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Author Archive | Alison Rosen

Sounds great, talk to my agent!

This is what my agent told me to tell people who want me to do stuff for them, if I want him involved, and then he said that he says it to his wife all the time, which I thought was pretty funny. But then I was thinking that really, “Sounds great, talk to my agent,” should be the title of a blog or self-published book, don’t you think?

I feel like the person writing it would be named Scott or Kevin and he would have very dark almost shellacked hair and he would live far from either coast but have summer stock experience. Also, he probably had a guest spot on Law and Order and then you’d click the screen grabs and find out that really he was just an extra on Law and Order during a trip where he came to the city for his cousin’s bachelor party. His special skills would involve juggling, doing an Italian-American accent, The Alexander Technique and PowerPoint.

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Also

Also, just to paint the picture of my kind of sad but ok with me Friday night, Swingtown was so good that even though I was watching it all by myself I actually, at one pivotal point, began slapping my own thigh and saying ‘Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” I hesitate to say what it was, lest anyone else is watching this show and I spoil it. However I don’t think that’s the case so I’ll just say it was when Bonnie killed Juniper.

Ok fine, there’s no Bonnie and certainly no Juniper and no one has been killed.

But if there had been, I’m sure that would have been a big moment.

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Freakishly large breast implants and cockapoo lesbians

As I’ve said before, for some reason I don’t like to blog about search terms however every now and then they’re just too good to keep to myself, like a pair of freakishly large breast implants or cockapoo lesbians, which are a couple of the terms recently used to reach my blog. Also, it appears that a number of people are trying to get to Fox & Friends’ Alisyn Camerota but finding me instead so to them I’d like to say: might I interest you in a pair of freakishly large breast implants or cockapoo lesbians? I’d also like to say that while I’m not she, I’ve met her more than once and even hung out with her and her husband at a bar/restaurant, how jealous are you? Very, I imagine.

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Woohoo, Friday night!

Swingtown was so good tonight I can’t handle it! Did anyone else watch? I’m really the only person watching this show, aren’t I? Also, the news story about the heartless cop who stopped a couple who were rushing their choking poodle to the vet and who wouldn’t let them go while their dog was dying in the backseat is putting a strain on my swollen tear ducts. And lastly, I had this conversation with my dad:

My dad: Your fans are so nice!
Me: I know! SO nice!
My dad: I love them!

And now I’m going to go to sleep and wake up in about fifteen hours. If anyone asks, I had a wild and crazy Friday night that involved interactions with fellow human beings in loud places. I probably busted a move or two.

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You guys are the best!

Thanks for making this button, Ted! If I had a binder, I would put this on it. And really, thank you all for the really nice comments. Sometimes this blog is better than a puppy! (Imagine if I had this blog AND a puppy?! I would be showered with affection from all sides. So very tempting.)

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A shot from Red Eye last night


Usually when I’m on TV I’m able to escape completely from all the stuff gnawing at me in real life and just go into performer mode, which I think is why I like it so much, but last night for some reason I couldn’t get away from anything and so I just felt a little weird the whole night. Not sure how apparent it was, but you can kind of see it in this photo.

And then I beat myself up because I feel like if I were a TRUE professional I should be able to get past anything that might be weighing on me. I mean, not to be ghoulish, but I went on TV the night after I found out my grandma died and it provided a welcome distraction.

Anyway, yeah. I want to live in a safe little TV bubble but last night dumb things—inconsequential things really—were intruding!

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Apparently I'm not the dinner partying kind

So I was talking to my mom earlier on the phone about apartments and I was saying that one was so small it was more like a dorm room than an apartment and you wouldn’t want to have people over and she was asking if you wouldn’t be able to have anyone over, not even one person, and I was saying that you could have one person over but you’d never want to have a dinner party.

At that point she kind of scoffed and chortled, she scfortled, as if I am not the dinner party type. I am SO the dinner party type and the fact that she can’t see my inner casserole dish and the oil and vinegar cruets behind my eyes—well that kind of hurts. If you stab me with a dinner fork do I not bleed? If you shove little corn poker things onto the ends of ears of corn does it not make them cuter? (it does! and easier to eat! not that I’ve had corn in a million years, but that’s beside the point)

Anyway, just because I haven’t entertained in a zillion years and just because I wouldn’t know human companionship if it came up and bit me on my agoraphobic tushy does not mean that I don’t know how to throw a fun fest for a few fancy friends.

And to prove it, I thought I’d detail the itinerary:

First my guests would arrive and we’d chit chat while assembling my furniture. Then we’d eat pretzels. Then we’d play dress up. Then we’d skip rocks. Then we’d take a nap. Then we’d help me lift heavy things and change any bulbs that are out that I can’t reach. Then we’d play sardines. Then I’d sing a song for everyone. Then we’d make a toast. Then we’d have quiet time where you could read or nap or color or play with stickers. Then we’d go miniature golfing or roller skating, I haven’t decided. Then we’d probably go out to dinner. Then we’d watch a movie on my home movie theater. Then we’d take funny photos. Then the shuttle would come to take everyone home.

See? I know dinner parties!

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TGIWT

My dad has informed me that he agrees with the commenter who said it’s always confusing when I say I’m going to be on Red Eye on a Wednesday night because does that mean Tues/Wed or Wed/Thurs? In this case it means Wed/Thurs!

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