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Author Archive | Alison Rosen

I'm top chef!

Cab Driver: So are you married, miss?
Me: Nope
Cab Driver: Really? I would have thought you be married with two kids.
Me: Yeah
Cab Driver: I’m surprised. You’re top chef. You know? Top chef. You ain’t all beat up.

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Gross! (and yet cute) AND YET GROSS!

I was watching the puppies here and all of them were nursing except there was one in the corner and I thought “Oh cute, he’s doing his own thing in the corner,” and then I realized doing his own thing meant going to the bathroom which was less cute and yet still kind of cute in a puppies will be puppies and go to the bathroom near where their mom and siblings are eating and then the mom quickly ate the poo! It wasn’t cute!

But now they’re all making puppy noises, which is cute.

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I heard puppies

I heard puppies and I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. It was on my computer! I’d left this window open: http://mfrost.typepad.com/cute_overload/2008/10/hot-saturday-ni.html

You’ll probably want to go there now.

And now, an important question that’s unrelated to puppies: Let’s say you have two important meetings coming up and you’ve noticed that your hair is really frayed at the ends and so you could really use a trim. But let’s say you are also someone who walks away from many haircuts feeling upset and like your tender follicular rights have been violated? Do you make an appointment ahead of time so your hair will look better however you’re risking being unhappy with it? Or do you just go to your important meetings with in-need-of-a-trim hair?

It’s more rhetorical, since I tried to make an appointment to get a haircut and they can’t see me until after the meetings. But, you know, just wondering what you would have done.

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Sometimes I get all deep and stuff

I have oodles of free time. So much that I hardly have a moment to myself. It’s always jet skiing and flower pressing and foreign language classes. I nearly whacked my head this morning on an egg-laying chicken as I was making my way out the door to pick up wax for letter embossing. In between the stress of that and the wooziness of giving blood, how can I be expected to fly a kite? And my cribbage partner has given up on me. That’s what was on my mind in the shower this morning.

Well, that and the arbitrariness of the days of the week. Why does the day change at midnight? And how different would everything be if it changed at noon? I think this is what you think about when you appear on a show that airs at 3am. I never know which day to assign to it. It really feels like part of the day before, yet technically it’s a new day. Hence the arbitrariness because no one really considers midnight a new day unless you’re talking birthdays or periods of time you’re trying to get through.

I mean yes, it somewhat correlates to the sun, but I don’t believe in the sun, so I refute that theory.

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