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Thanksgiving seasons

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I’m sitting at the kitchen table of my parents’ house sweating my lady balls off. Everyone says there aren’t any seasons in CA however there are seasons in this house. It’s nuclear winter in my old bedroom and Dante’s Inferno in the kitchen. Those are some of the seasons right? My understanding is that these are the seasons:

Spring
Summer
Fall
August
Autumn
Winter
Winter Squash
Tennis
Cricket
Racketball
Blue
Seven
Dante’s Inferno
Gary’s Inferno
Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride
Nuclear Winter
Nukuler Winter
Fred Winter
Shelly Winters
Indian Summer

So last night I shivered into bed wearing sweatpants, socks, a nightgown and sweatshirt and then slept under a duvet and three blankets. I’m not even making this up. Now I’m in another room sweating. And I’d adjust the air/thermostat/air conditioning/what have you but my parents bedroom is not only another season but another time period entirely (Paris before The War, if you must) (basically the problem is that the whole house is set up so their bedroom is a toasty 70 or whatever they like it at, the rest of the house be damned) and I’m afraid I’ll broil them or flash freeze them or whatever if I adjust anything.

In other news, there is no other news.

Oh wait, well there is this. Remember when I took up biking over the summer? And then I got back to New York and borrowed Dustin’s bike and named it Ernesto and it’s currently sitting in my kitchen and I don’t ride it because it doesn’t fit me well? Well my sister’s bike which fits me better is here in CA and yesterday my mom’s handy man who is 6’5″ or maybe 6’8″ and helps put up holiday lights and remodels cabinets and removes dead rats and is like family to us told me yesterday he enjoyed watching me on TV to which I responded that I simply CANNOT live like this, having to interact with fans in my own home. Then I stormed into my room, put on a parka and began shrieking.

Anyway, he got the bike down from the hooks where it normally hangs and so perhaps I’ll ride it as a way to offset the junk I fear I’ll be smuggling in my trunk this holiday season. Tusks mostly. And those tiny turtles which are illegal but so adorable.

And thanks to everyone who joined in the live Ustream show last night. That was fun!

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New Blog Column: My New Thing (plus other stuff)

As a tireless historian of my own antics I’ve decided to start a new blog column called My New Thing wherein I document my various activities as one would a toddler’s. So for example:

My New Thing: Waking up really early and moving to the couch and falling asleep there for a few hours.

My Old Thing: Frottage

In other news, this new hand lotion I’m using smells kind of like a diaper. Perhaps one day soon smelling like a diaper can be my new thing?

And in other other news, I have an audition tomorrow morning for something I really hope I get unless the casting director is reading this in which case, hey, no big deal, easy come easy go. Unless a more passionate attitude is in order in which case I’d totally trade my left diaper hand for this role. Or something.

And in other other other news, I’d like to tell you all about what happened when I blew my nose this morning however even I am going to draw the line at snot. (Drawing the line at snot is my new thing.)

And in other other other other news, I didn’t make it to Dustin’s pig roast yesterday because I’m a bad friend who cannot shake the lingering effects of this swine flu and I didn’t want to get reinfected by the guest of  honor (the pig, not Dustin). I’m thinking of changing my email signature to, “Just so you know, eventually I’m going to disappoint you.” What do you think? Catchy, right?

In other other other other other news, I’m flying to CA tomorrow after the audition.

In other other other other other other news, I wrote a tweet wherein I said “Newtons, go fig or go home” which was really just because I wanted to make the pun. I later came clean regarding my fundamental okayness with various Newton flavors. Then I started thinking of more puns:

Sausage? Go pig or go home.

Archeology? Go dig or go home.

Stage lights? Go Klieg or go home.

Sticks? Go twig or go home.

Irish dancing? Go jig or go home.

I think you can see where that’s going.

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Lick my back and slap me on a letter

Last night on the Ustream chat we talked to my dad about many things including his zest for stamp collecting. Has there ever been a more riveting sentence? Keep your pants on, you guys!

Anyway, viewer SimmaDownNa sent me a delightful image he thought my dad might enjoy but I think all of us will enjoy it, so I’m putting it here. The ooh-ing and ah-ing commences now.

Rosen Stamp

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This is so stupid

So a few days ago I went to look at my wikipedia entry, the creation of which I had nothing to do with but periodically I check for hacking, and discovered  it’s being considered for deletion. At first I was concerned as I was none too fond of the idea of literally being erased but then I decided that really I don’t care because there are 8 million things about me on the internet and I know I exist and this is pretty much out of my control. Plus, I have better things to do with my time than fight for something capricious and also, as I explained to my mom, I have a feeling if this page were to be erased a new one would crop up soon enough anyway since I actually do exist and I’m so notable that sometimes I feel intimidated in my own presence. “That’s OK, you can talk, go ahead,” I say gently to my own reflection. Then I yell jinx because we said it at the same time. Then we have a staring contest and ultimately make out.

So ANYWAY, I am sick right now and really I should be putting the finishing touches on my book proposal since I told the agent I thought I’d have it to her by last week and also, see above paragraph which I wrote after drunkenly reciting the serenity prayer.

BUT, want to know what I just did for the last hour or so? I google searched the living hell out of my name, not only my current name but also Alison M. Rosen and Alison Michelle Rosen which I used to go by, to try to find things which prove I exist and am notable. Is my legacy really going to be that I asked Mayor Koch if he’s gay and then he asked me a question about blow jobs? I think it’s possible.

In other news, I had a gay old time (poor choice of words) running errands earlier and took a couple photos which I twittered. Perhaps you’d like to see them…again? I think you would.

But I hardly know it!

Nature had a little too much to drink last night.

Oh and I think I’m doing Bill Schulz’s Strategy Room magazine show on Friday again. And my Ustream show on Wednesday. And I have a story in the NY Post on Sunday. See, I AM important. I AM I AM I AM!

Also  notable?  I changed my sheets this morning. Totally made an ill-fitting bottom sheet my bitch.

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