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Author Archive | Alison Rosen

I need to write a book

I just do. I am too delightful and I know too many words to not have my delightfullness represented in an author photo and my words tucked between dust covers. I don’t even need my words to be alphabetical. Or real!

But really, I am tired of going to Barnes & Noble and seeing all these books by all these people and not seeing any by me.

At the same time, I hate paper in general and yesterday I got this crazy papercut when I opened up an envelope containing fabric swatches and then I had to go hunting around my apartment for bandaids and it took forever to find one. That’s what paper will do to you. It will cut you. In fact, if I drew cartoons for the New Yorker I would show an envelope saying to a woman who is about to open it, “I’ll cut you, bitch.” The envelope would be somehow made to look like it’s in prison by the way. It would be a tough menacing envelope.

But anyway, what should I write about? I need something fun and easy that doesn’t involve that much time or energy or hard work. You know, like a book I could write in the shower.

I’m joking. Kind of!

But really. Ideas? I mean, I could collect all my funny essays and some blog posts, that would be a damn good book, but it seems like a new idea would be better. I should probably clear that path to my door so more publishers can beat a path to it. Maybe I should also get a doormat that says “Welcome, publishers!”

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UPDATE regarding festive tea

After making the below post I burned my tongue! ON THE TEA!

Also, I’m all ready to upload the clips from Mike and Juliet this morning but YouTube is fixing something on the site and you can’t upload right now. They just better be back up and running soon or else I’ll be forced to take more photos of myself with inanimate objects.

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If you like festive seasonal crap

If you like festive seasonal crap then I am duty bound to tell you that now is the time of year that Celestial Seasonings puts out their special holiday themed teas. There’s Gingerbread Spice, Sugar Cookie Sleigh Ride, Last Year’s Fruit Cake, Cranberry Frostbite and Fuck, Where’d I Put The Wrapping Paper. I may have made up those last three but the first two exist and I’m telling you, they are whimsy in a cup. Need more proof? I offer the following good cheer filled picture essay.

Gingerbread Spice tea plus…

a cup, plus…

a willingness to enjoy festive tea…


I mean a real willingness, the kind evidenced by crossing one of your eyes…

and making out with your cup…


Leads to this.

The End.

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Fan Mail!

subject: saw you on M&J

body: so dunb [sic] it hurts. please stop speaking in public.

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My thoughts: It’s funny because I’m insecure about a lot of things but whether I’m “dunb” or not isn’t one of them. In fact, it’s so much not one of them that I almost think it’s plucky and perhaps splashy and maybe a little zany if I’m coming across that way on TV. Sometimes I wish I could be dunb! A dunb person would have a couch already, you know? Because imgnorance is bliss.

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I just spray tanned my feet

I did, it’s true, I couldn’t help it. I mean, I could have. I could easily not have put down a paper towel on the floor of my shower and gone to town on these pale dogs here but—wait, am I the kind of person who refers to my fluorescent feet as “pale dogs”? I don’t think so—but anyway, I could have easily not, it’s true. However I fear a swath of translucent foot may appear onscreen tomorrow and I don’t want to be accidentally sending Morse code. At the same time I don’t want to look like someone shoved two carrots out the ends of my pant legs, even though that would be kind of harvesty and seasonally appropriate. If this spray tan experiment goes horribly awry that’s what I’m going to say: “Hello, I’m here to talk about politics and entertainment. I dyed my feet pumpkin orange for the occasion. Boo!” Although now it occurs to me that I could just have said my feet were dressed as ghosts and that’s why they’re so white and “boo!” Dammit!

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How I feel about teleprompters and blackberries

I was doing a segment a couple weeks ago and I didn’t think I needed the teleprompter because I had memorized what I was going to say (it wasn’t a conversational thing, it was something where I needed to stick to the script and say the lines in a certain amount of time) and so I asked if I could try it first without the teleprompter. In general, I think producers prefer is you use a teleprompter because it’s easier for them to follow along and time things out. So anyway, I tried it and messed up and then admitted that I needed the teleprompter and as I was doing it I had this weird sense of resignation/defeat in a science fiction way, I think because I was trading a certain amount of autonomy for efficiency.

Using a teleprompter well is a skill though, sort of like being able to see the image in those 3-D posters. You have to be able to read without looking like you’re reading. Actually, I’d say it’s the second part of a two part skill set. The first is to be able to talk to the camera as if the camera is a person, because if you talk to the camera as if it’s a camera, you get this weird creeped out look on your face and it’s uncomfortable all around. I think I’ve mastered that as I can talk to any inanimate object. Sometimes they talk back.

So back to the teleprompter though, I think you can easily begin to depend on it, or … you know what? This whole thing is a long roundabout way of saying that my blackberry is messed up right now and I can’t receive email on it and even though I am sitting at the computer, where I can receive email, I still feel deeply unsettled and can’t think straight till this is resolved. And I had many metaphors and twists and turns and ways of getting from the teleprompter to the blackberry perhaps stopping off to discuss dialysis and this whole thing was heading in cyborgian science fictiony direction but I have no time for florid language or fancy theory or even metaphors because Tasha at Verizon is supposed to call me back.

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