Alison Rosen Is Your New Best Friend

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.

Help me design my apartment

There’s no medicine cabinet or storage in the bathroom of my new apartment and since the tile (which goes all the way up the wall) was just redone, the owners aren’t so keen on drilling into it. This means I’m looking at one of those over the toilet freestanding shelf or cabinet things which I never like because I feel like they’re unattractive and not very sturdy seeming. So I ask you, blog readers, have you seen any that you like? What would you do if it was your bathroom?

By the way, this is part one in a series of me asking you for advice on how to set up my new apartment. I was born without the shelf-hanging gene. Also, I have no idea what I like anymore. Midcentury modern? Shabby chic? Actually, I know I like shabby chic, I think I’m just slightly embarrassed to admit it. When I moved into my apartment in California I happened to walk by this second hand furniture store and they had all this distressed white wooden furniture and it was super cheap and at the suggestion of my roommate and friend who was quite handy and had a large car, I snapped it up. I miss that furniture which is currently sitting in my parents house in California since it didn’t make sense to bring it to NYC. When I moved here I bought new furniture which is okay but I don’t love it. It’s neither white nor distressed. It’s Mexican rustic, sort of. It’s large and wooden and it just isn’t me. But, I mean, I’m only talking about a desk, two nightstands or endtables and a dresser. The rest of the furniture for my new place I’m going to have to buy. Here’s what I’m thinking I’ll need:

a kitchen table
chairs
a couch or easy chair or both, plus ottoman since I enjoy flopping into a chair, putting my feet up and staying like that for about six to eight hours (I’m very active)
a coffee table
a media stand or thing to put my TV and cable box on
a microwave (that’s not technically furniture but at this point I’m just making a list)
a puppy
an armoire or freestanding closet or something since this apartment doesn’t have any built in closets which I know kind of sucks but it DOES have a dishwasher and boy do I love dishwashers
two rugs for two rooms which are about 12 by 12 each (one is more like 12 by 14 actually, I think)

Now that I’ve made this list I feel both more stressed and more relaxed.

Apparently I’m not the dinner partying kind

So I was talking to my mom earlier on the phone about apartments and I was saying that one was so small it was more like a dorm room than an apartment and you wouldn’t want to have people over and she was asking if you wouldn’t be able to have anyone over, not even one person, and I was saying that you could have one person over but you’d never want to have a dinner party.

At that point she kind of scoffed and chortled, she scfortled, as if I am not the dinner party type. I am SO the dinner party type and the fact that she can’t see my inner casserole dish and the oil and vinegar cruets behind my eyes—well that kind of hurts. If you stab me with a dinner fork do I not bleed? If you shove little corn poker things onto the ends of ears of corn does it not make them cuter? (it does! and easier to eat! not that I’ve had corn in a million years, but that’s beside the point)

Anyway, just because I haven’t entertained in a zillion years and just because I wouldn’t know human companionship if it came up and bit me on my agoraphobic tushy does not mean that I don’t know how to throw a fun fest for a few fancy friends.

And to prove it, I thought I’d detail the itinerary:

First my guests would arrive and we’d chit chat while assembling my furniture. Then we’d eat pretzels. Then we’d play dress up. Then we’d skip rocks. Then we’d take a nap. Then we’d help me lift heavy things and change any bulbs that are out that I can’t reach. Then we’d play sardines. Then I’d sing a song for everyone. Then we’d make a toast. Then we’d have quiet time where you could read or nap or color or play with stickers. Then we’d go miniature golfing or roller skating, I haven’t decided. Then we’d probably go out to dinner. Then we’d watch a movie on my home movie theater. Then we’d take funny photos. Then the shuttle would come to take everyone home.

See? I know dinner parties!

A banana grows in Brooklyn