Alison Rosen

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…

Interior design from TV shows and movies

I should be packing. I should be packing clothes for LA and Canada and I should be putting things in bottles and then ziploc bags and I should also be stuffing socks into shoes. By my own logic, I plan to go naked in Orange County.

Anyway though, I just found this site about how to get the set design looks from TV and movies and it’s cool http://silverscreensurroundings.blogspot.com/

For someone who has so little style, it’s weird that I’m spending so much time reading about style. I don’t plan to apply it. I just like to look at the pictures. And yet my words have style. Sometimes I speak entirely in corduroy.

Also, Gossip Girl made me cry tonight.

Wear yourself out by listening to me go on and on about furniture

Earlier today I had a whole temper tantrum inside my own head and decided that when I got home I would write a blog post entitled “I don’t know how I feel about my couch. P.S. I’m neurotic and going to die alone.”

Then I found out that title had already been taken so I had to go with the one above.

See, I’ve been going back and forth on this couch. Not literally. On the upside, it’s comfortable. On the downside, sometimes I look at it and think “it looks like barf.”

But considering how goddamn long I took to decide and how annoying I was about it shouldn’t I just love it? Love it to pieces?

Because I don’t. But I think I like it. Maybe? I don’t know. I like it better now that I bought throw pillows for it (I haven’t decided which ones I like, hence the three different pillows.) Earlier tonight I decided I’d go with a silver, gold and white theme which is neato and, um, yeah. Neato’s all I got on that one. Fancy? Neato and fancy? I could do neato and fancy. And secretly Christmasy.

But then sometimes I look at the couch and think “it looks like a giant gum eraser.” I also think it looks like liver and I also think it looks like steak that’s been chewed up and spit out. Also: gristle.

But then I see it in photos and I think maybe it’s ok.

See, complicating matters is the fact that the delivery men nicked it in a couple spots so C&B offered to replace it. I explained that it was kind of difficult to get it into the space so they’re sending someone out to look at it here to see if he can patch it up in situ. What does in situ mean? Hold please.

God I’m smart.

Um, yeah, so anyway, if I act fast I could get this big gray menace out of my apartment and my life forever and then I could invite something else into my living room that I will go nuts about. Seriously, I’m sick and tired of myself.

But it’s not like I never like anything ever. When I look at my bed, my white duvet covered bed, I feel calm and good. I don’t have this crazy ping ponging meat-comparison making reaction happening.

Yet I’m not at peace with the decision to just return the fucker either. That makes me anxious too.

Let’s talk about my last apartment, shall we? I moved into it under duress. I wanted to stay in the apartment I was in before that, my first real apartment in New York, but it’s a long story and that wasn’t feasible so there my sister and I were, needing to find an apartment or break up and she had a friend who was vacating this great apartment in the village and we went and looked at it and because I couldn’t find anything else I said yeah, that’s fine. But then before we pulled the trigger I began doubting the decision and was freaking out and begged a friend from work who was later my boyfriend, unless he was already my boyfriend at the time, to go look at the place with me. We did and he reassured me that it was a great place and I would be happy there.

Sadly it was a terrible place and I was miserable there.

Or rather, it was a pretty decent place but I wasn’t happy there anyway. I never liked that apartment or that neighborhood. Also, there were mice. Oh my God, my couch looks like a big sheet of mice.

So I was thinking about all this this morning and thinking that if I’m having doubts about the couch, instead of letting myself be talked into it, I should just honor those doubts and not keep the damn thing and just wait until I find one I really feel good about.

But then sometimes I look at it and I like it.

And it’s comfortable. It’s really comfortable.

So then why not just get it in a different color?

Because that will take 12 weeks. And plus I’m trying to avoid having people remove it and bring in another one but I’m not sure why I’m trying so hard to avoid that. I mean, just because my idea of hell is moving furniture doesn’t mean that someone whose job it is to move furniture feels the same way.

But still, I just feel like I’m doing it. That thing I do. I don’t know what that thing I do is which makes it hard to know whether I’m really doing it, but I suspect I am. I mean, this feels very me in the extreme. I hate extreme me.

I’m also trying to see if it’s possible to get slipcovers for this couch. I mean, I know you can order them from C&B for about a thousand dollars but for that much, I may as well just get a different couch.

Still reading? I’m sorry to put you through this. On the upside… um…. well okay technically there is no upside. Oh wait, I know! Today I saw a woman pushing two black poodles in a stroller!

Also, I’m aware there’s a world that exists outside me and this couch. I find that annoying, too.

And then I see this photo and I like it again.

I also like ducklings.

Here I am not thinking about couches.

My couch is eleven hours old

And already I’ve fallen asleep on it and nearly lost the remote control in its butt, or whatever the appropriate furniture term for seam between the cushions is.

Also, I know the couch is much older than eleven hours but I choose to ignore the life it led before we crossed paths.

Also, unrelated, I don’t like video chatting. I just don’t. No thank you, gmail.

A joke about furniture

Note: sometimes I come up with terrible jokes, the kind that make you groan. It’s getting worse as I get older, though my allergy to cats is getting better as I get older. I don’t know what to make of this. Eventually my sense of humor will deteriorate to the point where the only kinds of jokes I can make are truly embarrassing and at that point I’ll know it’s time to have kids.

Anyway, to the joke, and I use the word “joke” loosely:

Woman: It’s an occasional table.

Man: Well, what else is it? (maybe this should be: What’s it when it’s not a table?)

Or maybe it should be “What’s an occasional table when it’s not a table?”
But then I don’t know what the answer is.

Brooklyn can’t keep its hands off me

Yesterday I went to this cute little antique or secondhand store near my apartment that had all this cool old furniture which smells cool and old and maybe a little like mothballs, but very hip vintage moth balls, not mass produced moth balls. I mean, the craftmanship that went into these balls. The elbow grease and the sweat. Someone labored over these balls. You don’t find that in the city. So anyway I was talking with the woman who worked at the store because I can be garrulous and winning when I so choose, or when the moment chooses me, I mean, who’s to say you know? So we’re talking and she asks how long I’ve been in the neighborhood and I tell her three days and she comes out from behind the counter to give me a hug and say welcome to the neighborhood. It was so sweet I almost cried! And then I told my sister later that day and she almost cried! It’s like we’re just so relieved that anyone likes me! And then today I met my landlord’s wife and daughter (they live above me) and they were super nice and gave me a sweet housewarming gift (a cute teapot and some tea) and told me I was home now and if there’s anything I need not to hesitate to ask and she gave me a hug and it was so nice I almost cried. And then I told my parents and they almost cried! I’m telling you, it’s like I’ve never known the touch of other human beings or something. Anyway, photo tour? I think so:

Here’s me on moving day in the middle of the WORST allergy attack ever. I think my nose was swollen. I cannot emphasize enough how bad this allergy attack was. It was like a cat exploded on my face. And not in a good way. A less confident person would burn this photo, not upload it, but what the hell. I dare you to love me.

Here’s one of the pieces of furniture I bought from the antique store near my apartment. Usually I like white furniture but new borough, new woodstain. Also, don’t I look like a fussy little old man with this nightstand? You can’t really tell but there is an umbrella and a bottle of aspirin on the shelf. It’s the umbrella that makes me look geriatric for some reason. I should also stick a hot water bottle under there. And my reading glasses, even though I don’t use reading glasses.
Oops, out of order. Here’s me on moving day, transporting my precious plants. That’s me with no makeup, by the way. None.

Here’s the adorable teapot I received as a housewarming gift from my landlord. I also received a tin of tea but that isn’t in this photo.

Here’s another piece of furniture I bought from the antique store. Doesn’t it kind of look like a smiley face or the face of a robot/computer in an 80s movie? I liked it until I wrote that.

Here’s a lamp I bought at this little furniture store I discovered called Ikea. Who knew I like funky lamps? I didn’t. But I do!

Here’s a rounded edge bookshelf thing I bought from that store. Not Ikea, the other one.

I also bought a “secretary” although thus far this pink thing hasn’t made me any coffee or filed anything.

Here it is, opened. It’s blue inside! I totally didn’t need this at all, however now that I have it I’ve made it my correspondence corner, in case I need to send anyone a postcard. Note: the last postcard I sent was in 1994.

Here’s a bathroom storage thing I bought from someone off Craiglist. Now my whole bathroom smells like whatever hair products the person who used to own this used. It’s a distinctive smell but I can’t place it which is frustrating. I like to think I know my Garnier from my Aquanet from my Sebastian.

I love ducklings but I realized that the love I have for my dishwasher is a close second. I LOVE this dishwasher. A friend of mine told me he finds doing dishes relaxing. I find not doing dishes relaxing.

Inside my dishwasher.

Remember how I said my freezer smells like asparagus? Well asparagus, you’ve met your match. I’m tackling the problem head on. This baking soda was lovingly shot and backlit in my freezer.
And lest that smell think of laying down roots in my fridge? Think again.

I guess that’s all for now.

I am stressed!

Again with the stress. If fear and anxiety were a pinball and my body were a pinball machine, someone would be racking up a lot of points playing me because that ball is zinging around, bouncing off my spleen and ricocheting off my ileum and then getting caught in my pancreas where you think it’s lost and then it pops out again and stuff lights up and now there’s two balls zipping around! No two ball jokes, please.

See, I was feeling fairly on top of stuff because yesterday went well and so I could stop stressing about that and then today I made a to-do list and it wasn’t as scary as I thought but then I found out that I may have to do an on-air interview late next week which is when I’d planned on moving and somehow that’s toppling my whole house-of-cards-of-calm feeling I’d built out of this deck of 52 Bicycles, which is a kind of card, not actual bikes because there’s no way I could build a house out of actual bikes! I’d get covered in gearshift oil! I’d smell like tires!

I wish I had a desktop zen garden with a small waterfall and little bonsai tree. I need some kind of desktop de-stresser.

How am I feeling?

I’m feeling stressed about moving, that’s how, and it’s a totally free-floating kind of stress that’s really the worst kind because if I get distracted I feel like I’m forgetting something and then I realize that what I’m forgetting is to sit still and fret about moving. I should tie a dining set around my finger so I remember to worry.

Anyone care to recommend any movers?

Also, did anyone watch the Comedy Central Roast of Bob Saget? It was funny.

I guess that’s all for now, although I’m sure there’s more.