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Sunday, July 31, 2005


Jim MacLaren '85, a former football and lacrosse player at Yale, was recently honored with the Arthur Ashe Courage Award at ESPN's annual ESPY Awards show. MacLaren became a top triathlete after losing a leg in a motorcycle accident at age 22. Eight years later he was struck by a van during a triathlon and suffered paralysis.


"Calling Dawn in an emergency is the equivalent of calling a little kid who won't put his parents on the phone"

- Peter at 4am after trying to reach Karol or me for five hours after her mom locked herself out of the house and tried to get the spare set from Karol.

But it's true. If it's an emergency, don't call me. I won't believe you for the first ten minutes and even then I'll mostly be wondering why you're calling me.


How long must you wait after attending your friends' housewarming party before you can start bad mouthing New Jersey without having it seem like you in any way had less than a great time at Dawn 2 and Alceste's superfantastic riverfront apartment?

Saturday, July 30, 2005



Oh Yeah

The card was the 2 of diamonds. Well, is the 2 of diamonds, since I didn't get around to cleaning my room.


I came in fifth out of 26 players today at a pretty serious NLHE tournament!

I even got four or five "revenge of the AK" stories out of it, the hand seemingly disliking my insulting it.

On the second hand of the night, I am dealt Big Sick..er Slick.

I raise eight times the big blind...a third of my stack.

The blinds fold, I have one caller.

The flop is 2 K 4.

I go all-in.

The one caller is short stacked and calls.

The Turn is an Ace.

I am giddy, about to take back everything bad I ever said about the "so-called-third-best-hand-in-HE."

Someone remembers that since the short stack is all-in we should flip the cards.

I quickly show my monster two pair.

He flips a set of TWOS!!! FREAKING POCKET TWOS.

The river is a brick and I lose half my stack.

Mofo Ace/King.

Happily, when I went all-in for a lot more money with pocket nines, and an AK called me, he also lost. I actually shouted 'So's Your Face Ace-King' at the cards!

I know. I need help.

Upshot is that after four and a half hours of play, I won four dollars more than my buy-in.

Friday, July 29, 2005


I tried to sleep in today, but the phone kept ringing non-stop. I'd pick up and there would be long pauses after which a heavily accented person (or a digitized voice) would respond offering me one product or another.

I would mumble something about my level of interest and hang up.

After three times, I decided to give up on sleep and get up.

Of course, the calls didn't stop just because I was eating, watching TV or blogging, instead of trying to sleep.

So, I got me a pen and paper and wrote down every strange number on my caller id.


And then I proceeded to call each and every one.

"This is [insert annoying ass company] How may I help you?"
"Stop calling my house."

AOL probably had the funniest response to my request. After getting my name, address
and phone number added to their 'Do-Not-Solicit' roster, this chick asks me if I "would interested in receiving information about their partnership with the Video Professor?"

Uhmm...let me think about it. Why don't you call me tomorrow. Oh. Wait. You can't.



New LLP planned a summer afternoon outing. I decided to go and score a free meal at Tavern on the Green (which I have inexplicably never been to) by signing up for the “Central Park scavenger hunt.”
The hunt started at 3:30.
Unfortunately, due to some police action on the west side subway line…I didn’t get to the meeting point until 4 p.m. (Ok, and there might have been a decision to stop at Krispy Kreme on the way. I then had to walk the whole avenue block where KK is supposed to be on 72nd street twice because I couldn’t find it. Finally, I noticed a plain white sheet of paper in the window of an empty storefront which said something like “Dude, Dawn, we closed this location like two weeks ago. Where have you been man?”)
Anyway, by the time I got to the starting point, I saw one of the scavenger hunt teams frantically trying to make a “creative” picture of them acting out a Beatles song in front of the ‘Imagine’ monument in Central Park. (i.e. everyone holding hands would signify ‘I wanna hold your hand’ or everyone lying on their stomachs with two rolls of paper on either sides of their mouths would be ‘I am the Walrus…’)
As I watched them scramble around in formation…I remembered “oh yeah…Scavenger Hunts suuuck!”
I ducked out of sight and walked into the woods. I found a bench under a tree and contemplated my options.
Dinner wasn’t until 7 p.m. It was humid and hot.
I should have just gone home. But no.
I finished the last pages in ‘A Widow For One Year’ (Dawn’s quick review: DNR (Does Not Recommend). Now, it was 4:20. And still unforgiveably hot.
I watched the strollers roll by me and noticed that not one of the babies matched the skin tone of the women pushing them.
Little cherubic pink babies were moved along by full-figured brown skinned women; while the darling Asian babies were accompanied by the Type-A middle-aged women who were jogging and using their cellphones as they took the babies out for their afternoon strolls.
I didn’t see any brown skinned babies. I guess they have their own parks.
It was 4:48 and now three pigeons were perched threateningly in the branches above my head.
I checked my Treo looking for movie times..nothing started before six.
I reread some portions of AWFOY.
Still sucked.
It was 5.
I decided to walk to Lincoln Center.
Twenty minutes later I was sitting, spoon deep in a caramel sundae at Haagan Daas.
Ahh…cool and creamy.
I wasted about 40 minutes there, taking the smallest bites possible under the glaring eyes of the ice cream shoppe proprietor.
After I left, I hit the Barnes & Noble on the corner.
Don’t even look at the Harry Potter books….you bought yours on Amazon using the Super Saver delivery method and now you will just have to wait the additional four days for it to come.
You made your bed, missy.
I could feel my credit card just being magnetically drawn to the cashier, so I decided to leave.
Anyway, it was 6:10 and I figured if I walked slowly enough I would get to Tavern just in time for dinner.
Sadly, even though, I dragged my feet and got lost, I still got there at 6:30.
Fortunately, it turns out the firm arranged for cocktails starting at 6!
Our long personal nightmare was over.
Of course, the best part of the story is that while we were having dinner at Tavern on the Green…we weren’t having dinner in Tavern on the Green.
The firm arranged for an outdoor buffet of hot dogs and hamburgers and some boiled corn.
Mmm mmm.
Kill me.


And want to chat about it, Gib's got a pretty good spoilers-allowed thread going on here.


mostly because the low ones are so much more fun.

Thursday, July 28, 2005


You scored as Loner.







Drama nerd






Ghetto gangsta




What's Your High School Stereotype?
created with QuizFarm.com

via Gib


Because I've been expensively wronged.


The AK is a way crappier hand than people think it is.




So, put in your guesses and quick!


Fill it.

Anybody else up for Great Adventures in the middle of the day on every Tuesday until my next job starts?

Umm...I mean after the next two weeks, when I will be diligently doing everything that needs due diligence.


City Council passes 'ban' on 'pay to pray' suspending meter rules on Sunday. Hmm...don't Jewish people pray on Saturday? I think we need to suspend meters on Saturday too, just to be fair.

Wait and Jehovah's Witnesses pray on Friday right? And Muslims pray like every day, don't they?

No Pay to Pray Any Day!!! No Justice, No Peace!


I almost didn't play poker yesterday so I could stay home and read Harry Potter.

But then I realized I could read at red lights, so...

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Everything Old is New Again (or yes, I still blog thanks for asking)

My great aunt died on Sunday.
Tonight was her wake.
Well, she wasn’t my “real” great-aunt , at least not by blood, and the only memory I have of her is sixteen or seventeen years old. The whole family had gone to Great Adventures and no one would go with me on the roller coaster. She volunteered. And, if the program at her wake was right, she was 81 years old at the time. Damn. And to think, all I kept thinking at the time was that she smelled weird.
Anyway, she was my godsister’s great aunt and in those days any family of my godsister’s was family of mine. Fifteen new cousins, three aunts, two uncles, one guy-who-is-not-our-uncle-but-is-most-definitely-having-relations-with-our-aunt and one great-aunt.
Visiting my cousins was like stepping into bizarro East Coco Beach. Well, the drugs, graffiti and poorly lit hallways were exactly the same; but, where I lived in a two-bedroom apartment with my mom – they lived in a two-bedroom apartment with six kids, one grandkid and two parents.
There was always noise—music, laughter, yelling, crying, toilets flushing, glasses breaking, it was basically Disneyland for an only child.
My cousin Nando and his girlfriend Mandy would pick me up from the babysitter on his bicycle. They somehow shared the seat and I would sit on the handlebars. I was five years younger than the youngest of the six children, so they took turns combing my hair, teaching me to skip rope and fight.
Angie, the second middle child, used to braid my hair and put beads on the end of each plait. My job was the rip up foil paper in small little strips to put at the end so the bead didn’t fall off. And not to move. Her wooden brush was the enforcer.
Yvette, who was first cousin to the six siblings, was that slow, fat relation that every family has. Growing up I would always be cautioned to “stop eating so much. You don’ t want to look like Yvette do you?”
In the later years that became “whoa, you’re getting as big as Yvette!”
Thanks, Mom.
The one grandkid was the daughter of the oldest daughter. She had had an affair with an older, married man and he refused to take any responsibility for the baby girl. So she and her mother had moved back in with her parents and siblings. The little girl had her last name.
As the years passed, I went from the cute, youngest to the “smart one, who talks white.”
In the interim, Dee, the second youngest had a baby at sixteen. Jen was born just weeks after her cousin, Ty was born to the nineteen-year-old Angie.
I remember going over to bring gifts for the babies when I was ten. Jen was lying on the bed and Dee asked me to get her washtub out from under the bed. I pulled out the plastic basin and put it on the bed. The tub made a loud thumping sound, which startled me, I mean, you put a plastic tub on a bed mattress, it shouldn't thud so loudly.
Except when you put said tub down on the exact spot where a baby is lying.
I quickly swept the tub off the sleeping baby and checked her forehead for any telltale signs.

Nothing! And the blow didn’t seem to wake her. Whew!
By then, the married man had divorced his wife, married the oldest daughter, given his daughter his name. They had two more kids. Another girl, who had such a vacant look about her, most suspected some retardation, and a boy.
The oldest son had married, had two kids, divorced and lost one of his kids to his ex-wife. (The oldest of the boys looked like the father, and the ex-wife apparently wanted no reminders of him when she started her new life in D.C.)
Mandy had dumped Nando. Leaving him with all the N heart M jewelry. He went crazy and spent six months in the psyche ward before marrying a hospital administrator named…Amanda. (Well, at least, he could keep the tattoos.)
The second oldest daughter had never had kids. And considering all her siblings had multiple children, it seemed unlikely that she ever would have them. She played the role of the doting aunt with a passionate zeal and just the slightest touch of sadness.
My godsister had a son at eighteen; then got married to a different guy, for three months. (Which, looking back, wasn’t such a shock since she brought a date to the rehearsal dinner.) She remarried and had another son ten years later.
When I left for college, I lost touch with my godsister and her huge extended family, but every now and then, for the big occasions, I find myself again in their world.

And so it was that I sat in the back of the church tonight. My not-really-my-great-aunt’s casket perched at the edge of the altar. My godsister, somberly dressed in gray, sitting in a pew next to her mom, husband and youngest son. Nando, Angie, the oldest daughter, Dee, youngest daughter, second oldest daughter, the guy-who-is-not-our-uncle-but-is-most-definitely-still-having-relations-with-our-aunt, dozens of new cousins, husbands, wives and even Yvette (who has lost a ton of weight, but who, unfortunately, turns out not to have such a pretty face) filled in the rest of the family section.
At the reception, I embraced all the old familiar faces and some new faces that were kinda familiar too.
“Wow. You don’t have to ask who that is,” my mom said, looking at a girl about 8 or 9, “she looks just like Alisa.”
The child turned her face to me and I could see that what my mom said was true, right down to the buckteeth and cross-eyes.
”Oh. Yeah. That’s unfortunate.”
We laughed.
Jen was there, at twenty she looked no worse for her unfortunate collision with the plastic bathtub.
Dee has three other kids besides Jen, who flatly announced “there’s a lot of us now” when my mom asked where Dee was.
Her cousin Ty, also twenty, was huge. As tall as he is wide, he had a tattoo of a bleeding Tweety bird etched on the inside of his left forearm.
“How you doin’ Dawn. I know you making bank!” he bellowed to me from across the room.
The program listed the oldest daughter’s first born as the eulogist. She was listed with her father’s last name and I wondered if she was ever told of the two years when she went by her mother’s. Her sister still had a vacant look about her – although at 5’9 and 100 pounds, she looks like a supermodel…although, I suppose the two looks are not incompatible.
The formerly married man was there too.
Nando’s marriage to Amanda II didn’t work out; she moved away with his two kids. But he seemed in high spirits.
Most happily, the always-an-aunt-never-a-mom, had a baby four years ago. At 41! Zaida is a lively three-year-old. She evidently has a number of imaginary siblings who cause all the broken ornaments and crayon writing on the walls of her house. She is in a gifted elementary school and is positively adorable.
I also found out that my godsister, a court officer, carries a gun to work.
We all live scattered lives now, each with his or her own apartment (well, mostly everyone has their own apartment…shut up). All with their own handful of kids (even though she’s an only child, Zaida most definitely counts as a handful!), everyone cringes at the memory of living crammed in a two-bedroom apartment; eight people sleeping in one, but I hope they realize that I once thought of that as the happiest place on earth. And still think of them as my family.

Monday, July 25, 2005


What playing card has been sitting on my bedroom floor for the past 12 days?

Must guess rank and suit. One guess per IP address. Prize will definitely be something absolutely worthless, if there is a prize at all.

Leave your guesses in the comment section.


In the meantime, shall we practice our voting for who Dawn tells us to?


Go Vote for Ken.

Saturday, July 23, 2005

Is it too late to administer IQ tests before issuing passports?

"Umm...well, I couldn't really understand what the announcement said because I'm American and I don't, you know, speak English, but I did pick out the word 'Emergency.'

-Las Vegas graduate student studying in London, in response to a reporter asking her what she thought when she had to evacuate the Underground after Thursday's bomb scare.




...is just so brave and inspiring.

Hell with you Tienamen Square tank guy.

Karol's still a doof.

Whew, looks like I've staved off the Cheney apologizing for another few years.


She made a point I hadn't thought of about terrorists not keeping the bombs in their bags.

Are we going to start doing pat downs before you can board the 4 train?

So Alceste, how long from this point, till I also become a Dick Cheney apologist forbidden from reading Alarming News?



I want to be petty, but not seem petty.

Friday, July 22, 2005


Me(playing DJ with poddy): Any requests?
pearatty: Not really. Oh, could we hear 'Home' again?

Thursday, July 21, 2005


It wasn't until I started blogging, did I realize how many things I do because they're free. More importantly, however, it wasn't until I started blogging did I realize how much these things actually cost in terms of pain and aggravation.

And yes, there is a story about dinner at Tavern on the Green and four hours of my life that I'll never get back, coming down the pike someday.




But she says it much longer and meaner and funnier.


OK, this whole blogging after a long day of working is just not my cup of tea.

But big news merits a few lines of wisdom.

I saw Sen. Leahy on the Today show this morning saying something or another about no lifetime appointment "getting a free pass."

Problem is, Senator, Roberts was a lifetime appointment two years ago too.

So my advice, let this one go. Actually, embrace Roberts. Claim him as a victory for "moderation" or some other weasel, meaningless word. Repeat Roberts' confirmation testimony about Roe over and over. Say that based on that testimony, you have no concerns about his ability to be a fair middle-of-the-road judge.

But, Dawn, you say, Roberts wrote a brief that said Roe should be overturned and Bush is just paying a debt to his right-wing base.

Yes, he did write a brief. But even assuming that the brief represents his personal opinion and not just zealous advocacy on his clients behalf, he was just confirmed.

Hard to claim he's nonconfirmable now. But if the Democrats claim Roberts as a victory over right-wing ideology, it leaves 1 of 3 possibilities.

First, Roberts, who has shown excellent capacity for doing what he's told, both as an attorney in the Bush I admin and as a lower court judge, may well hold to his "roe is the law of the land" talk when deciding cases as a supreme cout justice.

Second, the forces of the consevative right may demand a more definitive promise to overturn Roe or end affirmative action, which then provides a hook on which to hang a filibuster hat.

or Third, and yes, this is the worst of all possibilities, but dude, it's still better than the current path being taken, everyone thinks the dems are crazy, but say nothing to disabuse them, Roberts gets confirmed and then joins the four needed to overturn Roe.

But here's the current scenario as it's playing out:

Bush nominates a man overwhelming approved by this very Senate.
The Democrats filibuster.
Republicans can rightly claim that they will never approve anyone nominated by Bush.
Senate goes nuclear.
Roberts is confirmed anyway and any instinct in him to preserve precedent and respect decades of Supreme Court precendent absent any new evidence about human gestation, is completely mitigated by his bloody confirmation.

Lawyers by training are conservationists, bet on that and let Roberts sail through. Let's make this one as memorable a confirmation hearing as Breyer and Souter.

Oh yeah, that reminds me...Souter! Hopefully, Roberts will be another Souter or Souter will do to Roberts whatever was done to him during his first day on the bench.

Plus, no judge has ever gotten more conservative during his or her tenure on the bench, so one can imagine that the 88 year old Roberts will be as liberal as Stevens.

Oh, and the NAACP should get ready to settle all affirmative action cases for the next three years.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005


You're gonna have to pay them a helluva a lot more than you do.

Many people in Camden were outraged that the police did not find the children sooner and were pressing the authorities to determine if the children could have been saved had the police looked into the trunk early on.


Clareified's mascot, Hopey, has been flashing in and out for the past couple of days. I think he may be gone for good. If there's no sign of steady life soon, I'm going to have to remove the code.

I think it's what Hopey would have wanted.


got lost for an hour in Newark this afternoon because she wouldn't so much as roll down the window and slow down to ask for directions?

Oh, and I learned that it's not a good idea to flip off a driver in bumper to bumper traffic.

But the upside is that the weeks-long streak of live-blogging 'Hoist the African-American Flag' had ended and really, was I doing it for any other reason than I had always done it?



Or maybe he is just Bush's canary into the Senate and the real nominee will follow?

In any case looks like this Hispanic woman is out of the running. Sigh.

Monday, July 18, 2005


With a really, really big handbag!


Jessica: Is a limo picking us up today?
Me: Of course! What are we? Barbarians?

Really, every Friday night should start with a limosine picking you up from your office to take you out on the town for dinner and show!
Have I mentioned how awesome the Jakes are?! Well, if I haven't, they certainly have! Except Ari, that ungrateful devil woman.
The limo, though nice, was slightly smaller than the one we had the night before. Which of course, would have been fine, except that we were adding two other people: Lisa and Peter, to the festivities.
I politely asked the driver how many people the limo would fit.
"I think six," he said.
Hmmm...Me, Ari, Jessica, Mr. & Mrs. Jake, Karol, Peter...Lisa...
Oh well, I've never been very good at math, I thought to myself, as I let the matter drop.
Karol, on the other hand, took one look at the limosine and totally went Russell Crowe on our unsuspecting driver.
I believe the words: "unacceptable," "ridiculous" and "between the time that you drop us off and we have dinner, you must switch this one for a bigger limo to take us to the show" passed her lips.
The driver looked at me with sad, pleading eyes.
I looked away. You are so on your own, buddy.
For dinner, Mrs. Jake presented us each with an adorable box of chocolates with "New York/ Minnesota bloggerfest" written across the top (forgive me if this is not an exact transcription of what the box said, but there were chocolates underneath, so not much time was wasted on reading.)
"Although Lisa is a non-blogger among us." Jake correctly pointed out.
"Yeah, she should have to give back the chocolates!" I suggested.
We were having dinner at a steakhouse on the East side and Karol offered to take the Jakes out to a Russian restaurant the next time they were in town.
"It's great. You get there at 6 and don't leave till 4 in the morning!" she said enthusiastically.
She was met with silence.
I smiled.
"See, I was right! You guys don't know this, but Karol wanted to do this at a Russian restaurant this time. But I said 'no, I don't think Jake would like a Russian restaurant...and by 'Jake,' I mean me.'"
Who says Dawn is crazy?
After dinner we were off, in a much, much bigger limosine. (see photo(s) above, I couldn't get the whole thing in one frame. The red blur is Jessica; the other blur is the driver.)
"This is the only way to travel through Times Square."
"We've driven through here in my Honda before," I protested.
"Yes, and this is the only way to travel through Times Square," Karol repeated.
Insert pout.
We saw "Sweet Charity" with Christina Appelgate.
"If it's bad, then it was Dawn's choice," Jake said.
Fortunately, it was terrific. Christina was most plausible as the hopeless romantic, yet plucky, lead. Turns out the songs were somewhat familiar ("if my friends could see me now, they'd never believe it!" And the most famous 'Big Spender' number) and the dances were the best I've seen on Broadway since the now-closed Aida!
"Yay, so it was good. I won't be blamed."
"Right, but I get all the credit!”
Damn, those wily Minnesota Republicans!
Karol took us to a “secret” rooftop bar in Midtown.
But it was packed. Thus the quotes around secret.
The waiter managed to push a couple of tables together and we had drinks as we congratulated ourselves on a successful bloggerfest 2005.
Upon final analysis I was pronounced much nicer than my reputation and not at all crazy; Karol was deemed to be as mean and evil as I portray, Ari was found to be sweeter than her blog lets on, Peter was just like his blog “says something every few weeks, but when he does, it’s pretty funny” (On this particular occasion, Peter spoke once every few hours, including his observation that New Jersey’s “Welcome To” signs should probably read something like “Dude, you have left New York...was this really what you intended to do?” or “Seriously. Stop, you’re only getting further and further away from New York!”)
Oh and he bet me a thousand dollars that I wouldn’t leap off the rooftop and slide down to the street on the hotel’s flagpole.
Lisa, who right in the middle of drinks, turned to me and said “so, hey, how come your blogger name is Dawn Summers?” was promptly shunned for the rest of the night and punished by the Clareified staff the very next day.
After drinks, Lisa discovered the hotel’s stash of free truffles in the lobby. Having had her blogger chocolates confiscated for her lack of posting, she took a few of them and headed toward the door.
“Hey, where’d you get that?!” Jessica asked eyeing the shiny wrappers hungrily.
“Back there...but I didn’t want to seem greedy and grab a whole handful!”
The desk attendant smiled and said “people do it all the time.”
So, taking that as license for greed, we all grabbed a fistful.
“You know, after our dinner last night, I went home and ate one of the cookies Acquavit gave us to take home. I literally heard my stomach say ‘ow, stop! No more room here.” Ari said.
Hmm...my cookies didn’t even make it out of the restaurant.
Mrs. Jake seeing what she thought was my full box of cookies accidentally left behind on the table, said “Dawn, you forgot your cookies!”
To which I guiltily replied “umm...I’m leaving them for the waitstaff...they’ll probably want something to snack on as they clean up all these tables!”
Once again, we dropped the Jakes off at their hotel first.
A homeless man interrupted our farewells with pleas for change.
“Excuse me,” Karol scolded, “you are being really rude.”
I made sure to snag one of “the good seats” for the ride back.
There was a few minutes of crazy talk that involved going to Jessica’s apartment to play poker (instead of my taking the really, really big limo by myself back to East Coco Beach), but those plans fell apart and saner minds prevailed.
Alone, at last, in my stretch limo, I played my ipod through the limosine audio system.
Passersby could only wonder what famous celebrity was being ferried down the FDR in such fashion.
“Whoever it is, boy does have good taste in music!” they must have thought as notes of ‘Home’ by Michael Buble floated from the limosine skylight.

Sunday, July 17, 2005


"When four of the Yankees pitchers went on the DL, they picked up Al Leiter, too. It's like a real life fantasy team"

-Peter, after I told him I picked up Leiter after losing two of my fantasy pitchers to the DL and then promptly dropped him after he somehow managed at 16.1 ERA after two innings.

May the Yankees get similar results.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

SON OF A _____

I avoided any and all articles, columns, conversations with the word 'poker' in them for a whole freaking week because I didn't want to know who won the WSOP main event.

This morning a jackass IMs me a nondescript link from yahoo. I click on it and it's an article proclaiming the winner.

So bitter.

Well, I guess I can open up Ugarte's properly labelled "WSOP spoiler" e-mail now.

Friday, July 15, 2005


Soldier asks cousin to shoot him in the leg to avoid returning to Iraq.


Or whose belly is filled with caviar and fine wine?

Who knew that a few weeks ago when Jake called me a limosine liberal and I responded "well, all I need is the limo," that one Thursday evening a stretch limosine would pull up to the driveway of Karol's East side apartment complex to pick up Karol, Ari and I for a night out on town with the lovely Jake and his equally lovely wife Mrs. Jake?

Ari walked over to Karol's from her place a half a block away, I was already there because I had a meeting on the East Side. We buzzed Ari up and when she walked into the apartment, a bright shiny smile was already on her face.
"IT'S HERE!!!!"
"Crap!," said Karol in a definite state of not-yet-dress, "I thought they would call first."
Ari said that Karol's neighbors had been peering into our limo, while little kids from the building ran wild around its stretchy goodness.
When Karol was finally ready, we headed downstairs and walked out to the limosine.
"Oh, it's for you!" the doorman said looking at Karol. "Why'd he say he was here for Weiss?"
Karol apologized for having a limo sitting in the driveway for so long -- but the doorman didn't mind.
"Hey, it classes up the building!" said the man who gives me dirty looks if I so much as slow my Honda down too much when dropping Karol off after poker.
On the way to pick up the Jakes, we stopped to get the "I heart Haliburton girl."
For some reason, and I assure you, completely unprovoked by me, Karol threatened to "bitch slap" me. I looked at her, with her hand perched in mid-air -- and in a flash I saw the whole unfortunate sequence of events.
She would bring her hand down across my cheek. I would break her nose with my fist; she would then lodge her heel in my head.
Jake would open the limo door to find the bloodied sight of Karol's misshapen nose bleeding all over her clothes, while I gently pried a stiletto from my skull.
"She started it!" I would protest.
"I just slapped her a little, but she punched me," Karol would counter.
"Look you two, one more word and I'll turn this limosine around and take all of you home."
"We're sorry, Jake" we'd say in unison hanging our heads.
And then I'd kick her as soon as he looked away.
Thankfully, she thought better of the slapping impulse and we arrived with nary a scratch on any of the occupants.
The ride to the Jakes' hotel was actually quite short. As soon as we pulled up in front, the hotel doorman opened the side door and a family of four started to pile in.
"Hey! Umm...you've got the wrong limo," one or the three of us stammered from inside.
The family got out.
I watched them flag down a yellow cab a few cars up and get in.
"Dude. Who confuses a limosine for the yellow cab they were supposed to get into?! Who thinks that limos just come by every few minutes to pick up random passengers?"
A few minutes later, the doorman opened the side door again and this time it was the Jakes!
We introduced ourselves (I think as the black one, I was the most obvious.)
"So do you read us too?" Jessica asked Mrs. Jake.
"She has a life," Jake explained.
We laughed.
"This is like a four way blind date," Jake observed.
(If any one of my blind dates had started with a limo picking me up, I wouldn't still be single trying to figure out which country I'm adopting my toddler from...just sayin'.)
We were off to Acquavit, a favorite of the Jakes in Minnesota.
Jessica was the only one of the blogger girls who had been there before, so we basically followed our hosts lead and had the "chef's choice tasting platter."
The waiter was soo excited that he started off our tasting platter with two pre-tasting dishes that involved much caviar, oysters and creme sauces of alternating green and white hues.
In an attempt to ensure that no one would remember the night, we also got the "wine tasting" offering with the tasting platter and started off with what Karol and I assumed were shots of the potato based acquavit "vodka."
I say "assumed" because after the waiter poured out our acquavit choices and Karol offered up a toast to our hosts, the two of us emptied the glass in one swallow. When we proudly slammed the empty glasses to the table, we noticed everyone else had merely taken a civilized sip.
"Oooh...how embarassing for you," I said to Karol, hiding my empty glass in the table cloth.
We had what seemed like a thirty-eight course meal, complete with a different wine for each dish -- prompting Mrs. Jake to ask where the "regurgitarium" was.
Half way through, the sommelier ("that's the fancy word for the restaurant wine guy," I whispered to the immigrant redhead on my right. "Thanks, buddy, I know.") came by to pour a few of the bottles and regale us with the tales of the wine's origin.
"This is a very rare 1996 vintage of blahblahdeaux. There are only four grapes every year capable of making this bold flavor. But in 1996, there was only one -- and from that single grape, they produced this bottle that I now pour for you tonight.
"How do you like it?"
Umm...that's a lot of pressure, guy.
It's good?
We are all ready to die now?"
Although the Jakes were mostly in town to celebrate my birthday (or Alarming News' three year anniversary, one or the other), it also turned out that it was also the Jakes' wedding anniversary.
"I basically said we were coming to New York for the wedding anniversary though, because otherwise people would think I was crazy." (Spoken in true pseudonymous blogger spirit, Jake!)
Impressed at my most non-adventurous eater self for making it through six dishes involving, in order of I-really-don't-want-to-know-what-I'm-eating: watermelon curry soup, oysters, squab, risotto and goose liver ganache, I was quite unprepared for the palette cleansing spinach wrapped sheep milk cheese "palette cleansing" dish.
Ari must have been too, because she promptly dropped a slab of it on the table and hurridedly scooped it back into the plate before anyone saw...well, almost anyone!
Also in the category of things nobody thinks anybody saw, Karol dropped her ring under the table and then spent a good five minutes contorting her ankle in an attempt the pick up the lost ring with the heel of her shoe. Laudably, she did manage to get the heel in the ring's circle, but she couldn't manage to pick it up from the floor.
In a flash she disappeared beneath the table and recovered it.
What's that "you can take the girl out of Brooklyn," saying?
Our dinner conversation literally ran the gamut from local ballet to political campaigns, we even discovered that President Bush and Halliburton girl "had a moment" in Iowa and the President, to this day, dreams for the day he'll be reunited with "that girl from Iowa."
Oh, and if there happens to be a reward for a series of rash car window thefts in Seattle in the last sixties, please let me know. I have a solid lead.
Jake showed us pictures of his new summer home.
"You know, I was gonna show you some pictures of ECB, but now it'd just be too embarrassing."
"Well, you don't still live in the ghetto, do you?" he asked.
"Why, yes she does," Karol answered. "I was there for her birthday and saw the cops "cleaning up her block." They had all these people against the wall in handcuffs."
"Oh no...what's going to happen if you're dropped off in a limo? Are they going to think you're a drug dealer?"
Ummm...good question.
At the evening's end, everyone had developed a strange food coma induced limp and we hobbled single file back to the limo. Our driver, coincidentally enough, was walking toward the restaurant at the very same time.
"Wow! He's coming to meet us! Cool."
But no. He was just going to the bathroom!
He tossed Karol the keys and told her to let us in.
We dropped the Jakes off first and then were off to let Ari out at puppy central.
I tried to move to the space vacated by the Jakes, but stumbled over the bar in the limo.
Karol laughed "You're drunk!"
"I am not nor ever have been drunk in my life!" I fired back.
"Umm... the surest sign of being not drunk is yelling I'm not drunk!" Ari dryly commented.
Jessica and Karol decided to go back to Brooklyn with me.
I was pleased when they both got up and sat next to each other on the forward facing bucket seats, leaving me with the entire side and back seats to myself.
Hooray! I thought as I stretched out my legs and leaned back against the leather.
"Yeah, this limo is really just for three people," Jessica observed.
We laughed.
The limo lurched forward suddenly and my face connected with the divider between the driver's seat and the back.
They laughed.
As we sped toward Brooklyn on the FDR, my body would be sent flying against every side of the limosine. Jessica and Karol sat safely in their bucket seat.
"What the hell!" I said rubbing my shins and forehead, "you guys never move."
"Yeah, these are the best seats in the limo," said the girl whose 16th birthday party took place in a limo.
I murmered something and searched for a seatbelt to buckle into.
As we pulled into the entrance for the tunnel, I wondered if the NYPD would search the car.
"Yah," Karol scoffed, as she and Jessica sat slumped down, spread eagle in their seats.
Sure enough, we were pulled over and an officer came to look in the back.
"Dudes! Sit up, close your legs!" I cautioned -- fasting my own seatbelt.
Jessica waved at the cop, Karol giggled. The officer smiled back and gave the driver the go-ahead to pass through the tunnel.
"See! He liked how we were sitting," Karol said smugly.
As we turned onto my block I looked around ...whew, not too many people are out tonight.
I packed up my briefcase and sprinted to my front door, I quickly shoved the key in the lock and pushed the door open.
"Safe! No one will think I'm a drug dealer now"
I turned around and noticed that the driver was still standing outside the door waiting for me to get in.
Oh well...so how much am I 'posed to sell the dime bags for?


"What?! Jake does Pilates? She has totally ruined your tough guy image!" - Karol
"Well, he does very manly pilates." -Mrs. Jake


You are Marijuana (aka: weed, dope, skunk,
chronic...). You are the most commonly used
drug in the world. You are powerful, stubborn,
moody, have a strong attitude. You are
classified as class (A and B) illegal drugs.

What kind of Drugs are you? and how that reflect your personality?
brought to you by Quizilla

via Annika


Or two wars?


Thursday, July 14, 2005


On Tuesday Hugh Hewitt talked about how much of the mainstream media was finally getting on board with blogging. He cited the Washington Post's latest "Supreme Court" blog. The very next day I read an article about CBS starting a blog about its news coverage. My first reaction was 'great, maybe I can apply for a job blogging for a big news outlet!" But I changed my mind very quickly. The fun of blogging is the snark. The mercilessly brutal criticism of, well, everything and anything!
So, if I were CBS, what I'd do is start up a blog about ABC or NBC.


This year's Emmy awards present the first interesting match-ups in years, but my picks? Well:

Outstanding Comedy Series:

Arrested Development. (And yes, I still love, love, love Scrubs, but this year was a tad too schmaltzy --except for the Clay Aiken guest spot!)

Outstanding Drama Series:

Lost, no 24, no Lost, no 24, no Lost, no 24, no Lost, no 24 --- but what's with the West Wing being on the list? Is that show still on the air?

Outstanding Lead Actor in A Comedy Series

Zach Braff, and not just cause he blogs. If Ray Romano wins again I'll hurl.

Outstanding Lead Actor in A Drama Series

Hugh Laurie, but I don't see how House, M.D. is a drama. Well...ok, so there was that one dead baby.

Outstanding Lead Actress in a Comedy Series

Jane Kaczmarek, but mostly cause I don't want any of the Desperate Women to get it. But since one of them will...Felicity Huffman.

Outstanding Lead Actress in A Drama Series

Jennifer Garner, especially because she has never been caught on camera rolling her eyes during an episode. Even when being chased by toy airplanes.

Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Comedy Series

Will Arnett. What? He wasn't nominated for his role as Gob? They gave the nom to Jeffrey Tambor? Well, that was dumb. I still say Will Arnett. Write him in.

Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Drama Series
Naveen Andrews, because he's hot. William Shatner too. Not hot, but funny, but this is an award for Drama so Naveen.

Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series

Jessica Walter or Megan Mulally, drunk white women make me laugh.

Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Drama Series

The Korean Woman from Lost, all the actual nominees are GARBAGE meanwhile they overlook the best supporting role in a drama since Alyson Hannigan. WTF?

Outstanding Animated Program

The Simpsons

Wednesday, July 13, 2005


"Would I be willing to consider people who had never been a judge?" Mr. Bush said. "And the answer is, 'You bet.' "

DawnSummersforChief Justice.com

Doesn't anyone play hop scotch anymore?

Boy dies playing 'pass-out' game.


So, what's there to do in St. Paul, Minnesota in August?


until you see about 80 hands in a tournament and these are, in order, the best hole cards you're dealt all night:

22 (won the blinds)
A9 (beaten out by flush)
A7 (busted out by K8 off)
KJ (busted out again by JJ)
QJ (folded to all-in raise)
A4 (folded to all-in raise)
A2 (beaten by pair of 9s)

And in case you were wondering, no, I can't play poker. But good on me for finding out before I moved out to Vegas to start my pro career.



Saw FF yesterday. This movie is definitely just for children. So, of course, I liked it.

And, well, now and then, everyone needs to be reminded that if your egomaniacal billionaire boss' name is "von Doom," you probably should quit.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005


Looks like the partners have their first real guest since Michelle Malkin.
Questions to ponder during today's broadcast:

Will Karol allow me to ask my Hugh Hewitt question (something about how high he was when he called the first debate for Bush?)
Will Clareified get a plug?
How many times will Ace play Wayne's World clips?
Is this the day the New York Times hollas back?

4:06 oops missed the beginning..."drink it in the bottle or take it in the can?"
4:07 Karol: I'm against it because it's not funny. Fight, fight!
4:07 People are asking hard questions about the Muslim community. Reports seem to indicate that the bombings were carried out by suicide bombers. But the British police are reluctant to call them suicide bombers even though they committed suicide and the bombings.
4:08 "It means they are not just in the middle east, now they are now in the west" (ooh, there's a biggie smalls song about rest in the west or breats in the west?
that i'm thinking of here...)
4:09 Karol: I hope that racial profiling will become a normal way of life because that's what we need to do to fight this war.
4:09 In england and america we will continue to play this game where they are not supposed to racial profile, but of course, they do. So it will be haphazard. Better to have a system of rules in place so people will know when they can or when they can't...
4:10 Someone noticed one of the terrorists acting suspciously, but held his tongue.
4:11 One does wonder if anything could have been done if people were less tentaive because they don't want to be accused of teh sin of racial profiling.
4:11 once a liberal says this it's like nixon going to china. He wrote about muslims putting up or shutting up with resoect to rooting out the crazies in their own midst (I agree...lord knows i try to root out the crazy christians -ed.)
4:13 terrorism can be stopped if muslim communities will get serious about putting out the idea that this is not acceptable. And if moderate muslims would take a stand against it.
4:13 Karol: I promise I'm not just being argumentative, (but she's going to argue -ed.) but thomas friedman is a liberal but liberals as a whole are stuill not willing to criticize the muslim community.
4:15 So far we've been pretty restrained with dealing with terrorism, but not too many nations will accept hundreds of deaths a year to terrorism before taking on draconian measures to prevent it (so, war with two countries...that's restraint? yikes! -ed.)
4:16 Terrorism in the U.S. is as old as something... "c'mon we are terrorist" the "u.s. is absolutely a terrorist nation" To have someone like julianne malvo...are they not aware that statements like this agreeing that the u.s. is a terrorism state may encorgae terrorism.
4:18 Uhh...some blogger whose name i didn't catch...oh charmagne.
4:18 Ace: "Based on your accent, you're not british."
4:19 Make poverty history tour, we were in edinburgh when coming through customs I looked up at the monitor that they'd been bombs in london...bizarre feeling to be in the united kingdom which had the "feeling of being an eyewitness to history in a horrible horrible way" but I'm a blogger so I had to go see it. (ummmm....okay. -ed.)
4:20 "we were really fortunate and had a great cabdriver who enjoyed having these american journalists."
4:20 a lot of the quotes were not sanguine...they either blamed britian or supported the bombings. (need dictionary -ed.)
4:21 anti-blari and bush sentiments...to have someone say this is all tony blair's fault really blew me away. this outpouring of this woman who said "it's a boomerang" the war in Iraq is the "reason we are getting this here."
4:22 only hite male members of the upper class seemed surprised. "about my age." I've got to find someone who looks like a business man (I'm a business. Maaan. I take care of my business damn.)
4:23 His was more the standard British line: Hitler tried to bomb us, the Ira tried to bomb us and now these guys are trying to bomb us and they won't succeeed."
4:23 I get really annoyed when people interview a few people and then try to say what the country feels (Karol's just being argumentative today -ed.)
4:23 "I have a a PhD in..." So's your face, Karol. -ed.
4:24 we'll finish your story after the break. Dude...pick a url any url and stick with it girlie...oh I mean Dr. girlie.
4:29 Guitar worthy of blackie lawless of wasp? how OLD is ace?
4:30 Methinks Ace dost not knoweth the England/United Kingdom dichotomy.
4:30 Ace: "I've read an awful lot about how teh brits are taking this in stride." Isn't anger and a desire to protect more serving of the public interest than "oh give me a kiss luv." (dude, who has a worse british accent than i do? who? -ed)
4:31 Yoest: "I don't want to say that people weren't affected, but I got a lot of people saying "you americans get so much more sentimental and emotional about
things." So it was only 50 people, you still should have a sense of being violated by this kind of coordinated attack.
4:32 Ace: I don't understand how you just blow it off. Karol: I don't think they are "going to pull a spain" (I don't mean to be argumentative...but screw you guys. I lived in Scotland! -ed.)
4:32 We'll get into this with Hugh, a blogger who has actually done some real reporting (not like Dr. Yoest and her man on the street interviews!)
4:33 "If it's not close, they can't cheat" (good title.)
4:34 "reportage" (really, Ace...from sanguine to reportage?)
4:35 Hugh has some pep in his voice.
4:35 "Much less censoring of spin" Did hewitt just such that Joe Wilson outed his wife to Judith Miller?
4:36 Ace: This is a conundrum because blogs are parasitic on MSM Hugh: I don't thik we're going to replace anything.
4:37 L.A. Times has been crippled and hollowed out because if you can get your news anywhere, you're not going to get it from a crappy newspaper like teh L.A. Times.
"Not parasitic; symbiotic is better"
4:38 WashPost opened up a Supreme Court blog...
4:38 Is Hewitt reading a post to us over the air?
4:39 (behind the scenes) Karol is hungry.
4:40 IM with Karol...what did I miss?
4:40 Fortay? (ace pronounces words funny..is that what hewitt means?)
4:41 Hewitt points out that in yesterday's press conference most of the questions were about Rove and none were about AIDS in Africa, Social Security or teh U.n.. Ace adds, "I'm surprised they weren't able to work in questions about Abu Graib." (Hmmm "Yes, scott what does the president plan to do about aids in africa? Well, good question Helen.)
4:45 KArol: There seems to be a push to make bloggers be reporters. Honestly, I don't want to be a journalist. Are we going to actually have to do our own stories?"
4:46 No, blah blah authencity...something something.
Ace: Mainstream media was doing a piece on bloggers and included Wonkette? Hugh: must be that cute redheaded thing (Heh, Karol's gonna be pissed! -ed.)
4:47 Judy woodruff said "is there any rule that forces people to disclose their name in the blogosphere." Who would enforce this the blogging communications commission? Karol: I nominate Huigh Hewitt.
4:47 Talk about fundamental "non-curiosity" (i guess judy hadn't heard of the eason jordan "scandal!" (SCANDAL!)
4:48 Blogopshere has replaced taht editorial pronounce. Bloggers are able to put these stories on and force the MSM to cover it.
4:49 Hewitt: "Multiplicity of low traffic blogs" (ooh, oooh, that's me, that's me!)
4:50 No one likes to be bored except fanatics (aka, HTAAF listeners? -ed.)
4:50 London terror bombing they now know who the four people are. Before long the bloggers who lived in westblah shire will tell us about them."
4:51 John in Greenville (the wonkette of Hoist.)
4:51 "Do you feel vindicated that something something" "I never stop self-prompting and in Washington they never stopped counting until they won."
4:52 Dan Rather still thinks it's within spitting distance.
4:52 Ace is evidently asking my has hugh stopped doing drugs while blogging question.
4:53 When you pull the pin on the handgrenade, it'll explode. Hugh Hewitt: "Kerry won" (well, he finally admits it.)
4:57 Recently the Times wrote about how the bloggers will ahve a hand in the upcoming judicial wars: "blogegrs are not necessarily the mad, the sad and the lonely." Hugh is that you: "no, although sometimes I am one or all."
4:58 Hugh thinks "we're making more money than [the MSM] -- (dude, where's my check!?)
4:58 Luther provided an alternative means of interpreting the world -- leave it to a protestant to say such a thing. -ed.)
4:59 yeah, like hugh hewitt needs a plug?
4:59 "thanks to charmaine yoest" (buddy, that's dr. charmaine yoest, to you."
5:00 not bad. 3 and half liberal new york timeses. (of course, i don't yet know what the maximum number of liberal new york timeses is)


See a recount of my Saturday...Sunday? Here, here, here and of course, here.

The pictures make it seem like there were no black people there...but...although according to Karol's friend Lonnie I "rap like a white girl."


Not much has been going on. So, how 'bout an interactive post?

If you could change one thing in your life what would it be?

Personally, I would have taken a sick day in the seventh grade because that "perfect attendance" certificate was totally not worth it.


One day you totally hate the very idea of gorgonzola anything, much less cheese. The next day it turns out you've been eating gorgonzola for years and apparently have no idea what feta cheese is. Of course, you now hate the very idea of that.


If your given name is Coco Cox, what would your stripper name be?

Monday, July 11, 2005


"The question that was on his mind," said Steven Waldman, a college classmate and former national editor at U.S. News and World Report, "and this is my words, is: do you go to jail to protect the confidentiality of a source whose name has been revealed, and not by you but by someone else?"

There is a famous story about Ralph Emerson visiting Henry Thoreau in jail. Story goes Emerson asks him what he's "doing in there" and Thoreau replies "what are you doing out there?"

Thoreau essentially making some point about standing up for your beliefs never minding the consequences.

It's a story that made a deep impression on me in college. Standing up for your beliefs only mean something if you're also willing to go down for your beliefs. Of course, just as certainly as I knew Thoreau was right, I also knew I had yet to come across anything worth my loss of freedom.

I attended my fair share of protests, rallies and picket lines, but as soon as there was so much as a hint of police involvement, I was out. I don't know, maybe I'd seen enough people in my neighborhood up against the wall with their hands behind their backs to know there's no romance in a jail cell.

A couple of days ago William Safire likened Times reporter Judith Miller to Thoreau.

I beg to differ. Thoreau went to jail because he broke the law. He intended to do it, did it and went to jail for doing. It doesn't seem to me that Judith Miller thought she was breaking the law -- I mean she keeps citing the first amendment like it's the magical key to her problems. Abracadabra, first amendment, no jail for me.

Of course, three courts have now said 'not so fast' with that constitutional hocus pocus. So, there she is -- intermittently with that Time magazine guy by her side (although as of this writing, it looks like he'll be singing like a canary any day now), violating a court order that she (I guess) thinks is unconstitutional -- arguing that she knows better than the judges what the first amendment means. Seems to me that to be Thoreau she'd have to assert that she knows it's wrong to withhold her sources name, but that she's doing it anyway because journalists should be able to operate in secrecy.

Not because everyone else is wrong. After all, we're talking civil disobedience here, not martydom.


"What? No wonder they felt so good. They were 21-year-old breasts." -Ari

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Well, I say it's a money thing

I never went "camping" till New LLP paid for it two years ago.

Although, why Karol's got an opinion on why black people don't camp is beyond me.

So...just until we get a Democratic President then?

"I think it would be very tempting if the president said to Justice O'Connor, 'You could help the country now,' " Mr. Specter, Republican of Pennsylvania and a pivotal player in any confirmation hearings, said in an interview on the CBS program "Face the Nation." "She has received so much adulation that a confirmation proceeding would be more like a coronation, and she might be willing to stay on for a year or so."



During the W interview, the actress wouldn't part from Jessica Rodriguez, who is described as her "Scientologist chaperone." Rodriguez's role in Holmes' life remains vague, though Rodriguez says they're "just best friends" since meeting around the time Holmes met Cruise.

This whole TomKat thing amuses me so...until their bodies are discovered among the mass scientologists graves.

Eh..even then.


Me (upon realizing I brought speakers to play my ipod): I'm totally awesome!

Twenty minutes later...

Candace: Dawn never says anything nice about anyone.
Me: Not true. I recall saying I was totally awesome.


But thanks to Alceste for figuring out how to get the router working with my two computers.


Doofo guy: So you Chinese or Korean?
Pharmacist: No.
DG: Philipino?
DG: Don't tell me you a JAP!?!
DG: Well, you ain't black or Puerto Rican. So what are you?
DG:Oh. You guys have good food.

Saturday, July 09, 2005


The main criticism was that the United States team was so dominant. It went undefeated in the 2004 Games but has received strong competition from Australia and China.

But curling and fencing remain?

Friday, July 08, 2005


Pauly Shore Is Ready For A Comeback


I shake my fist at Ari for this, but since it's my birthday and all, it's pretty easy to remember what I was doing during all the relevant time periods. Right off the bat, I'd like to say I'm tagging Karol -- mostly because no one else seems to have the stones to. Chickens!

10 years ago: Well, I turned 20. I just finished my internship in the Clinton White House (standard response: yes, that was the same summer of Monica Lewinsky, but no I didn't know her and I definitely didn't have her kind of access.) My second job that summer was teaching politics and journalism to rich kids in the Boston area. On this particular day I was in a staff improv show for the students. It was my first time on-stage in two years and I was understandably nervous. What was not understandable, however, is how I ended up falling off the stage -- which is what happened about half-way through the show. I didn't hurt anything thankfully and managed to climb back up and finish the show. (Adendum: 9 years ago: I was delivering my grandmother's eulogy in a hot Baptist church on the hottest day ever in Panama. No one remembered my birthday until we were at the cemetary and they went to my uncle's grave to pay their respects. He and I shared a birthday, and as they looked at the headstone, my cousin and my mom both turned to me and "oh, Happy Birthday." Terrif.)

5 years ago: That was the first-time I turned 25. I was excited because I could finally rent a car in New Jersey (only a milestone if you've ever trekked all the way out to Jersey in order to rent a car to drive to Cape Cod and discovered that since none of you were 25, it wasn't gonna happen.) I was also "studying" for the bar. I spent my birthday taking a practice Multi-State exam (consisting of hundreds of obscure legal multiple choice questions). That night I threw myself the last party I would have in my own apartment (I really need to get my own place.) There was much blending. That was also the year I bought my car -- but it spent most of that summer in a garage in Harlem because I was afraid to drive it.

1 year ago: Ummm... I turned 25 again. I saw 'A Raisin in the Sun (starring P.Diddy)' and flew out to California to hang with my ex-East Coasters contigent out there. I had two surprise birthday parties (as requested before hand) and went out on Mr. pearatty's new boat (which looks like the JFK boat you see in pictures with little John John at the wheel). I was feeling very glamorous, until I had to push the boat out to sea because the engine wouldn't start. I was knee deep in the ocean before I even got a life vest on.

Yesterday: Although I kept thinking "this is no way to spend the last day of your twenties," I managed to do all kinds of nothing. Ate breakfast, blogged, tried cleaning my room, quit, went back to blogging.

Today: Turn thirty. Pland to take stock, set some goals, clean room, but see above re: best laid plans, of.

Tomorrow: Tu tu tu. Hopefully, I'll live to see tomorrow and we'll figure out what we're doing then.

5 snacks I enjoy: Caramellos, ice cream, rice crispy treats, Wheatables and chewy chips ahoy.

5 singers that I know the lyrics of MOST of their songs: I’m with Ari on Billy Joel. Other than Billy; Alanis Morissette, Clay Aiken, Tracy Chapman and Whitney Houston.

5 things I would do with $100,000,000: Ditto to Ari's buying a mouseless apartment with a terrace and a parking spot. Buy a house for my mom, produce my own scripts, but a house in New Orleans and invest the other $90,000,000. But I ain't giving my other relatives jack swat. (It's probably that very attitude which keeps me from winning the lottery.)

5 locations I’d like to run away to: New Orleans, Sydney, Hawaii, Panama, Spain.

5 bad habits I have: See Ari's list...but instead of cigarette smoking...I'd put chocolate eating.

5 things I like doing: Blogging, seeing my friends, reading, watching TV and receiving birthday gifts all through the month of July.

5 things I would never wear: A Yankees cap, high heel shoes, hip huggers, sleeveless shirts or Uggs...but mostly just because candace forbids it.

5 TV shows I like: Arrested Development, Scrubs, Lost, 24 & House.

5 movies I like: What's Love Got to Do With It, When Harry Met Sally, Beaches, Dodgeball, Joy Luck Club.

5 famous people I’d like to meet: Oprah Winfrey, Clay Aiken, Joss Whedon, Ellen DeGeneres, and Tim Russert.

5 biggest joys at the moment: The birthday season, playing Texas Hold 'Em, Blogging, World Series of Poker watching and being on vacation.

5 favorite toys: Tivo, ipod, Treo, internet, new portable phone.

5 people to tag: Karol, Gib, Iocaste, the newly re-named F-train, Annika and Ken Wheaton. Oh, and Dawn 2, just to prove that I can't count, while simultaneously proividing a study break.


Thanks Annika and Jake!! Your gifts have (hopefully) saved me from being licked by Ari.


Dockendorf said he called because Prody was beating him and Simpson.

"I figured if I called the police at least he has a record. He said he should have done that with Nicole," Dockendorf said Wednesday.

And of course, that comment is directed at the real killers.


Or as we call it around here: "Clareified"....ok, or Crosblog.


Last year I set some pretty lofty goals,

All done with 12, 13, 14, and 17.

What's 4 out of twenty again? Did I pass?


I survived my twenties and all I got was this lousy post.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Fourth of July Blogging: A Play in Four Acts: Act IV


“Did you just ask if that was the ‘Star Spangled Banner? Get out of my house.” –JCN

I woke up at 7 a.m. on July 4th. I know a bad dream woke me, but can’t remember what it was. I turned on the TV and watched my first morning news show in more than a month. Bleh, not much had changed.
The traffic report alerted me to the fact that the road that takes me from Karol’s house to my house would be shutdown that afternoon, in preparation for the Hudson River fireworks display.
Well, good thing I’m up.
I channel surfed for a bit, until I fell asleep again.
When my eyes blinked open again, the clock said 10:30.
I wanted to leave by eleven, to make sure I’d beat the scheduled closing.
I heard Peter go into the shower and I went to say goodbye to Karol.
Of course, lazy was still asleep.
I poked her head until she moved.
It took a good ten minutes.
She scratched my arm.
OW…you son of a …
I smacked her head again.
She tried to grab my arm—but missed.
She then reached for the paperweight on the windowsill…
“Dude. You better not throw that.”
But just to be safe, I backed out of the room, making sure to protect my head.
The drive back home was most smooth.
I could play ‘home’ all I wanted because I was alone and I could drive as fast as I wanted because Manhattan’s streets were deserted.
By noon I was snugly in my very own bed.
I played a few hands of Party…49 to be exact (the amount remaining for me to collect the bonus).
As usual, I lost miserably playing.50/1 and switched over the NL.
On my Big blind I picked up a miserable 10 3o. But the small blind merely capped, so I checked.
Happily the flop came 9 10 3!
I bet $1.
He called.
I called.
The next card was a 2.
I checked.
He bet $5.
I called.
The River was a 10!
I had no idea what he had…I never think about pocket pairs (note to self, remember pocket pairs.)
I went all-in.
He turned over 10 7!
My full house doubled me up. I took that as a sign to stop playing for the day and went back to sleep.
At around six, I headed back to the big city for Kaz and JCN Fourth of July party.
They have a phat apartment on the 27th floor with an East facing balcony --- easily providing the best view of the fireworks while still remaining in the comforts of one’s own home.
I stood on line to check-in with the doorman, when a group of three people walked straight past the line, heading for the elevator.
“Hey! Wait! Where are you guys going?!” the doorman called after them.
“Oh, 27X.”
“OK, take the left elevator.”
I immediately turned to the doorman and said, “umm...excuse me, I’m going to 27X, too.”
He eyed me suspiciously.
“Yes sir… JCN’s apartment.
I followed behind the two guys and a girl who were on their way up.
“That guy totally profiled us,” one of the guys said to the Asian woman.
“Profiled you? You’re white. He was probably profiling me.”
“Well, he could probably tell that I was Canadian. That’s why he stopped us.”
I tried not to laugh…they so don’t know from profiling.
I always forget how huge their apartment is, until I open the door to be greeted by vast square footage, complete with a full-size pinball machine.
Everyone I knew at the party was sitting on the couch facing the door, so I got a welcome befitting the birthday season girl.
“DAWN SUMMERS!” They all said in unison.
I love a good entrance…from left to right was Dawn 2, Alceste and asphnxma.
“Oh my gosh! Yesterday, I totally did that thing where you ask someone how many chips they have left and then bet that!” I exclaimed.
Dawn 2 promptly ran screaming from any and all poker talk.
“What are you doing here? … when Karol said you guys were going to D.C., I assumed it was for the weekend, not six hours on Saturday, ” Alceste said.
“Well, you were wrong.”
I regaled them with my tales of sleeplessness and poker victories, Dawn 2 had returned from her kitchen visit and so we changed the subject lest she vanish again.
“Is it true we’re doing your birthday in the ghetto this year?” asphnxma asked.
“Some friends of mine said that your neighborhood is developing and is being revitalized,” Alceste said.
“Umm…really? There’s no gentrification that I can see…I mean we are part of the mayor’s pilot rookie cop on every block program…but no revitalization.”
“Well, isn’t gentrification bad?”
“uh…no…gentrify away. Please. Gentrificate everything up!”
“Yeah, but you’re renting. You wouldn’t even profit from it – you’d probably just get kicked out.”
Huh. Good point.
Suddenly asphnxma turned to a young woman sitting next to me and said “Hi, I’m asphnxma.”
Whoa…when did he become more thoughtful than I am? !
We all introduced ourselves and revealed the sad fact that we were all lawyers.
She was a consultant of some kind and said something like “I’ve just been put on a project that I am very exited about.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever said that,” asphnxma replied.
“Yeah…me neither,” I agreed.
“”Well, you guys have been lawyers for five years, that must mean you like it somewhat,” she said.
“umm..no…I am doing this just until my poker gets good enough for me to turn pro.”
Why are Alceste and asphnxma laughing?
“Shut up. I am getting good. I’ve just got to learn to see straights faster.”
“Why? Do you not see them until someone turns over their cards and beats you with a straight?”
“No…I don’t see them until I have folded an 35 with A 4 2 on the board.”
Seriously, why do these two keep laughing.
“Is there going to be poker at your house on Friday?” Alceste said.
“Why? Do you want to play?”
“Well, I want to take your money. And Karol’s….but not if asphnxma is going to play,” he added.
“Dude, not going to happen. I have a straight spotting system now!”
“What, that there’s got to be a 5 or a ten?” asphnxma asked.
“You can’t have a straight without a 5 or a ten.”
I started counting.
This was a way better system than my counting on five fingers!!
“Sorry, that we’ve now gone from boring law talk to boring poker talk,” asphnxma said to the consultant girl.
No, really, when did he get to be so polite?
“Yeah...sorry about that,” I mumbled…although I was really still just counting straights in my head.
Someone came over with some cupcakes
I took a bite of one.
“Alrighty.” Cupcakes good.
It was finally dark out and the fireworks were scheduled to start.
We climbed out on the balcony.
JCN hooked up the speaker system so that we could hear the musical selections that were accompanying the fireworks on the TV.
I saw a few starbursts in the distance.
“Is that them?” I asked.
“No. You’ll know when it’s them,” asphnxma said.
I squinted enough to see a few more pops in the distance.
“I dunno know…I think that might be them.”
“It’s not them!”
I noticed a couple of faces peering out at the night sky from a window next to the balcony.
"Awww...those sad people without a balcony."
"They have a balcony," asphnxma, in an apparently contrarian mood, said.
"Where is their balcony? Is it an invisible balcony? A balcony in their hearts?"
"No. Their balcony is right here! That's Kaz and JCN's apartment!"
"It's the bedroom window Dawn."
"I knew that."
"You didn't know that," JCN chimed in.
No sooner had he finished his sentence, than I heard a blast directly to my left.
The fireworks had begun!
And you could definitely tell it was them!
One after another, the sky lit up with shiny sparkles.
America Rocks!
I guess the music was designed to set the firework theme…so “Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ accompanies the ROY G. BIV fireworks.
The American Airlines song played along to the …um…high flying plastiques.
We stood on the balcony watching the bursts in the distance.
Oooh…pretty. Followed by the sounds of the explosion.
“Man. The sound travels too slow!” JCN lamented.
HAHAHAHHAAH…leave it to a still photographer to complain about sound.
As the display neared its end, “America the Beautiful’ flowed through the speakers.
I heard someone ask what song it was.
“Star-Spangled banner?”
JCN turned around.
“Did you just ask if that was the ‘Star Spangled Banner? Get out of my house.”
Everyone laughed.
“This is so awesome, makes you want to go wage war,” someone else offered.
“Hey, you’re in luck! We’ve got two going.”
As the fireworks boomed and crackled to their moving crescendo I noticed Alceste inside the apartment, with is back to us, playing pinball.
“Ooohh..Alceste doesn’t love America!”
After it was over we went inside for homemade desserts.
“So, pinball? Do you think your forefathers killed Indians and enslaved black people so that you could play pinball? Why do you hate America?
“It’s not America I hate –“ he started.
“-- it’s the freedom.” Another guest finished.
Everyone laughed.
“Are you a communist?”
“Yes. I am a communist,” Alceste deadpanned.
He and Dawn 2 (who is studying for her second bar) left the party early.
Asphnxma, our friend A and I hung around to make fun of kaz’s guests a little bit more.
“You know, so many of the women at this party are almost good looking,” he observed.
“Yes, but then something goes terribly wrong,” I concluded.
Eventually, my whirlwind East Coast vacation and little sleep caught up to me.
I was crashing.
I said goodnight to the party and headed off to the subway station.
I stopped at a local deli to buy a bottle of seltzer water.
“Did you have a good Fourth?” the cashier asked as he gave me change for a five.
And a pretty good second and third.
Here’s to the eighth!


Details are still coming in, but ABC's Charlie Gibson just called it "some kind of terror attack."

Our hearts go out to the newly crowned home of the 2012 Olympics and the victim's families.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005


In sentencing Lil' Kim for perjury, the judge cited the unsolved slaying of Notorious B.I.G as evidence of a troubling code of silence in the hip-hop community.
"It's because people did what you did, that we still don't know who killed him," he said.


Fourth of July Blogging: A Play in Four Acts: Act III

MODERN-DAY VENICE (ok…the Jersey Shore)

“You didn’t just beat them, you put your foot on their necks” - Cash

Usually, the fourth of July weekend is all about the crabs, once we tried to add in the fireworks, but the crowds and inefficient D.C. metro makes that process so frustrating, that we cut it out altogether. But this year, one of Py and Cash’s friend was having a heads up Hold ‘Em tournament at his family’s beach house on the shore. The prospect of poker, beach house and bbq, seemed like the perfect addition, I just wish we didn’t have to leave so early in the morning to get out there.
But we did.
The wake-up call came right on miserable time. 7:30 in the a.m.
I mumbled what I intended to be ‘hello’ into the receiver.
It sounded more like: “gaaarrrrrrrooooo.”
Hours of sitting in smoky bars, coupled with four hours sleep had given me the Kathleen Turner voice.
I hung up the phone and poked Karol.
“Get up,” I said. (or RRAWR GARRR)
“No, you get up first.”
What could I do? Any and all arguments about who should get up first would merely result in getting to Pyro’s late. Not an option. Not that I’m scared of anybody.
I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom.
I ironed my clothes and got ready.
When I came out Karol was still sleeping.
I had regained some semblance of speech by now:
“Dude, get the hell up. We are leaving in 13 minutes.”
I packed my stuff while she showered. 13 minutes later, I still heard water running and her crap was still all over the suite.
I knocked on the door.
“Go get the car! I’ll meet you down there.”
She’s totally trying to get out of paying that 27-dollar valet fee. Bastard.
I took the elevator down and checked out.
The guy at the front desk handed me a bill for $0.
What can only be attributed to the foggy haze of impaired respiration and exhaustion, I politely asked:
“What about the valet fee?”
“Oh. You have a car. Hold on a sec, I’ll check.”
He disappeared with my ticket and I plopped down in a lobby chair.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” I thought.
I waited for five minutes before he re-emerged.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. They are supposed to put that on your room when you check-in, but since they didn’t, I’m not gonna charge you.”
Woo Hoo! Who says honesty is not the best policy?
It was now 8:15 and there was still no sight of my roommate.
I called up to the room, no answer.
I called again.
Finally, I saw her come down the stairs.
“I need coffee,” she said as we got into the car.
“Too bad. We have forty minutes to get to Maryland – drive!”
She put on ‘Diamonds’ and we were off.
It was all Game, all the time after that as we sped through D.C. and Montgomery county and finally Olney.
I called Karen when we were a block away.
“Hi we’re turning onto your street.”
“How much longer till you get here?”
Gulp. We were already 8 minutes late.
“Two seconds.”
“Remember, I need coffee and I need it now. So, before we head up to the shore, we have to stop for coffee. Are you gonna tell Pyro and Cash?” Karol asked eyeing me threateningly.
“Sure. No problem, before we head up to shore – coffee! Got it.”
We pulled into their driveway and I saw Pyro’s mom waiting in the doorway.
I told Karol to come inside, she got on her cell phone. I went in.
Hi, Mrs. Pyro. How are you.
“Good, I asked Pyro where you were yesterday and she said you were in D.C.”
“Yeah, I had a free hotel room.”
“Well, I got watermelon for you,” she said heading for the refrigerator.
I really couldn’t stomach watermelon in my present state, but there is no saying no food offered by moms…I think that’s in the bible somewhere.
So, I sat there eating watermelon squares, while Pyro, Mrs. Pyro and Cash watched.
This is also a ritual I repeat annually –although it’s usually after having stuffed myself full of steamed crabs. One year, maybe four or five years ago, Pyro’s mom had bought a whole watermelon for something like 7 cents a pound. Of course, while it was a great deal, she didn’t really have anyone to eat all that watermelon. Enter Dawn stage right That year we had taken Amtrak down and, as usual, there had been insufferable delays all along the route. So by the time we got to Olney, I was starving. I probably ate half the watermelon all by myself that day.
And so, every year Mrs. Pyro buys a whole watermelon, in anticipation of my arrival. Of course, once we started driving straight to the crab shack, and eating there before we got to Olney, the watermelon eating became more and more difficult.
“It’s very good,” I offered as I swallowed down a slightly too-big-for-swallowing piece.
“Yes, I knew you would think it was good,” Mrs. Pyro said.
So not a good moment for the African-American community.
I shoved the last few pieces in my mouth because I knew if I looked at them in the bowl for even one more second, I would hurl.
Karol still (pretending to be) on the phone, sat at the wheel.
I sat beside her chewing watermelon chunks, while Py and Cash got in the back.
“Good morning”
“Hi, how was D.C.?”
“It was good. Do you guys mind if I stop for some coffee, now?” Karol asked confidently.
“Well, how about we get on the road to the Shore first?” Pyro replied sweetly.
Karol looked at me.
I chewed.
“I’m not picky. We can stop anywhere on the road…Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks…” Karol replied, her eyes still on me.
“Well, there is a Starbucks, but it’s about ten minutes out of our way,” Pyro retorted. Now she was looking at me too.
I chewed some more.
“OK, I just really need the coffee.”
“Fine. We’ll go to Starbucks.”
I swallowed and buckled my seatbelt.
Watermelon good.
While everyone went in to Starbucks, I played ‘Home’ on my car stereo. (That song is sooo awesome.)
Cash who was standing outside smoking, put out his cigarette and got in the backseat.
The song was finishing up.
“That is a really bad song,” he said.
I put up three fingers and instructed him to read between the lines.
The girls came back and we were off to the Jersey Shore.
Cash asked us to put on his ipod. I had no idea what we were in for. Sadly, his tastes were in line with Karol’s. All rap all the time.
(Dude. How is it the only black person in the car is the only one not obsessed with rap music? I ask you?)
Pyro directed Karol to the highway and promptly fell asleep.
I watched Cash straighten the seatbelt on her sleeping form. “Awww…that’s sweet, I thought as I too drifted off to sounds of bad beat boxing on the speakers.
When I woke up we were on the Jersey turnpike.
And I really had to go. Watermelon bad.
“Is there a rest stop?”
“ummm..no, “ Karol said as she turned onto the most desolate, forest looking stretch of highway I have ever seen in modern times.
I heard a loud screeching sound and laughed and pointed at the car up ahead.
“HA HA, Mr. Speedy Gonzalez. Did we take that ramp just a little too fast?”
“Guy, that was us.”
I looked at the clock and realized that Karol had somehow made it from Maryland to Jersey in under 80 minutes.
Thank the lord, I suck at math because I know that there’s more than 80 miles between Maryland and New Jersey and I just don’t need to know how fast my poor, terrified car was going while I slept.
“I gotta gooooo.”
“Buddy. What do you want me to do? There is no rest stop yet.”
“I gotta gooo.”
“GUY! Shut it!”
I pouted.
“We better find someplace to stop quickly,” Karol said.
“Why? It’s her car. If she wants to pee her car, that’s her right,” Pyro ever so thoughtfully countered. This is why people hate lawyers.
“Yes, but between now and that moment she is going to whine until we all want to kill ourselves,” Karol explained.
We found a rest stop about ten miles along (the term used my people who lack directional sense) and I ran to the bathroom, while Pyro went for some TCBY. She picked some chocolate/vanilla swirl flavor – the whole thing looked like a cone full of gray slush.
She took a few licks and passed it on Cash.
“I don’t want to throw it away...but it’s gross.”
Love is definitely eating gray slush to alleviate your girlfriend’s anxiety about being wasteful.
Karol and I went to the ATM. I took out $60 for the heads up tournament.
The last leg of the trip to the beach house took the longest since our parking lot experience at the Delaware Bridge the day before.
Cash’s ipod – one of the original 10G models from the 1980s, gave out and so we switched back to Poddy.
“I hate Alanis Morrisette so much. You know that when guys listen to her, it just makes them hate girls. I hate songs that make girls look bad”
“Yeah,” Cash said from the back seat.
I gave them each a finger and Alanis played on.
Once we crossed onto Long Beach Island, it was like a whole other world. Remember Dawson’s Creek? Just like that. Complete with the no black people anywheres.
Pyro looked around at the houses lining to street in the center of town.
“What the hell are these? Why would you have a beach house so far from the beach?”
“Well,” said Karol of the summer home in the Hamptons, “the beach is just two blocks down that way…it’s not so far.”
“Still. If I’m invited to a beach house, it better be on the beach.” Pyro responded, unconvinced.
And indeed the beach house that we were invited to was on the beach. It looked like a three or four level house from the outside.
We rang the bell and one of the other partygoers open it up.
We all said hello. Py, Karol and Cash knew most of the people from a monthly poker game they all play in which usually starts well after my bedtime. (I really need to get my own place.)
I recognized the host, who sometimes plays at Py’s home games on Tuesday.
I hugged him hello and then lurked in a corner until a friendly woman came up to me to say hi.
“I’m Cyrete. Nice to meet you.”
“How do you know the host?”
Is this because I’m black?
“Um…I’m a friend of his friend’s girlfriend.”
“Ok…what do you do?
“I’m a lawyer. I work at New LLP.”
“Oh, really. I know a woman there who is working on the Garodnick campaign. Do you know her?”
“Princess-ish? Yeah. We also went to law school together.” (First the hotel room, now the beach house poker tournament! Why is princess-ish haunting me? It wasn’t my idea to break my team’s agreement and anyway it was months ago!!!
She went on to say that she was also a lawyer at a small firm and that she was now working on the guy’s campaign.
“My mortal enemy Karol is working for his opponent.” I told her.
“Really? There are a couple of Republicans here.”
“Yeah and she would be one of them.”
When the tournament got underway, I was pitted against the host.
Oh, well. Guess I’m going to lose.
(Pearatty…you should probably close your eyes now)
My first hand was AQo.
I raised three times the big blind. (At this point I didn’t really know what the chips were worth or which color was which denomination –something I usually figure out as a game progresses rather than asking someone because..well…’how much is this one’ is just too embarrassing a question to ask.)
The host folded to me.
I dealt myself garbage on the next hand and check folded.
My next hand was AJ. I raised again.
He folded.
“So, you’re going to be a bully eh?”
“Ummm…no…I am the most scaredy chicken player ever…I probably shouldn’t have just told you that.”
He laughed. I looked down at 23o.
He capped the small and I checked.
The flop came 332.
I checked.
He bet 100 (twice the big blind)
I called.
The card was a K.
I checked.
He bet 600.
I panicked and went all-in.
“What the hell?!” he exclaimed leaning back in his chair.
He shook his head in utter confusion and folded.
“Ok, you are officially a bully.”
“I’m not. I swear,” I protested, flipping my cards to show him my boat.
I know, I know…shouldn’t have done that. But I felt bad and I didn’t want him to throw me out the pretty beach house.
My very next hand was pocket Kings.
He raised the big blind and I called.
The flop were all under cards: maybe a Q 2 10 rainbow.
I went all-in.
“My God! What are you doing to me??” He said, again folding.
“Sorry…I had Kings. I was afraid you had an Ace.”
“Well, you were right, I did.”
Woo Hoo! I am learning to read bets! I am learning to read bets!
He won the next few hands…mostly because I kept panic folding.
Heads up is a lot of pressure.
I looked down at Q5 as big blind.
The flop came 55Q.
I laughed out loud.
(I have never flopped a full house before and certainly not twice in one game!)
“That can’t be good,” the host said looking at me grinning ear to ear.
I bet 100 (equal to the big blind) and I couldn’t stop laughing.
“C’mon. See, I didn’t raise. I only bet a little bit.
“Great. You have a huge smile on your face and you’re only betting a little. I fold.”
I laughed. Note to self, practice poker face.
I don’t really remember the rest of the game – but needless to say it all turned around. I became way short stack and went all-in with A7. he called with a 58 and caught the 8 on the flop.
I was out.
Sadly, all the occupants of Professor Francese met the same fate. Cash, Pyro and Karol all went down in defeat.
The host had set up a losers tournament to follow.
Karol had to play Cash; I played one of the other Republicans in attendance and Pyro played some dude.
My match with the Republican woman was going very well for me. In a matter of four hands I had her down to 600 chips.
I made the mistake of checking my trips on the river, in the hopes that she would put in her last 600 (I put her on top pair and I had been playing weak the whole time), but she choked and checked behind me.
Oh well.
Karol made short work of Cash and came over to my table to watch.
In a matter of two hands, the Republican girl had won all her chips back and we were even.
“You’re a jinx!!!! That’s what you are, with your red hair and your different colored eyes!!”
Karol laughed her jinxing laugh and walked away.
“Well, you’re definitely going to win. She’s my jinx.”
The Republican girl laughed.
“Well, you are very hard to read and since I can’t see your eyes, I am at a definite disadvantage.”
That’s when I realized that I had been wearing my Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses the whole time. What a poser everyone must have thought I was! Trying to be some big shot poker player with my sunglasses on. Of course, the truth is my D&G glasses – a present from Karol and Peter, is probably the only fancy article of clothing I own and is second only to my car, in the ranking of the expensive things that I own.
I rarely wear them and thought that a fancy party on the Jersey Shore, with rich people , would be the perfect chance.
However, since I didn’t want to lose them, I also knew I couldn’t take them off my face the whole time. No matter how dark or inside it was. I thought about explaining this to Republican girl, but instead opted for a shoulder shrug and nervous laugh.
The glasses are not coming off, missy.
The match ended when I went all-in (on the crazy short stack) with a K2. She called with a Q9
The flop came 2 J A.
The turn was a K.
I threw my arms up…yessss!
I crossed my fingers: “please don’t let whatever-card-it-is-that-she-needs-for-a -straight come.”
The river: 10.
Oh well.
Stupid poker.
Cash was starting a side game with all the people who had lost even the loser’s tournament.
“You should play,” Karol suggested.
“Eh…I dunno…maybe this is one of those poker days where I should quit while I’ve only lost a little bit of money.”
“You know, there’s no such thing as ‘those days’ right?”
“No way. There totally are those days. Like when I flop the nut straight and get beat by quad tens. Or I pull the nut flush on the river only to be beaten by a full house. Or like when I go all-in for eight dollars and Lisa turns over pocket jacks. You know, those days.”
But I had been playing decently and catching good cards, so I decided to play.
I reached into my pocket to pay the buy-in and there was only one twenty-dollar bill left.
I knew I had just taken out sixty and paid twenty for the heads up tourney. I should have two twenties left!
See, this is why the glasses aren’t coming off.
I put in my twenty and sat down. One guy paid for him and his girlfriend. After throwing in the first thirty, he searched his pockets desperately looking for another ten. He finally produced a five and a bunch of singles to complete the buy-in.
He turned to his girlfriend.
“Ok, honey. We have to win or else we’ve got no money to get home.”
The table laughed nervously.
I don’t know if he was serious or not, but she took down the first two pots.
A player in middle position raised five times the big blind. She called.
The flop came 5 7 J.
The raiser, bet the same amount.
She called.
The turn was a 2.
The raiser checked.
She went all-in.
He called.
He turned over pocket kings; she showed 68! (I’ve told this story several times since Sunday and all the professionalish players I tell it to all say the same thing when I express my disbelief that she’d call a preflop raise with a 68. They say “was it suited?” So, yes. They were suited, BUT STILL.)
Anyway, the river was a 9.
She hit her straight.
I was officially scared of her. Don’t mess with a girl playing for her supper.
The guy who had just busted, rebought in.
The girl had a commanding chip lead and took to bullying the rest of us with her hefty raises.
I wasn’t catching any cards and kept getting blinded down.
Then the guy across the table from me goes all-in (even though little-miss-raise-every-time had raised).
She called him.
He turned over 35o.
I forget what she had because the shock of him putting all his money in with 35o pre-flop was still fresh.
Of course, by the time the hand was over, he had trip threes and won!
On the next hand, Cash called the big blind, and the crazy 35o guy pushed all-in again.
Cash called him.
Cash had KK and the crazy all-in guy had pocket threes!
He flopped a 3!
Cash was crippled and mad!
He rebought, but ended up being busted out by the bully girl’s boyfriend.
Between the two of them and the crazy all-in guy, me and the first pocket kings dude, who got busted out by the girl’s straight, were extremely short stacked.
But even he had me covered because he had rebought and was basically sitting on his chips.
I was frustrated.
This is one of those days.
Over in the Loser’s tournament Karol had just bested Pyro heads up.
Basically down to the felt, I finally picked up QQ in first position. Nobody called me and I won the blinds.
The next hand I had AA in the blind.
Nobody believed me.
The mean chip leader girl called from the small blind, and so did crazy all-in guy and the pocket kings dude.
But I won and quadrupled up!
I got dealt another pair of aces when Karol came over “to see how I was doing.”
Thankfully, no one called me this time and I picked up some blinds. Although one guy was really struggling with the decision to lay down his hand.
I found Pyro and told her that the mean jinx lady had jinxed me and then I wiped off the Karol jinx on her and went back to the table.
I looked down at AQ.
I went all-in.
This time the guy that struggled on my last pair of aces said:
“Oddly enough, this is the same hand I had the last time you did that. I think I’m going to call you this time.
He had me slightly covered and so I gulped.
I kinda wish he had called the last time, Karol jinx notwithstanding.
He turned over Wayne Gretsky: 99.
Coin flip.
Mercifully, my Ace came on the flop.
I won!
He was down to the felt.
He went all-in with his next hand.
Everyone folded. I had a K9 and figured what the hell.
He turned over pocket jacks.
Oh well. They were his chips anyway.
The next hand there were fireworks.
Short stack guy raised twice the big blind (about half his chips), the mean not-chip-leader anymore girl called, I also called. The blinds folded.
I had KQh
The flop came Ah 2h 5s.
Short stack guy went all-in.
Mean girl called.
I called.
Turn was Jd.
Mean girl went all-in.
Fuck! I am on the nut flush draw, but if she wins I will be back down to the felt.
I looked around, no Karol.
Let’s go. I call.
We all flip our cards.
Shortstack guy has A5 (two pair)
Mean girl has A7 (top pair)
The river: 9h!
FLUSH! I win, I win, I win.
Turns out I had mean girl covered and so knocked her and the short stack out.
Her boyfriend was still in with a laughable chip stack and the crazy all-in guy (who had just rebought).
But with about 12000 chips, I was far and away the chip leader.
Of course, I had seen Hasan Habib go into the WPT final table with a massive chip lead and lose it all to a punk with a tenth of his chips.
I needed to be careful.
I was small blind and raised with A10.
The big blind folded to me.
I then raised my big blind with nothing.
Again, they folded.
I raised the next hand with j9.
Crazy all-in guy called.
I hit nothing on the flop, but called his bet.
I called him all the way to the river and he beat me.
Damn it. That was not careful at all.
OK. No more of that raising nonsense.
The next hand I capped up the small blind with my 34.
Crazy all-in guy raised twice the big blind.
I called.
The flop came 737.
I checked.
Crazy all-in guy bet half of his remaining stack.
Figuring that if he had a 7 he would have checked or gone all-in, I called.
The turn was a 4.
And now here is where I have my historical poker moment.
“How much do you have left?” I asked all-in guy.
“About 975.”
“OK. “
I stacked 975 chips and put them forward.
“FUCK! You’re just running over me here.”
I sat completely still behind my D&G sunglasses.
“Is there a third place prize?”
No, said Cash, who had returned to the game and was serving as dealer.
“Fine. I call.”
He turned over KQo.
The river was an Ace!
I was heads up for the third time that day. And for the third time I had a commanding lead over my opponent.
Be careful, Dawn!
I raised the big blind with A8.
He folded his small blind.
I raised my small to equal his stack.
He called.
I turned over 38o.
He flipped Q7
My 8 hit on the flop.
His 7 hit on the river and that was all she wrote, I won my second tournament in as many months!
I ran over to tell Pyro of my success!
“I was totally crazy short stacked and came back to win!”
“You didn’t just beat them, you put your foot on their necks, Cash added, explaining that crazy all-in guy was a very good tournament player.
Cash left to go play another pick up tournament.
“You wanna come?”
“uhh..no.” Lightening doesn’t strike the same place twice.
(OK pearatty, you can look now.)
Pyro and I went up the roof of the house.
I climbed into the hammock…hoping it would hold me and of course, fell out trying to shift to the middle.
I lay in the setting sun arguing securities laws with her until our host and Karol came upstairs to join us.
The sun was setting now and we started to make plans for our departure.
“It shouldn’t take too long to get back to the city,” the host said.
“Yeah, and if we have Karol drive it’ll take even less time,” Pyro observed.
I put my fingers in my ears. I don’t wanna know about it.
However, the words “my license is a little bit suspended” seeped right through my finger seal.
“But it’s not my fault,” Karol protested.
“Dude. Pyro, you’re driving back.”
As we walked back to the car, Karol was whining about losing her England/America pin and I was thinking about my twenty bucks.
“Oh well,” I said sliding into the backseat and counting up my tournament winnings. I may have lost twenty bucks and busted out of the heads up tourney, but I way ahead for the weekend. All in all a win for Dawn Summers.”
“HEY! If you’re not you in the blogosphere, you can’t be Dawn Summers in real life,” Karol protested.
She won thirty bucks on the night by coming in second in the loser’s tournament (first loser I believe that place is called) and then bluffing me in a heads up tournament between the two of us.
On the way back Pyro and I tried to teach Karol and Cash how to play the Kevin Bacon game.
We gave up when Karol insisted that Ving Rhames and Michael Clarke Duncan were the same person and wanted credit for her John Travolta to Ving Rhames in Pulp Fiction-Ving Rhames to Tom Hanks in The Green Mile – Tom Hanks to Kevin Bacon in Apollo 13.
We switched to 20 questions which was immediately pronounced “way better than that stupid Kevin Bacon game” by Cash.
That game occupied our time all the to the George Washington bridge when I called shenanigans on Karol’s description of an “under thirty,” “solo”: “male singer” who used to be in ‘NSYNC and then tried to claim that was Chris Kirkpatrick even though he is over thirty, doesn’t sing professionally anymore and is now a fashion designer. And as to why I know all that, shut up.
Pyro make some questionable moves of her own when we came to the GWB, discovered hour-long traffic and she made a U-turn out of the lane into on-coming traffic. We didn’t hit anything though and the cop car a few feet ahead didn’t seem to notice what we had done.
We made it back to Manhattan, dropped off Cash and Pyro.
It was late so I decided to stay at Karol’s house.
She called Peter ahead “to warn him.”
“Ask him to call 311 and find out about parking on the street tomorrow,” I whispered.
“He says that parking meters are suspended.”
“I don’t believe him.”
“Baby, dawn doesn’t believe that you’re telling the truth.”
“Oh, this is for Dawn’s car? Well, then tell her you’re allowed to double park in front of fire hydrants tomorrow.”
We got back to her place at around 1.
Peter was very happy to see me.
Karol whined about her cut and her lost pin and regaled him with stories of Candace beating me up.
Then, and I’m guessing he was just feeling left out, Peter then told us all about his weekend of watching infomercials and how all of them always say if you buy the product right now, you get two gifts which you can keep, even if you return the product.
But it was much longer when he told it.
“Are you trying to tell us that in 6-8 weeks, Karol should expect a full set of encyclopedias?”
“Or are you wondering how they can make money,” Karol supposed.
“No,” Peter said, seemingly baffled that we thought his infomercial story needed a point.
“That was the most pointless story I have ever heard,” I said.
Peter’s face seemed to: “you’re so getting the cat sheets Dawn Summers.”
“I have to agree with her on this one, baby.”
Saved! No cat sheets for anyone.
I got the good sheets, with the good pillow and fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillowcase.

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