Red Eye was a blur but I’m pretty sure I meant to say “you besmirched Natalie” and instead said “you besnirched Matalie.” Then I tried to correct myself by saying, “I mean, you besnirched Matalie!”
Author Archive | Alison Rosen
I am on the plane
Next to a guy whose olfactory je ne se quoi I do not dijon. (Just wanted to say something French…ish.) Oh crap! We have to turn off devices now.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
I'm the kind of person who posts photos like this
Tobey on his little bed with a toy
The best thing I heard last night
I’m not sure this will be amusing to anyone who doesn’t live in Orange County, or even to anyone who does, however it was the kind of crystalline little moment that expresses so very much, including why I moved away:
“We had dinner tonight at Wing Stop. It’s that new place that opened up next to Condom Revolution.”
That said, I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m judging OC, or looking down my nose at it, or harshing its mellow, because my relationship with this place is complex and I’m not sure I really have it figured out. There’s more about me that’s OC than I want to admit, something which I’m aware of now and again when I’m in New York, flashing my fake breasts at everyone. It’s just what I do.
What was I saying? I forget. It’s all very “wherever you go, there you are.”
Except I expect to adopt some kind of new Sun Valley personality while there. I’m not sure what that will be yet.
Sun Valley, Idaho
Does anyone frequent Sun Valley, Idaho? I’m going there for a story next weekend and I’ll have a little bit of time to kill at the beginning, although I plan to spend that time getting lost on the drive from the airport to the hotel. Maybe I’ll fall off the side of a mountain! Anyway, if there’s anything you guys know of that I should make sure check out, let me know.
about prunes
So, I think I owe you my much ballyhooed prune observation, however I worry at this point that it’s been oversold, over ballyhooed, over trumpeted. Can it possibly live up to the expectation? Because this isn’t prune brilliance or prune enlightenment or any sort of shriveled bit of prunevana. It isn’t even a prune epiphany. If it were served over an omelette it might be prunes over my hammy, though. (incidentally, I used to hate puns. what happened?)
But here goes: the other night I’m looking at a can of prunes and the back says,
“For hors d’oevres, stuff a prune with a cheese wedge, a crunchy walnut or a chocolate kiss.”
If you could hear the reaction I had in my head to each suggestion it would sound like “uh huh…. uh-huh, okay… what the fuck?”
When has anyone ever shoved a chocolate kiss in a prune and why would someone ever? To make the prune more exciting? Or the chocolate less?
You know how they say that anything you can think of has been done? So like if you think of some incredibly perverted sex act involving a carrier pigeon, one that probably defies the laws of physics, you just know that someone, somewhere has tried it. The grossest most liquidy and arcane things you can possibly conjur have been tried.
And yet, I just bet no one has ever stuffed a prune with a chocolate kiss. If I’m wrong, I would like to hear about it. All you chocolate prune stuffers, make some noise.
"promoterol"
I think I just heard this word in a commercial for some kind of asthma drug. I may have misheard it, however if it exists (as a made-up word) I think it’s:
a) awesome
b) something PR people should take
c) something publicists run on
d) something publicists run their car on
e) something you could accuse someone of taking if they’re acting too self-promoting
f) like “what the fuck, are you mainlining promoterol?”
g) or “someone took their promoterol…”
h) or, if someone is being overly self-deprecating you could wonder if they FORGOT to take their promoterol!
i) god, possibilities: endless!
q) I’m tired of the alphabet
w) so this guy and I were once talking about what we wanted on our tombstones
k) I’m fighting the urge to make a pepperoni joke
x) and I said “she liked words”
e) and then I added “more than people”
s) I forget what he said
p) I kind of suck
v) I mean, not in general, but just, if you’re having that kind of goth conversation you should really remember what the other person said
clips from Biography Channel
Someone wanted to see some of my more straightforward reporting so I made this not very fancy video which I’m sharing with you, lovers, because I keep no secrets from you. What’s mine is my blog’s is yours. Also, I’m kind of shaky/overworked right now but I met the scary deadlines, I think. I say “I think” because sometimes turning in a story is like kicking a wayward child out of the nest—a lot of work and yet you know he’s likely to return with a few STDs or knocked up with editor’s notes. Oh, also I should say that I think maybe I was confusing in my post about going to LA. I went there to interview other people. One for Page Six Magazine and one for Maxim magazine. Not job interviews, except actually they are job interviews, just not for jobs. Did that make sense? Nothing makes sense anymore I’m so tired. I went to rest my head against the wall and because I’m retarded I “rested” my head too quickly and kind of bounced my head off the wall. It was refreshingly painful really. Like a breath of fresh head trauma. Like a concussive blast of nerve endings. Okay, here’s the video. I’m longwinded when my brain is pushing on my skull.
prune tease
When I have a moment later, readers, remind me to regale you with a deep thought I had about prunes! I was going to say remind me to regale you with an observation I had about prunes but for some reason that suggests that I myself ate the prunes and then observed, which is not what happened. It was more conceptual. And more from afar. Sort of like here I am on the sidelines, noticing things. Things about prunes.
Hello from the depths of deadline hell
Blog readers, I have not forsaken you, I promise. My love for you grows each day. Sometimes I look at you and my heart swells. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I have an embolism[UPDATE: I MEAN ANEURYSM. THIS REALIZATION KEPT ME UP LAST NIGHT. NOT THAT MY LOVE FOR YOU ISN’T LIKE AN AIR BUBBLE] kind of love for you.
I’m just in deadline hell right now, which is a later stage of what I was claiming to be in a few days ago, which was article-writing hell. I’ll put it in Red Eye intro terms: If stress were horses, I’d be taking a crap in Central Park right now. But you see, I haven’t forgotten you, not one bit. I’ve been holding each of you in my swollen heart. In fact, yesterday I held you in my heart as I traveled up and down the 405 freeway. And for how long were you trapped in there near my ripe bosoms? Well I had to be in WeHo (that’s West Hollywood and I can’t figure out if it’s said ironically or not) at 10:30am so I left at 8:18am. I was flying down the freeway listening to music and thinking about how maybe I could get used to this driving lifestyle again and maybe I ought to give LA a chance (yes I’m from here but never really considered living in LA as an adult. So Cal was just a place I was caught for some years in an in-between stage, but that’s a story for another day). Anyway, so I’m flying along and loving everything and the morning is glowing and my chakras are oscillating and then I hit a half hour stop-and-go nightmare in Long Beach and I watched minutes tick by and everything slowed and got blurry and distorted and I wanted to punch everyone and everything and the world no longer held much promise, just a trafficky snarl extending out, forever, to the horizon. So finally after nearly running a light which made my heart beat in an exhilarating and yet potentially deadly way, I got to the damn interview. I could go into the rest of the day, but suffice it to say I saw a lot of famous people at the Polo Lounge, site of interview number two, and I longed for the convenience of the subway. “If I were doing this in New York, doing two interviews in one day wouldn’t be stressful at all because I wouldn’t have to drive,” I explained to my LA friend. “If I were in New York, I would be thinking, this is stressful, I wish I were driving,” he said. So there you go.
Oh and the ride home was a couple hours not including getting lost on the way to the gas station first.