Pop quiz!
Ok, if you had to be a monger would you rather be a:
a) hate monger
b) fear monger
c) fish monger
d) rumor monger
e) bongo monger (someone who spreads bongos, obviously!)
f) cookie monger
g) high five monger
h) swim goggle monger
i) poodle monger
j) paddle tennis monger
k) whole grain monger
l) grout and tile monger
m) mustard monger
Get Out of My Jello!
If I were a hot single insect looking to enjoy some randy bug on bug action before my inevitable death later that evening, I’d get my tiny segmented ass to Brooklyn because from what I can tell, it’s a real meat market for bugs around here. I mean, there are more bugs than strollers in Brooklyn right now, and that’s saying a lot.
In other news, I received something call Splenda Mist—which I purchased on eBay—in the mail a couple days ago. It looks like a small asthma inhaler filled with liquid Splenda. I’m kind of worried about what it means that my Splenda habit is escalating and taking different forms (started with packets, moved on to granular then tablets and now mist). Before long I won’t be content to wait for it to pass into my system via my stomach and will need a more direct route to my bloodstream. Should Splenda come out with Splenda Poppers I’d surely be on board. From there it’s just a short skip to smoking it in rock form and ultimately injecting it. By that point I’ll be a prostitute though—I’m not sure why, it’s just how I see it playing out—and I’ll only wear one color: Splenda yellow. Also I’ll live in a Splenda yellow house, which will make me angry all the time. I’ll be an angry whore who’s addicted to Splenda. I can’t wait!
In the meantime I’m loving the Splenda Mist though. Earlier I sprayed it on mustard and ate it plain and I only wish I were joking.
Speaking of disgusting foodstuffs, my sister convinced me to mix raspberry sugar-free jello and lemon sugar-free jello because “raspberry lemonade is really good” and the first couple bites were okay but the last 48 were unpleasant—and I think I’m realizing that I need to keep the citrus out of my jello. In fact, I have half a mind to go throw open my cupboard doors and yell “get out of my jello!” to the citrus flavors that are in there. I also want to yell it into the phone. Also every time I type yell I accidentally type yello. It’s the jello-ification of my mind.
Also last night I dragged Dustin to a party for Bill and Andy from Red Eye’s bdays and filmed us in the cab on the way home which I need to put into a Daily Alison episode and upload. So don’t think I’ve forgotten about you because I haven’t. It’s just that Splenda has become my main focus.
Why am I single?
A lot of people wonder why I’m single. Often, in fact, they will leave comments to this effect followed by an “lol” and maybe one of these: 🙂 which I assume is to indicate that they wouldn’t mind having sex with me should it turn out that the reason I’m single isn’t because of anything grody like a raging case of the herps or that I’m psycho or have my period, like, constantly. You guys, it’s all three!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I’m not saying it’s cool that I’m single. I mean, hello, when am I going to give myself some grandkids?
But here is the thing, whereas I’m quite fetching on TV—I mean, anyone can see that—in real life I’m a total dogface. A real woof. A butterface. A ‘scepter head. A pogo stick (fun to ride but you don’t want to be seen riding it.) A spatula. A broom. A carrot peeler. (I have no idea what those last three are.) I mean, I’m a real oboe. A potato. A roomba. And my voice is like nails on a chalkboard and not only that, I litter all the time. Sometimes I throw other people’s stuff on the sidewalk just for fun so it’s not only that I’m irresponsible in an environmental sense but also I’m just cruel. “Oh I’m sorry, were you reading that?” I’ll say in a silky tone after snatching a blender manual out of someone’s hand and tossing it on the floor. “Try making a smoothie now, motherfucker!” I’ll yell, laughing maniacally and then going home alone on a Friday night.
You’d think with all my singleness my sock drawer would be super organized but it isn’t. It’s a real mess, like my love life!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh my GAWD you guys don’t even know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Also, I ask a million questions during movies. Questions like “why did he do that?” and “what did she say?” and “did I call at a bad time?”
Oh and I like to light other people’s farts on fire which basically means I’m constantly accidentally setting my friends on fire.
And I have TERRIBLE taste in music. I enjoy jingles from commercials and the sounds of jackhammers.
And I grew up in a barn so I always smell like hay.
And I collect cows. My apartment is covered in cow memorabilia which I refer to as moo-iana. I call it “mom’s moo-iana” even though I’m not technically a mother to anyone besides my moo cows which are like children to me. Times were tough and I had to put a few of them on ebay. It was udderly ridiculous! OH NO I DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH YOU GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I always joke that I’m going to get mad cow disease from my cows but it’s more like they’re going to get silly human disease from me, you know??????? HAHAHAHAHA LOL HA.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
COWS 4-EVA!
So yeah, that’s why I’m single… LOL… 🙂
The Daily Alison (Where I read Dustin's texts)
The Daily Alison (Where Courtney Cummz also has a web show)
A few observations:
My God, could I be twitchier on this video? What the hell is going on with my mouth/eyebrow? It’s as if there’s a sleeping baby trapped under my face. (Have you ever watched a baby sleep? Their faces are constantly moving.)
Wait, maybe that was my only observation.
You can read more about Courtney on her site.
A conversation I just had
Me: I’m reading a book about WWII and it’s depressing the hell out of me.
Him: Maybe this will cheer you up: I think I’m interviewing Megan Fox. In person!
Me: Oh you know me so well.
The Daily Alison (Where I spit on my lip and answer more questions)
Ladies, you've been warned.
A chilling headline from the New York Times.