First I flip through “for pleasure” but don’t actually read any of the features. Then I go to the obits to make sure no one I knew or who was young died. Then I glance at the births to see if anyone I know had a kid and to make sure lots of people younger than I am aren’t popping out babies because if they are, there might be something wrong with me. Then I start looking at the alumni notes beginning with about ’85, I’m not sure why. I scan to see if anyone I know is doing anything interesting. Then I make sure no one younger than I am has published a book. Then I look at the photos to see if anyone I know has gone hiking, gotten married or visited the campus (photos are always only of these things). Then I think about emailing or calling classmates to ask them if they saw that so-and-so did this or that, but I don’t actually do this. This whole project eats up somewhere between six and eleven minutes.
Author Archive | Alison Rosen
Clips from Red Eye on May 31
A photo I stole from The Activity Pit
Did I say stole? I meant borrowed. Anyway, I’d like to point out that this is not an accurate representation of my teeth which, in real life, are more white and straight looking than this. Also, off camera I am a petite blond woman who answers to the name “Madge” and is allergic to dairy.
In other news, I love Jeopardy and really can’t stand Wheel of Fortune. When I hear the WoF music come on I can’t change the channel fast enough. If I let it run for a little while because I’m busy doing something else I feel like I’ve somehow let myself down. It’s reminiscent of how I felt when the Arli$$ music came on after Sex and the City. This is related to nothing above, by the way. And I’ve decided to forgo italics. Fuck you, italics. No time.
(Was it convincing? Because I totally DO have time for them, but I don’t want them to know.)
Clips from Red Eye on June 12
I’m finally uploading some videos. Get excited!
Nostalgia is a bruise I occasionally push on
Sometimes I’m so goth and emo I astound myself!
Here’s one side of an IM conversation I had with an old friend last night, shortly before I went into the bathroom and started cutting. (note: I didn’t start cutting.)
ME: hello!
ME: so I clicked on Satisfaction’s page on myspace
and then I saw a Smile profile and clicked on that
and listened to a song
ME: and it reminded me so much of the old days and playing in a band and even before that, just being at shows where you guys were playing and hanging out with you and rob over ten years ago
ME: that it was like this poignancy balloon burst in my heart
I think I had a nostalgia aneurysm
it was fairly unpleasant
ME: sometimes I get hit so hard by old memories I feel like my heart is getting squeezed
I cried tonight
While watching Next Food Network Star! I don’t know what’s wrong with me. That piece of crap Sex and the City movie didn’t pull any tears from me like it did everyone else with ovaries but this emotional roller coaster which, I might add, featured Martha Stewart tonight, did. “I don’t want to be annoying,” said Kelsey, through tears. And the thing is that she is annoying, but in that moment I felt for her. I, too, don’t want to be annoying. Is it her fault she’s really really really perky? I haven’t been this caught up in a show since… I don’t even know!
I believe in a separation of church and band-aids
“Thanks for shopping at Duane Reade. You have a blessed day.” That’s what the check out person at Duane Reade said to me today after ringing up my purchase of band-aids and Aveeno Creamy Baby Wash. (I like to wash myself with creamy babies.) It was kind of jarring, for want of a better word. Then again, today is Sunday. Is this a special Sunday thing? Does she suit her salutation to the day of the week? Actually, I move that from now on clerks work the day of the week into their greeting because it can be hard to remember what day of the week it is. Also, they should say the time. They should basically just time-stamp their chatter. Like “Thanks for shopping at Duane Reade on Monday at 4:34.”
The 62nd Annual Tony Awards
Usually when I watch awards show I think to myself, “my god, who writes this crap?”
This is no exception.
And Adam Duritz? With the dreadlocks? Still?
It's storming in NYC right now
I just literally jumped from the thunder. Then I did a double axel, since I was already in the air, and I landed in the splits. I held it for a few extra seconds, breathing hard but making sure to smile at the judges, particularly that hard-hearted Olga who, well, let’s just put it this way, she’s… no, I’m just going to say it: She’s a bitch. I met her once at a cocktail party for the Seoul Olympics and she just gave off bad vibes. Like, get over yourself, Olga. You think you’re so fancy because you invented the figure skate? You think you’re all that because you survived a horrible cartwheel accident that left your partner in a coma? You think you’re so high and mighty because Oprah featured your book “Skating with God; My Life on the Rocks” on her show? Well I don’t think so, Olga. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have freezer burn on my legs.
Possessing neither porch nor pitcher
I’m sorry, blog readers. I posed a question and then didn’t ever answer it. What kind of jerk am I? I’m a jerk who’s drunk on the power of you wanting to know the answer! Will I tell you? Well will I?
Yes. The answer is J. I do not make sun tea. But I’m touched that you would even think I might!