Author Archive | Alison Rosen

“Whatever the party is, that’s the party I’m at.”

This is something that Grant Show’s character says to… that other guy. Bruce? I forget his name. The one without a mustache who isn’t Roger. Anyway, it’s kind of poetic in its laid back mellow grooviness.

I could use more of this sentiment. I’m more like “Whatever the party is, I’d like to change it into something else or at least retain that option.”

I mean, not that I’m not the greatest party guest ever, because I am. You’d be lucky to have me at your party. I tell jokes, I mingle, I sample the snacks, I do this funny thing where I dribble water out of my mouth (note: I retired that one because it became rote, but it might be time to put it back in rotation) sometimes I even have so much fun I puke in your bathroom!

But metaphorically speaking, I keep my coat on. And literally I often do too.

Just got finished shooting a bunch of stuff for the biography channel and now I'm on my way to red eye in car number 69. Good thing I'm too mature to point that out. (Or to poing out that this is the second time I've gotten this number. That's a missed joke quantity of 138). Anyway, clearly I'm very important. I guess that's all I have to say.

Oh and this is very last minute, this red eye, or else I'd have sent out homemade jam with little cards attached announcing this appearance. (As per my usual.) What's that? You aren't on the jam mail list? How sad! How can you preserve the appearances? Get it? (Off to shoot myself now)
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Yeah that’s right, you… Don’t even start with me right now because I am just not in the mood. I’ve had it up to here with your sass, your lip, your guff, your backtalk, your sassafrassyness and your general indecency when it comes to things involving mustaches.

Okay, so I wasn’t going in that direction, but the word didn’t come to me fast enough so mustaches will have to do.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go study celebrities for this thing I’m doing tomorrow, but I have my eye on you, senor.

Anyone know how to make a tilda? Anyone? Little help with the fucking tilda?

Boy, I am in some mood.

Actually, the above was meant as a joke, or perhaps the beginning of a monologue to be performed in a small Latin American country, but the reason I’m in this mood is because I’m currently involved in the most retarded disagreement with someone over who blew the other one off first.

AND IT’S GETTING IN THE WAY OF MY READING UP ON JULIA ROBERTS AND MR. T.

Michael Ian Black is hilarious and I say that as someone who totally knows him and by that I mean we exchanged a couple emails and he told me to ask David Schwimmer why he, Schwimmer, who directed MIB’s movie Run, Fatboy, Run is “such a fag.” He probably didn’t want me to repeat that though, that’s how close we are. He says things to me in emails that he doesn’t want me to repeat. And here I am, just going on and on and on about our private correspondence.

But it’s not just the long letters he sends me which are private and very long and handwritten in Lucida Grande 10 pt. Our relationship is more than just epistolary. Once we talked on the phone… on the radio! The radio you get on your computer! Michael Showalter was also there but he was actually there in person, and I was sitting on his lap. It was like a very competitive game of musical chairs that only I was playing.

Anyway, Michael Ian Black wrote this, and it’s funny. That’s what all the above exposition was leading up to.

And yes I do think I’m better than you because I use big words.

And the way I misspell them? I find that refreshing and encourage you to do the same.

Well, let’s just say I don’t feel good about it.

Interestingly, I learned that this mournful gem (as performed in my head, that’s what it is. Like a sad emerald, or a doleful opal, or a dispirited topaz) is from Sondheim’s A Little Night Music. I thought it was from some musical about a circus. Is there a musical about a circus? Goodbye And Thanks For All the Rubber Shoes? It’s Always The Poodle? Honk is a Four-Letter Word? (that last one could also be a musical about traffic). Carnival?

I thought it was from Carnival, but I was wrong.

Unfortunately now I have that free credit report song in my head because that one sits in there ready to jump in whenever there’s a silent moment. It’s like mold. Or rust. Or pink eye (a germ which is apparently always around, waiting for a weakness in your immune system).

I would never try to replace you, loyal readers! I just want you to have more friends to play with.