spread most everything, ranging from $2/$4 limit to the newly instituted Stud 8/OE mix game. The smaller section is reserved for the daily tournaments. Those buy-ins range from $40 for the 10:15 AM tournament to $105 for the night games on the weekends. I’m a cash girl junkie myself, so I mostly grind at the 1/2 game waiting for the bust outs to fill the table with their bad beat stories, tilt and fistfuls of chips not to mention all the online slots.

Today’s offering from the tournament Gods included the Village Idiot, so named because he’s dumb and spreads his chips evenly around the table in a lengthy string of awful calls, which are accompanied by equally awful explanations of said calls. Case in point: After rivering two pair to snap off pocket jacks, he says
“Oh Gosh! I had 94 and I called $15 preflop! I didn’t even really notice that you raised! Although I would have called anyway because anything can win in this game, you know?”

Oh yes. And when he paid off my flopped boat on the KsKh9h (I had pocket nines) because he was chasing the flush with his Qh2h. I nodded sympathetically with him when he lamented that he “couldn’t get away from that hand no matter what I bet!”

The dealers at Harrah’s are probably the best in Atlantic City – although they’ve lost a fair chunk of their staff to the new casinos which opened in Delaware and Pennsylvania. The waitresses come frequently, there’s a great food court and you can usually get comped rooms for a couple of nights during the week.

If you know which players to steer clear of (mostly me) it’s a great place to play!

Poker survivor!

Thursday, February 24th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

I’m still alive in the Buddy Dank/Julius Goat Survivor Island poker challenge.

Basically, there are two teams of 8, team fish and team donkey, we play in bi-weekly online poker tournaments, in one of the whichever team lasts the longest gets immunity, loser has to vote off a member. Sadly, my team fish isn’t doing as well as you’d imagine fish would do on an island. I mean, honestly! How is team donkey up three members on us already??

The latest team fish guy to be voted off, Hoy, thinks we’re doomed now that we’ve eliminated him -our best player, naturally. Meh, he may have won our only immunity week, but I’d still prefer to get Riggs or Al back. Speaking of which, where is Riggs? The last time I saw him was in an Atlantic City casino?

Actually, I’d been out of the loop for the first couple of weeks (contrary to Hoy’s insinuation that everyone is taking the game more seriously than he is) and when I saw Riggs and Al go, I was certain that I was next, some kind of anti-NL East vendetta running rampant through team fish. But I managed a nice AK v. KJ victory against wolfshead to essentially knock him out of last night’s mookie and win a personal immunity. I was also the only team fish member at the final table, but my jacks were no match for Ace Queen sooted and we lost immunity to team donkey for the third week in a row.
However, I had tons of fun last night because I got to participate in the companion Buddy Dank radio show via the chat room, where I am not yet banned. (Don’t worry, I’m working on it.)
I got him to add Miley Cyrus as an artist in his library AND play Party in the U.S.A on air! Totally worth the price of admission!

And I got to hear Astin’s Julius Goat persona. He totally speaks English! Just one more in the litany of Astin Goat lies.

I guess this is where I should plead with my teammates for my life, should we fall to the stupid donkeys again… Um… Please don’t kill me. You don’t want people calling you racist, do you? Also, you are all very pretty. Hey, have you lost weight? I thought so! You look fabulous.

See y’all on the virtual felt of the online casino Sunday.

Not so random thought

Thursday, February 24th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

The only time I ever feel truly crazy is when I try to figure out what other people are thinking.

Or when I ask them.

Or when I don’t know.

*Puts the chain on the door*

*Slides a heavy desk in front*


*Makes popcorn*

Who’s coming with me to Tibet?

Wednesday, February 23rd, 2011 by Dawn Summers

9 best places to be a recluse

Winning the baby shower and other things I did last week

Tuesday, February 22nd, 2011 by Dawn Summers

The day before the shower, Amanda drove down to make the desserts and eat DiFara’s.

It was a Saturday night, so I took my time getting there since I figured the place would be packed. Imagine my surprise to find Pi and Amanda seated at a table, while Peih waited at the counter for the first pie. Yes, four people equals two pies when one of them is seventeen months pregnant. The place was empty and not at all brutally hot.
So this was my defining DiFara’s moment. The last three times I’ve had it, I was disappointed, but I kept making excuses. I was tired from standing too long; it was cold; I shouldn’t have gotten slices… But here was a pie, fresh out of the oven, served to me while I was seated, and it was still just okay.

To be fair, it was a sicilian and I don’t…no! No more excuses! It’s just not as good as it used to be. Heck, I don’t even know if I’d say it was even good. *Dodges lightning bolt*

Something changed and not for the better.

Incidentally, DiFara’s, once shutdown for a month due to health code violations, now proudly boasts an A grade from the Department of Health. Leading me to wonder if my joke lo those many years ago wasn’t the truth. “Look, DiFara’s is deeelicious. If mouse droppings are the secret ingredient, they’re the secret ingredient. Whatre ya gonna do?”

After dinner, we went back to Pi mansion to and I quote “have fun.”

30 minutes and forty hand washed champagne glasses later, I announced that clearly no one in the mansion understands what the word “fun” means.

“Let’s play Risk!”
“No, it gets too competitive,” Pi says.


Dude, you do understand that Amanda and I are competing in “baby shower,” right now, yes?

So we decided to play this thing called Settlers of Catan.

It took an hour to get out of the box, another hour to assemble and then forty minutes for them to re-explain to me what the hell the goal was.


The goal is to get lots and lots of ore. And steal your neighbor’s sheep. I was good at that part. #races

I also builded roads good! #stillraces

We had the NBA slam dunk competition on in the background. I started to tell them about the racist CNN article hyping the all-star game as “Black Thanksgiving,” but instead of sharing my outrage, they were all “Huh. Yeah, that makes sense. Happy Thanksgiving, Dawn and Amanda.”
My little Chinese nephew is going to be so racist.
I went home and was instructed to be back at 5 a.m. for setting up.

I laughed. A lot.

The next morning, at the perfectly respectable hour of 11 a.m., I walked over there from my house. Oh, and how did I manage to get out of bed, walk to the hallway and then faceplant into the floor? Who finds a way to slip and fall on carpet? #Thisguy My arm still really hurts! And my knee. Waaa.

Anyway, I brought over the fancy Trimbach Riesling that Grange recommended. It was awful. I tweeted that and the company tweeted back that it was probably a defective cork issue. I responded that they should give me a free bottle then. No reply.

Anyway, since I walked to the party, I felt quite comfortable drinking as much as I wanted. Ooh, you know what my new favorite thing is? Lagavullin. Or Lavagullin. Something with an L and an ullin. It tastes smokey. “I think you mean ‘peaty.'” – Pi.

Then Amanda was all “you were supposed to be here at FIVE! Why are you drinking already?!”

If anyone asks, the Amanda/Dawn rivalry began when upon discovering I was allergic to peanuts, she decided to rub a fistful on my arm “just to see what would happen.”

It’s the best place to start because you immediately know that she’s the villain and should never triumph. Plus, she drives a porsche and lives in Connecticut! Oh, and she’s mostly Republican!

After I easily beat her in the head bridesmaid battle of aught eight, she’s been totally out to get me.  (I do so love the word aught.) During the baby shower planning brunch, I made one request! ONE! No damn hell ass coconut cake. And I wanted madeleines. So two. Two little requests!

And did I get madeleines? No. No I did NOT! Instead, there was coconut almond cake and Chocolate cupcakes! Arrrrgghh.

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“This is war, Amanda! I will now turn this baby against you! Whatever he hates, I will tell him, YOU invented it! ‘Aw, did the doctor stick you with a needle and hurt you? Aunt Amanda told her to do it.’


Pi was all worried that no one was going to come to her shower, which is just plain silly. Free food and open bar wins every time.

I got there early enough to bogart the TV for the Rangers game. This was the day a dozen little children learned the phrase “Come ON, Rangers! You’re kiiiiilllllliiiinnnnngg mmmeeeeeeee.”

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(I was about to tweet that photo to Al Can’t Hang…when it all went to hell.)

Seriously, children repeating what you say equals immediate hilarity.

Five year old girl: So now we don’t like them?
Me: No, we still like them. But they have to sit in the time out chair.
FYOG: And think about why they were bad.
Me: YES! They need to think about why they are so bad.

After passing on the Rangers tradition of losing to the next generation, it was on to corrupting them.

One of Pi’s friends brought her daughters in matching white dresses. She was telling the older one to be careful to not get herself dirty. O_o

“But if you don’t get dirty, how will you know you had fun?!”

As the kid stared at the chocolate cupcake in her undersized hand, I could see mulling the truth of my assertion. Her mother read the same expression.

“Don’t listen to Dawn, she’s just being silly. Now sit carefully.”

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To me she said “you clearly don’t have children,” and glared.

I was about to respond, when the mother of the little boy I taught the “we want pie” chant in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner last year said “oh, kids LOVE Dawn. She’s fun.”

It’s true. They do. I am. But honestly! “Don’t get dirty?” THE HELL? Fact is little kid clothes should come in two colors “dirty” and “stained.” Dude. *My* clothes should come the same way! Who needs the extra pressure?

The party was fun, I guess. I have calculated that I can handle a room full of strangers for exactly 1 hour and 59 minutes. Two hours and 59 minutes if there is a sporting event involved. It was a co-ed shower, so Peih’s friends were there too.

“So you know that guy that tried to give a funnier toast than me at your wedding…”

“He did give a funnier toast than you at my wedding.”


“No, your toast was very funny too, but…”


“Okay, yep, the guy that tried to give a funnier toast than you at my wedding. His name is Josh.”

“No, his name is second funniest toast at your wedding guy. KEEP UP!”

Anyway, I told the guys to give me a manly pose, this is what they came up with:

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I am so going to be the strong male role model in my Chinese nephews life.

I was watching the Chicago hockey game when Amanda came out and was all “I should have known that on Black Thanksgiving, you’d be out here watching hockey.” And then she shook her evil head at me.

“‘Poor baby, are your teeth hurting? Aunt Amanda is making them do that!'”

Around 5, I wasn’t the only anti-social person dying of society. Amanda and Vatnak joined me in the kitchen and we plotted how to make the rest of people leave with starting an actual fire.

“We could just tell them there’s a fire.”

Finally, the last guest left around 6:30. That’s when we opened all the presents! The very first gift was a glow in the dark thermometer for the baby’s room. Now, I realize I don’t have children, so the importance of keeping the child’s room at a temperature that can be discerned in the dark is lost on me, but… um O_O

And after my ten minute rant on the usefulness of a glow in the dark thermometer for the baby’s room, (I mean, it’s not a thermostat, you can’t adjust the temperature with it, all you do, is walk into the dark baby’s room and go “65 degrees. Okay!”) Pi was all “and this is why we couldn’t open the gifts with people here.”
#Truestory #Dawnisajerkface #BUTCOMEONATHERMOMETER?!

Most of the other presents were awesomely adorable though:

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(I do NOT approve of the decorations.)

At the end of the night, of course, we break out the Risk board:

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I was blue. Look at that world domination! Look at it! I controlled Asia AND Australia. How did I lose??? HOOOWWWW??? Ugh. And yes, it was super competitive. Pi’s cousin and her boyfriend played with us and I felt so bad cause they had NO idea what they were in for. Oh, and because I’m not officially a bad influence until…

I started the “baby will be born on” pool. I put five bucks on March 8th. Mostly, we’re all just hoping she clears this month so we don’t get one of those weird February babies.



Not so random thoughts

Saturday, February 19th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

1. In the entirety of my life, I have only ever done whatsoever was easiest.

2. Settlers of Catan can bite me.

3. Stuff I’ve put horseradish mustard on in the last 24 hours:
a. Breadrolls
b. Turkey slices
c. Bell peppers
d. Bordeux cookie
e. Cheese
f. A spoon

4. I’m over DiFara’s pizza.