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Author Archive | Alison Rosen

Girls Gone Senile

You know when you’re trying really hard to remember something and you know it’s in there somewhere but you just can’t retrieve it? You do? Well I don’t, because I have a perfect memory and excellent skin.

Except apparently I went to high school with Joe Francis! I mean, I remember lifting my shirt up all the time, but I don’t remember any cameras. I just remember the principal seeming displeased.

But I saw a high school friend today and we were reminiscing about Spanish class and right there, plopped into the middle of the trip down memory lane was a story about Joe Francis being kinda douchy (okay fine—way more than kinda, I’m just being diplomatic) and getting picked on by the other kids who, admittedly, were nasty little shits, except he kind of brought it on himself so much that you didn’t even feel a tad sorry for him. Not a tad!

What’s more, apparently he looked just like he does now and went by the same name, which rules out the idea that the reason I can’t remember this is because he was a 250 pound kid who had thick glasses and went by JoJo Francesco or something.

Clearly I’ve been roofied.

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I don't care who my milk loves

But how come when the milk is straight they just call it milk but when this is going on


…well, I think you see my point. Look, I don’t care who my milk loves. It came from a cow and it’s beautiful.

Also, there is no such thing as half-and-half.

But really, this comes from Un-American English, a blog which charts “what the rest of the world means when English comes out of their mouths.” I don’t know who writes it, though I have a suspicion.

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I kind of love radio

I mean, not that I would ever give up being on TV–it wouldn’t be fair to keep the light that is my achingly beautiful face under a bushel–but it’s good to know that if I ever get mauled by a bear or even just suffer really bad acne, I would be pretty content to while away the hours on the airwaves as I did tonight on DeVore & Diana on Maxim Sirius Radio. Well, I whiled away one hour, but it was a special hour. For you, I mean.


I told Diana Falzone‘s cohost John DeVore that I’m in love with the “Five Signs” lists he wrote for Stuff magazine. They still crack me up like nothing else. Well, maybe not like nothing else, but I think they’re hilarious.

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Catch me on Sirius radio tonight

I’ll be on the DeVore & Diana show on Maxim Sirius Radio (channel 108) tonight in the 9pm hour. What’s that you say? You don’t have Sirius? (I briefly debated posting a picture right here of forgotten Australian comedian R. U. Sirious to indicate my state of incredulity but decided against it.) You can sign up for a three day trial.

Wait a minute. I just did some research on R.U. Sirious and that’s not who I mean. R.U. did a bunch of stuff including apparently edited Axcess magazine which I used to write for. I mean Yahoo Serious! For a second I thought I’d invented this carrot toppy person out of thin air which would be both impressive and alarming. But he exists. Look, here he is playing violin in a bucket!


Anyway, tune in tonight. And check out Diana Falzone’s cool viral video, linked to by Comedy Central.

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next time, try flattery

As a rule I don’t really believe in re-posting emails I get however every now and then one arrives in my inbox that is so charming it demands public airing.

UPDATE: I took the email down. I didn’t feel right about posting an email someone had taken the time to send me, even if had some sparkling backhanded gems in it.

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Uh-oh, I have the puns

If I drew cartoons for The New Yorker, not only would I do these, but I would draw one of a hunk of chedder telling an obscene joke and the caption would be “Blue Cheese.” I can’t decide whether it should be a very animated wheel of cheese or if it should be a hunk of cheese dressed up like Andrew Dice Clay standing on a stage in front of a brick wall doing dirty standup. As if the cheese is working blue.

I guess I’ll leave that up to the cartoonists.

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ClassyPiñata.com

Last night I hung out with carbo-loading internet celebrity Mike Boyle, AKA The Donut Reporter, who let me know with, dare I say, a bit of an edge in his voice that his blog “isn’t just about donuts.” Or maybe he said, “my blog isn’t really about donuts.” I forget—since he wasn’t talking about me, I was only pretending to be listening. This was on our way back from the aforementioned meat party which, incidentally, was thrown by a vegetarian and didn’t involve actual meat but did involve someone coming up to me and saying the words I’ve forever longed to hear, words usually reserved for Scott Baio, Bill Maher and Kato Kaelin: “Hey, didn’t I meet you at the Playboy Mansion?” (Yes, he had actually.)

Earlier in the night, Donutz and I were talking about his insane blog traffic after his being mentioned on Blogs of Note. I told him I’m just dying for a taste of that sweet sweet blogs of note pie because I am a blog and I am noteworthy.

But lady blogs of note is a fickle mistress. Still, I will keep wishing and hoping for my moment.

In the meantime, let me tell you about my exciting idea for a business venture. Classypiñatas.com!

A piñata filled with high-end goods like individually wrapped filets, cravats, cigars, healthy orphans ready for adoption, etc. Think about it. Why must your piñata be filled with sweet tarts and plastic spiders and the like? Would the Real Housewives of Orange County bust open a piñata filled with that crap? I don’t think so!

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