Archive | Uncategorized

I think the sound might not be synced up correctly. Are you noticing that as well? Hm.

Oh and one more thing: where is everyone? where are all my commenters? are you guys having trouble leaving comments or is it just kind of slow right now? If there are problems with the commenting system let me know by semaphore or morse code. Or email me: alisonmrosen [at] gmail [dot] com.

With  Natali Del Conte at Anna David‘s book party. I could tell you more, and oh, I shall, but it’s been a long night made longer by the way I waited for the subway for fucking ever because I’m on a sad little budget and then realized that lo and behold it wasn’t ever going to come. Not ever. At least not between the hours of late and later this month because of late night track work and also it smelled like the worst kind of rotten cheesy feet down there and everyone had their  noses buried in their shirts and it was one of those nights where you pinch yourself because you’re living the dream if the dream is to be struggling in New York waiting for a train that’s never coming while sniffing cheese feet. But before all that it was fun.

What kind of fun? Well Seth Herzog made a joke about putting boots on an octopus, hence ‘pus in boots which is still cracking me up. And Doug Benson was there and then left and then came back, that’s how much fun it was. And I ran into Amelie Gillette with whom I worked on a TV show in Canada and we reminisced about Canada which is never not fun even if mostly what I remember is that it was all early in the morning and dreamlike. But fun! And I drank some coffee late at night. “She’s trying to wake up,” Doug explained. “Yeah, so I can go to sleep,” I further explained, confusing  myself. It totally worked though because now I’m tired and awake!

On that note I’m going to go sit in the corner and rock back and forth while yelling at my shoulder. I might tug at my shirtsleeves too. Then I’ll nervously pick at my face while crying.

Also, wow! Could this photo be any larger? I don’t think so.

Also, I promise I’ll be funny again soon. Any day now.

Okay so I’m at a cafe with my laptop being one of those people who sits at cafes with their laptop getting stuff done. Based on a scientific survey of myself, I can tell you a little about what those people who sit at cafes on their laptops actually get done:

Not much.

I plan to rectify this soon by going parachuting with my laptop. I figure the sensation of the wind whipping through my hair and probably giving me some kind of air wedgie will break this seal of inactivity.

Crap, I just remembered another thing I haven’t done which I need to do: buy a parachuting outfit. What, you think I can parachute in this ballgown? Never again. This is strictly a sitting and looking pretty crinoline.

Did you? Because I sure missed you. I missed you so much that I added the paypal donate button to its own page. I realize that logic is tenuous and you might not realize how my offering you a chance to donate money to me is a sign of how much I miss you but you see, I work in mysterious ways. Just go with it. In exchange for your donations I promise to keep being funny and delightful. Perhaps I could sweeten the deal by promising never to sing? Never to make you eat meringues? Never to cheat on you with other readers? I’m joking however I’m going to start offering media training, speech writing and public speaking coaching services so if you know anyone who needs help getting ready for an engagement, send them my way!

In other news I’m very sleepy and I need to write my McSweeney’s column and last night I ate some shrimp that had heads on them. I removed the heads before eating them but still. Actually, I have more to tell you about the shrimp heads and dinner and a realization I had on the way home which involves retainers but I think I’ll save that for the candlelit dinner I plan to have with all of you tomorrow morning.

I love you.

Do you think that’s a good breezy sign off? I think so too. Or should I go with something more casual like:

Don’t leave me!

It’s cheerful, right? Ends on an up note?

Ha. Haha. Ha. Get it? My back end? Do you get it? Would you get it more if I said:

Heh. Hehe.

Anyway, this isn’t actually about my tuchus or my heinie or my derriere or my caboose. It’s just about the blog. I love it because the photo of the blog makes it look like I write a gardening/cooking blog as opposed to one about butts.

Perhaps you’ve noticed things look a little different around here? That’s because I got breast implants and poured a bottle of Sun-In in my hair. Also, I got gold teeth and had some of my fingers removed. Just the ones I wasn’t using. I just wanted a change. Also, this blog is now on WordPress which is why things look different and some things are missing and I can’t stop crying. Hold me?

Thanks.

Things should be looking amazing and neato-er and running smoothly and even betterly soon.

I love you.

I know you guys would rather see photos of the fictional skinny-dipping incident instead of the very real sticker attack however I can’t seem to find them on my camera! My camera erased the fictional photos! Stupid piece of technology!

Sometimes my body gets really ambitious and instead of adjusting back to New York time from California time my internal clock jumps ahead to Chinese time. How else to explain the way I stayed up all night and then threw myself off a bridge because I haven’t given my husband any sons? How else to explain the way I stayed up all night and then ate fortune cookies? How else to explain the way I stayed up all night and then did a shot of lead paint? I don’t know which vaguely offensive cultural stereotype to go with here. What I’m trying to say though is that I stayed up late and then slept late because I’m still on California time. Let’s leave China out of this.

So last night I did stand up and it was fun and it was great to meet some fans who made the trek! I hope I was just as delightful in person as I am in… oh who am I kidding… of COURSE I was!

Um, so here’s the thing. You’ll hear people say that with stand up you get immediate feedback and instant gratification because you know right away if people are laughing or not and then you can base your relative self-worth on this. (I added that last part.) But see, as a veteran TV appearer-on and a sort of stand-up neophyte I can say that this is malarkey and hooey and bull honky and baloney and a barrel of lies and a cask of untruths and a spool of inaccurate thread and a sweater sewn out of yarn that tells tall-tales and, well, you get the idea.

Unless you don’t? Because I could go on.

Side note: In California my friend Mikelle was bit by her mom’s parrot and then Jodey started making jokes about how the bird is into MMA and ultimate cage fighting and then a little while later I was like “Yeah, it does cage-fighting!” which I suddenly realized was funny because birds are in cages but apparently that’s what Jodey meant when he made that same joke minutes before.

But back to how I’m sort of funny: from the stage it’s kind of difficult to hear the crowd reaction. Was I carried off the stage on the shoulders of the crowd? No. Did people laugh? Yes. Did they throw tomatoes? No. Did they throw cold cuts? I wish! And so I felt like I did well but like I was barreling through the material for the first 3/5 of the set and really only kind of was in the moment for the last 2/5. Say what you will about me, but I’m good with fractions.

And then after I sat down and felt this gaping neediness along the order of “will someone please validate my existence?” which I can tell you, is a very attractive feeling to have. I’m surprised more people weren’t lining up to get sucked into my yawning desperation vortex. I mean, I concealed it, but it was there.

With TV this isn’t so because you actually do get instant feedback because first of all, you can tell how you did or rather, I’ve been doing it long enough to pretty much know right away how I did. Then there are all sorts of producers and other people who’ll tell you how you did. And then you can watch the tape and see how you did. Am I coming off as completely irritating right now?

The problem arises when you suspect you did crappy but a producer is saying you did a great job but you sense they’re just being nice. That might result in a car ride home filled with doubts and What Am I Doing With My Life?s.

Which is why I really should be doing something or other for me, and not for the reaction, and yet when my life’s passion is to cook sugar free meringues and share them with the world, tell me how I’m supposed to hide that light under a bushel? You know?

Oh, in other news I need to write another McSweeney’s column wherein I give advice about life and career and money in a satiric fashion. Maybe I should answer some questions and boss you around? Put your financial/career/recessionary questions in the comments, won’t you?