Where does the good go

Archive for the 'It’s hard being this awesome' Category

Fear, itself

Tuesday, December 27th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

A couple of years ago, I was eating pancakes with Alceste and Mary at the awesome pancake spot in Jersey City. We were on our way to read books to blind children in the Air Conditioned City. About 40 minutes into the drive, I noticed I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. The car was drifting and there was no awesome Poddy playlist or gossipy topic of conversation that could help. I pulled over and asked Alceste to drive.

I didn’t think anything of it, until it happened again. And then again. Anytime I’d eat anything sweet and delicious foodstuffs, I’d just about pass out thirty minutes later. I cured my insomnia with a bag of cookies every night.

About a year after that, a new symptom emerged. Tingling in my fingers and toes — this worried me. My grandmother had diabetes and my mother is pre diabetic (whatever that means) tingly toes SO sounded like the yellow brick road to foot removal. And then I googled it.

Sad panda.

Now, of course, the prudent thing would have been to go see a “doctor.” Instead, I decided that since google said it was *probably* diabetes, I would just go with that. Shut it.

So, what did your brilliant, double Ivy-League degree having hero do with this self diagnosis from Google M.D.?

Did she start eating vegetables and exercising? Oh no, of course not. THAT might have made sense. *YOUR* hero, on the other hand, decided that she would eat ALL the sugary, baked and frosted goods that she could BEFORE she eventually went to a doctor and got an official diagnosis. *AT WHICH POINT* she would start eating healthy and exercising… but UNTIL then, she would “enjoy” life. I stuffed my face with junk food, suffered painful extremities, and food comas for like a year and a half.

I got into a groove of living slightly better this year and finally went to see an actual doctor in November. And, seriously, I don’t know how people who smoke handle going to the doctor because OH MY GAWD the judgy looks you get when the doctor is all “and how long has this been going on” and you’re all “um…two years…give or take.”


I could NOT handle whatever looks they must give smokers.

So, I do the diabetes tests and it turns out that I don’t have diabetes, but I have a severe B12 deficiency which was causing pretty much ALL of my health maladies during the last few years from the tingling fingers to the insomnia! Dude. Seriously, I would have just died on the spot if I were born in the middle ages. Or in China. What with my allergies and asthma and vitamin deficiencies.

Oh, but my point… and I did have one… just go to the damn doctor, people.

I SO almost killed myself like this on Friday!

Sunday, June 26th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

I’ve probably got to go register at a police station now because I am so funny.

Gazing in a naveluar direction

Wednesday, June 15th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

1. Making up words should be encouraged, especially if it’s quite clear what you mean when you use it AND it’s equally clear you aren’t just thinking of another word. I call that the Palin clause.

2. In deciding whether to watch the Mets game or the Stanley Cup Finals, it dawned on me that my watching either will have no effect on the outcome of either. Then I began to wonder what the point of watching any sporting ever is and decided to blog instead.

3. No one ever tells me the random things they remember about me, clearly this is a weird thing to do and I should stop.

4. I think it’s funny when I use mathematical terms for narrational purposes, but others assume that they have mathematical meaning. It reminds me of the time a man at the Borgata got all mad that his flush had been beaten by a higher flush in two pots less than fifteen minutes. After the second loss, he angrily pushes his chair away from the table and yells “what are the odds of two flush over flush hands in one orbit?” And when someone unhelpfully answered “7:1.” He goes “Huh? What are you talking about?”

5. Luther Vandross was a good singer. He should have had a bigger career. No pun intended.

6. I have a weird callous on my right hand. Like super weird. It kind of has a face.

7. It’s good to have people that you’re never too drunk to text.
7a. It’s good that when you’re drunk you know who those people are.
7b. Cellphones have no place in bars.

8. Now I’m just rambling.

9. That’s right. Thoughts prior to number 8 were NOT rambles. Ramblings.

10. No, YOU’RE WEIRD! #rude

I can’t decide which video is the cutest, so…

Wednesday, May 11th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

YOU’RE. WELCOME. Also, I’m loving how this “impromptu appreciation of people I know” blogging has revealed who doesn’t read my blog. #rude

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Two minutes in Dawn Summers’ mind

Tuesday, April 19th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

Me: It’s not fair that $300 is a lot of money!

My last remaining sliver of rational responsible thought: It’s not fair, it just is.

Me: memememe

MLRSORRT: Real mature, Dawn. You’re poor. The sooner you accept it, the better off we’ll all be.

Me: I could put it on a credit card! This bill wouldn’t be due until like June! I find $300 extra dollars by June! What if the Rangers never make the playoffs ever again in my lifetime?

MLRSORRT: The Rangers are not going to let you live with them when Citibank forecloses on your apartment…right?

Me: Hmm…I dunno. I bet the European ones don’t even really use their New York apartment!

MLRSORRT: Or like one of the new ones from the Midwest! They probably don’t know anyone in the City and would love a roommate for the summer.

Me: Yes! That is perfect.

MLRSORRT: You’d be doing them a favor, really.

Me: I know! Good talk, good talk.

Dawn versus the machine

Monday, February 14th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

First of all, I assure you that I totally know how to make coffee at home. I’ve been doing it since I was two…this exercise has just been *theater* to entertain my readers! I mean honestly, who doesn’t know how to make coffee? Plus, my grandparents were born in Colombia, so I super duper know how to make coffee! And how to kill you five different ways with a machete.

Okay, so now that we are all on the same Dawn-is-a-fully-functioning-coffee-maker-in-society, let’s follow her awesome learn how to make coffee at home adventure. I mean, learn again, cause she forgot a little bit from her ample toddler coffee making experience. Oh, and speaking of toddlers, all of my fake nephews failed “Having a spinster fake aunt 101” today and now the July final exam counts double! #Rude #mymommystilllovesme #andmystalkerbutthatslessawesome

Okay, coffee.

So, I found this machine yesterday:

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(Actually, I found a BUNCH of machines. Have I ever written about my mother’s Home Shopping Network problem? Google it. The first year I had my apartment, I would come home to find a daily box from HSN with some bullcrap doohickey that I’d just shove in a closet. AND THEN she’d come over and NOT see the George Foreman grill, assume she didn’t get me one and then buy another one and have it shipped. OY.)

(I also found this:

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These are the instructions:

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No way am I grappling with that, but since I’m working again, I’d like to have fresh coffee in my home — um…just like I did when I was a baby. *Clears throat*

Now, even though coffee making is practically in my blood, I decided to follow Astin’s directions. Kinda. I chose Folgers vanilla coffee cause Folgers has commercials and Illy just sounds like it’ll make you ill…like his revenge for the ebola for which he keeps blaming me. (Speaking of which, when is someone going to write a post about my magical HSBC Arena hockey powers? AND THEM MOVING THE FREAKING RINK JUST TO PISS ME OFF?)

Next Astin said to get filters. Well, evidently, America no longer makes filters. Or sells filters. Or will even entertain a conversation about filters.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you sell coffee filters?”
“SHHH. What’re ye trying to do, girl? Get me shut down? Now git!”

Perhaps, the problem was searching for filters in the Old West. Oh and did you guys know that while I cannot find any filters at all, white people get GOLD FILTERS??

Anyway, I finally find filters at the local “bodega.” (Quotes cause it’s clearly just a front for money laundering. They don’t sell anything that expires and they only have one of each item on the shelf.

Shay. Dee.

But seriously, what the hell? Six Duane Reades, a CVS and a Walgreens = no coffee filters? Does Obama know about this? Maybe we’re not in a recession at all, stores just aren’t selling stuff people want to buy, so all the money is going to the money laundering operation that doesn’t need it!

(Oh man, if I disappear, you guys tell the FBI about this post!)

Okay, so we have all the coffee making ingredients.

We wash the coffee making device.

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I consider the wisdom of drinking coffee at nine pm when I have to be in prison bright and early tomorrow morning: Low.

But moving on, we can’t have the test run in the morning when we need the coffee, right?

I went with double the dose Astin suggested cause I likes my coffee strong.

I open up my newly bought bag of spanish filters, stick it in the thingy, latch the other part on top of the glass pot and insert the plug into the out-let? *Glares in a northern direction*

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It started to fog and sizzle in a threatening way, so I ran.

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When I didn’t hear any exploding, I went back to see a nice little pool of correctly colored liquid collecting on the bottom of the pot.

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It took about six minutes and when it stopped dripping, I steamed up some milk, and poured myself a cup.

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Um… I didn’t exactly spit it out…but I didn’t exactly drink it either.

It was still really weak, but it was also cold. I think I need to let it set in the pot for like an hour to heat up.

But all in all, it was pretty easy to do and I thank Astin for the assistance.

Hopefully, tomorrow morning’s pot will be better. I’ll need it. Did I mention I work in prison?


Coming next week: What does the magic bullet do?!


Sunday, February 13th, 2011 by Dawn Summers

Pi pulled strings to get me a new job AND she’s driving me into the office tomorrow morning. Do I need to give myself a wedgie, punch myself in the face or steal my own lunch money?

In other news, I found a coffee maker in my closet and have decided that 35 is the age at which one learns to make ones own coffee…unfortunately, I can’t find the directions for it… is it as simple as it appears to be?

What’s the worst that could happen? And how quickly will I know that the worst has happened? Will it be obvious that I shouldn’t drink it or will it look fine but then poison me? Incidentally, I also found an Italian press (instructions for which are unhelpfully and curiously in Russian or Czech or some other language with a weird alphabet)…but I learned from Pearatty’s house that you use that second.

Feel free to answer and all of these questions… oh wait…I have to buy coffee first, right? Like in a bag? What do I need to get? Beans? or ground up? Hell does this all work?? Okay, maybe 36 is the age at which one learns to make coffee…

Awesome story of the day

Thursday, February 3rd, 2011 by Dawn Summers

You guys know how I watch a lot of movies? Well, that’s mostly because a few years ago, I signed up for Blockbuster because they had a deal which allowed you to get three movies mailed to you at home, plus, if you brought those movies into the store, another three in-store rentals, for a total of six movies at home at any one time.

THEN without warning or notice, they changed it to either three mailers or three in-store rentals.

This change made me mad. And I vowed to make them suffer. And then I got laid off and had all the free time in the world to actually borrow more movies from them under the changed policy than I ever had under the policy I signed up for.

Long story, a line longer, I rent A LOT of movies from Blockbuster. So, I’ve seen A LOT of movies. So many movies, in fact, that I start requesting old crap movies like “The Hot Chick” starring Rob Schneider.

I mean, I try to put as many better movies as I can think of ahead of that dreck in my queue, but inevitably, the day comes when I open the mailbox and the envelope inside says “The Hot Chick.”


I open it and put the disc in and…dude…the title page says “The Disaster Movie.” I open the DVR player and sure enough, instead of the probably terrible Hot Chick, I have been sent the EVEN WORSE spoof “comedy” “The Disaster Movie” starring Carmen Electra. DEAR GOD. IN HEAVEN. HALLOWED BE THY…you get the idea.

Now, I have two options: return this crap to the video store and get something I want or “report a problem with my disc” whereby Blockbuster will correct its error and actually send me “The Hot Chick.”

Yah. So I return the movie to the video store immediately and get something else…which probably turned out to be bad too, but whatever…here’s the awesome story of the day.

I get a mailer from Blockbuster today and when I open it, inside is the envelope for “The Hot Chick” WITH DISASTER MOVIE STILL INSIDE! There is a note attached which reads:

“Dear customer,

There has been a problem with your return. This is not the movie listed on the mailer. Please return the correct Blockbuster disc as soon as possible to avoid possible interruption of your service. If the movie you rented has been lost or you have chosen to keep it for your collection, we can charge the purchase price to your credit card. Thank you for your business.

– Blockbuster”


After very little reflection, I handwrite the following note:

Dear Blockbuster,

I don’t know what I find more offensive, that you think I am trying to steal “The Hot Chick,” or that you think I own “The Disaster Movie.” I assure you, neither of these things are true. This is the disc that came in this mailer originally, I simply returned it to your store because I decided I didn’t want to see either movie.

-Dawn Summers

However, before I mailed it back, I figured that maybe the universe was trying to send me a message, so I decided to watch the Disaster movie.

This was a mistake. A horrible, horrible, horrible, sadly irreversible mistake.



One minute in Dawn Summers’ mind

Monday, January 31st, 2011 by Dawn Summers

So I decided that from now on I was gonna call Alceste, Peter, cause he looks like a Peter. But then I remembered that I know a Peter, but I had no plans to change Peter’s name to Alceste. But then I realized that would get super confusing after a while. So I decided that to distinguish them, I would call one Peter and the other one Alceste Peter. But Alceste Peter is too long a name, so I shortened it to Alceste. But just so everyone is clear, that’s short for Alceste Peter cause his name is Peter now.

And that’s one minute in my mind! You’re welcome.

Tomorrow I will sit around feeling sorry for myself and blaming other people because I’m helpless and that is apparently, hilarious. O_O

Also, today I got texts from two different people which read “I hate you.” Awwww.

Merry Christmas!

Saturday, December 25th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Operation Repatriate Wygant has its Step 2: Mail the baby to Aunt Dawn!


Also, look at the present he sent me! For an 11 month year old, his gift wrapping skills already surpass my own! And you should see his penmanship! I no longer worry about him having to go to Harvard. Whew.


Thanks also to the Jakes, VinNay and Pearatty!