Subscribe to my Substack!!!!

Author Archive | Alison Rosen

Katy Hudson/Perry

Back in 2002 I spent a few days on Loon Mountain in New Hampshire interviewing teens for a story for Seventeen about Christian rock. I haven’t thought about it in awhile—about how fans of the band Skillet are called pan-heads, or about how I could count on a deformed baby’s more-than-ten fingers the number of times I heard about people who suffered from a “Jesus shaped hole in their heart” or about the kid who told me he tried to commit suicide after engaging in premarital sex. My original draft of the story actually led with him—I couldn’t shake the image—but, understandably, it wasn’t quite right for the magazine’s readership so I reworked the piece.

I also hadn’t given any thought to a striking and gregarious young singer I interviewed named Katy Hudson until I saw her on Gawker tonight as Katy Perry. Man she’s changed except kinda not at all.

Here’s what I wrote about her then:

Katy Hudson is a charming 18-year-old singer-songwriter with big blue eyes and messy hair dyed jet-black. She has an effortless star quality, but she’s also the kind of girl who makes you feel like her new best friend by whispering secrets in your ear and grabbing your arm to tell you something when she’s excited. Katy recently signed with the Island/Def Jam label (ironically, home to Jay-Z and Ja Rule), and she’ll be marketed in both the secular and Christian markets. She’s worldly and rebellious in a cool-kid kind of way: When some of the cute, tattooed roadie boys walk by backstage, she flirts with them. “Hey, Ethan,” she yells. “We’re talking about sex!” This gets Ethan’s attention. “I love boys,” Katy says. “Being 18, you gotta love boys.”

Katy has a steady boyfriend, but she doesn’t believe in sex before marriage. “I know what it does to people,” she says. “One night my boyfriend and I went a little too far and I felt like I’d fallen so far away from God. I doubted myself and my strength. I was so weak at the time in my relationship with Christ.”

If someone is going to have sex, however, Katy absolutely believes that person should use a condom: “Some Christians think that if you use a condom, it’s premeditated. So nobody uses a condom at all and they have sex and get pregnant the first time.”

The original piece isn’t online but I found it reprinted here.

I’m not sure how I feel about her image flip-flopping, I’d have to think about it more and the vigorous and less-than-honorable marketing of Christian music is a topic for another post, but I suspect I’m one of the few people who remembers this singer in her previous incarnation and/or has firsthand knowledge, hence this post.

Actually, you know what, I will talk about the marketing: I remember being frustrated by the way certain bands and their publicists got really slippery when you… wait, no, I’m actually not going to talk about this now. I’m too sleepy to hit all the points.

Continue Reading

Starbucks calorie counts

I don’t actually eat the food at Starbucks—I don’t have 500 calories to spare on a giant orange cookie shaped like a daisy—however I’m always interested to see the calorie counts on all the items because it makes waiting in line less boring. (In NYC restaurants with more than 15 outlets have to post the numbers.) That said, does anyone else wonder about the accuracy of those counts? I trust the high ones, but tucked in between a thumbprint scone (310) and a maple walnut swirly cluster frittata with ham and peas (I made that up) is some kind of tart thing which is huge but claims to have 190 or 120 or something.

Okay, so this post would have been better if I could actually remember names or counts, but I’m just saying I don’t trust those shifty coffee mongers.

Continue Reading

The Girls Next Door; language

I kind of love The Girls Next Door. What can I say, guess I’m just a regular red-blooded American male.

Did I ever tell you about how I went to the Playboy Mansion not once but thrice*? I did? Like a zillion times?

Okay, never mind then.

*Incidentally, my friend Trevor and I decided that there was no good reason [whatever-they’re-calleds] should stop with once, twice, thrice so we’ve added quarce, quince… oh crap. I now forget the rest of them. This is what happens when you invent a language. Is this what the minds behind Esperanto experienced?

Update! I found them:

once, twice, thrice, quarce, quince, since, sense, doublequarce, nince, and tence.

we also considered dince or dunce and then decided to keep all three as a regional thing. For example, the North says tence, the South says dince and Canadians say dunce. Then we ate paste.

Continue Reading

I just heard this on TV

“Alright, Twitch and Kerrington performed a moving Viennese waltz dedicated to their choreographer’s disabled daughter.”

I don’t mean to make light of what I’m sure is a poignant plot twist on So You Think You Can Dance, however that sentence, which I just heard on the TV Guide Channel’s Reality Chat, which, incidentally, I would like to host should they be looking for new hosts, is like something out of an S.J. Perelman essay.

Continue Reading

Toilets, starbucks

The good thing about striking out bathroom wise at one starbucks (and by that I mean not finding the restroom fast enough to avoid drawing attention to the fact that you aren't buying anything) is that you can try again at the next starbucks which is sure to be a few doors down.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Continue Reading

Overthinking

The blurriness of the reel on youtube was bothering me so I uploaded it to Vimeo. Seeing if this is any better. The problem here though is that all my other videos are on youtube so I like the idea that if someone is watching on youtube and wants to see more they are like “oh, 45 more videos!” or whatever as opposed to here where there are three videos, each of which was, I think, a blurriness test. Plus, all the comments on youtube. My precious precious comments like “Rosen yid bitch hahaha.” You know?


Alison Rosen’s extended reel–now 33% more awesome! from Alison Rosen on Vimeo.

Continue Reading

Bean Soup

A good headline for an article about poisonous soup would be “From the ladle to the grave.”

Incidentally, what the hell is going on with me and puns today? Maybe this is some reaction to going freelance. Some kind of final pun flurry before my brain accepts that I no longer have to write headlines? Or maybe I’m actually slowly losing my mind?

Continue Reading

Listen to me cough on Paltalk yesterday

Here’s the first seven minutes of my interview yesterday on the Diana Falzone show on Paltalk. A word of warning, don’t turn the volume up all the way at the beginning when it starts playing and you don’t hear anything because suddenly the music will start and it will blow your eardrums out your ears and they will splatter on the walls and then you will have no eardrums and without eardrums you [pause while I figure out what exactly will happen]

Without eardrums, you will have no rhythm section inside your ears.

Also, as the music came on, Diana said “I like to dance to the music” and you can see for a split second I kind of considered it and then thought better of it, my moves being so good that I would probably make her look bad in comparison which isn’t really a nice thing to do. It is her show, after all.

And special note to ToddRod: Yes, I am wearing The Shirt. But I’d only worn it twice on TV prior to this. (Once on Red Eye and once on F&F.)

Continue Reading

If I drew cartoons for The New Yorker…

I would draw one of two pieces of clothing on a clothesline. One would be somehow chatting up the other and would be saying, “What do you say we take this off-line?”

But that wouldn’t be the end of my clothesline cartoon oeuvre. On the contrary, it’d be just the beginning!

I’d also draw one of some kind of clearly inebriated garment on a clothesline. You know, like a drunk jacket, let’s say. Or a wasted t-shirt. Or a pair of blotto bloomers. Or a three sheets to the wind shift dress. Or hammered hemp skirt. Or a borracho sombrero. Or some knackered knickers! Maybe not the sombrero! And the person hanging this drunk garment on the clothesline would be saying “you need to dry out.”

But see, this is why I don’t draw cartoons for The New Yorker.

Bill Schulz could draw cartoons for The New Yorker if they needed doodles of two pigs in the throes of non-consensual lovemaking. It’s his signature doodle and you won’t find a better representation of said scene on the Eastern Seaboard.

Continue Reading

Site: Todd Jackson | Art Direction: Josh Holtsclaw | Original Logo: Kezilla | Show Music: Tom Rapp