Archive for the ‘parents being all parenty’ Category
Cute conversation I just overheard between a mom and daughter
Mom: Honey, I told you I was proud of you five times
Daughter (probably age 7 or so): I was JUST JOKING
Mom: Why are you joking?
Daughter (exasperated): I don’t KNOW! I JUST LIKE JOKES!
Mom: Is it because I didn’t give you enough accolades?
Daughter: You are ACCOLADE-ANNOYING!
One more photo, I’m neurotic, my dad on Twitter, George Clooney
photo by Eric Fischer
Okay so there’s one more photo. Actually there are a lot more, like a zillion more, but there’s one more (above) that I should probably include with the others I posted last night however I have this weird hangup about the right side of my face—I think the left side is more attractive. Unfortunately I didn’t quite realize how strongly I felt about this, in fact I thought maybe it was something I could get over, but now I realize it’s not a fleeting neurosis, it’s a permanent one. This must be how Phantom of the Opera felt!
Perhaps you are thinking, “But many of these photos are taken from the right side,” and yes, this is true, however what I don’t like seeing from that angle is on display more so in the above photo than the others, and yet I also recognize it’s a good photo. Sort of like if you have a shirt which is orange and it’s a perfectly good shirt and you just happen not to like orange.
Sometimes I feel like the world is full of fun house mirrors because the truth is I don’t really know what I look like. My own sense of my looks is very wiggly, and yes I realize wiggly is not exactly the word I’m going for. The first time I ever saw myself on TV I was enormously relieved because I really liked the way I looked—as in I felt I looked a million times more normal than I feared I might—because I think I had this hidden fear that I looked freakish. I realize these feelings aren’t quite in accordance with reality, but they’re stronger and deeper than the visual cues which, like I’m saying, are wiggly. And I’ve always said that if I hadn’t like how I looked on TV that first time I probably wouldn’t have wanted to continue doing it. The handful of times I’ve been unhappy with TV appearances are so unpleasant that if that was the norm–if going on TV was a hardship or something I had to really psych myself up for—like having surgery or going to Kinko’s, say—I’d never put myself through it. Instead it’s validating, which I realize suggests some deep schism or emptiness inside me which is setting me up for never feeling contented later in life, but I’d argue that everyone who puts him or herself in the public eye to a degree is dealing with some combination of these feelings deep inside.
I should add though that I don’t think about this stuff all the time—when I do my Ustream show I often do it without makeup and I trust that I’ll look fine and how I look isn’t really the point anyway. It’s more like all the above feelings are in me somewhere and periodically they flare up.
Also, thank you for all your comments last night! Something weird is happening with the blog where when you click on the permalinks for the photos posts (as opposed to viewing them from the alisonrosen.com/blog URL) all the photos aren’t showing up so I just want to make sure when you indicated which ones you liked you were seeing all of them. There should have been 11 photos in all (6 in the red sweater and 5 in the black shirt).
Let me know if this changes anything!
And yes I realize there is a world outside of me and my face however I’ve spent some time in it and frankly: not that impressed.
Oh and in other news, I’m going to get my dad on Twitter! Should he be JohnRosen, PapaRosen, AlisonsDad or something else?
Oh and also also, I watched Up In The Air last night. I liked it! And then I was thinking that for most people it’s probably this weird bit of trivia that George Clooney was in Facts of Life however for me, since I’m freakishly well acquainted with FOL, when I see him onscreen I just think, “Well, good for George The Handyman!”
Photos: CA, NYC, Hannity
There are loads of photos that have been sitting on my phone or computer that I’ve been meaning to put on this blog and I think the time is now.
Here’s my mom and Tobey from when I was in California for Thanksgiving. Isn’t he cute? There is only one answer.
Here’s the beach. Isn’t it beachy? There is only one answer. Read the rest of this entry »
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!
My mom’s mom
This is where I get my blond hair and blue eyes
This is my mom’s mom. She died when I was six. Wasn’t she pretty? Last night my mom sent my sister and me some old family photos and letters which she’d just received. It’s pretty sobering stuff. My grandmother made it to America from Vienna right as the war broke out but her brother and parents weren’t so lucky. Her attempts to bring her brother over here and the eventual discovery that her family had been killed—just as she’d raised enough money to secure her brother’s transport—is all detailed in there. Perhaps I’ll share some of it here. I haven’t figure it out yet. What’s a little atrocity in between fart jokes? Exactly.
Dads are the next hot trend
You know what’s a hot trend right now? Dads. I am basing this on two things: 1) everyone LOVES the episodes of The Daily Alison featuring my dad. 2) some guy on twitter is totally copying me and writing down crazy shit his dad says and tweeting it under the name @shitmydadsays and everyone’s talking about it and he has a zillion followers.
Ok so perhaps he’s not copying me, but I mean, he’s not NOT copying me.
So when all the other people start writing about how dads are the next hot thing and dads are a meme and all that, please remember that you read it here first. I INVENTED dads, you guys. Before I came along it was all single parent households and moms and I was like, “Hey, I have an idea, lets get some dads all up in here,” and then fast forward to now where they are so popular they even have their own holiday. Plus, you can put many words in front the words dad and father to add shades of meaning which shows that the mere notion of male parents is infiltrating culture. Some examples?
Absentee
Deadbeat
Rad
Ducklike
Drunk
Abusive
Negligent
Funky
But wait you guys, you can also add words AFTER the words father and dad. I’m telling you, there’s no stopping dads. They are here to stay! Check it out. Apply the following words and phrases after dad or father:
of the year
of the bride
knows best
doesn’t live here anymore
left, but it’s not your fault
moved out, but it is your fault
drinks a lot
is drunk again
is so silly!
is taking a nap. shhhh.
I’m not sure if I can hear you
My parents have begun speaking in a volume that I’d put somewhere between a prairie dog burp and a mouse fart. Which is to say, I can’t hear them. The exception to this is in the morning when my mom is having an argument with Tobey. “Tobey, NO!” she’ll scream, the windows rattling. “Tobey, I said NO!” she’ll thunder. Then Tobey will bark a tiny bit and then I’ll stumble into the room groggy and confused and she’ll apologize if Tobey woke me up. Other than this one time of day it’s all hushed tones. At first I thought it was me and that somehow my hearing had been compromised on the flight. “Something wrong with your ears?” my mom would say as I cupped the sides of my head. “No thanks, I don’t like beer,” I’d answer. I was upset about going deaf but getting drunk wasn’t going to solve anything.
And so it went for a few days: my parents carrying on in a way audible only to dolphins, me wondering if I should get a manicure before learning sign language, until I stepped out of the house and was commended on my incredible hearing.
Huh?
You see, all of my Costa Mesa friends used to play in bands and so their hearing is fairly terrible. “That alarm is going to drive me crazy,” I announced a couple days ago. “What alarm?” asked a friend in all seriousness. “Are you serious?” I asked, because I hadn’t read the previous sentence. He nodded and I shook my head in response. Then I clicked four times to indicate a boat on horizon. “There’s an alarm going off in the other room,” I explained. “It’s quiet but it’s been going off for about an hour.” He left to investigate. “Wow, that’s a frequency I no longer have,” he said upon returning. “That’s a shame… but you didn’t turn the alarm off,” I responded. Then I punched him. He never heard it coming.
And then I was at a party with two friends. “Wow, how can you hear that?” they asked when I said that one of the friend’s girlfriends was in the kitchen asking a question about guacamole. “I don’t know, I was convinced I was going deaf,” I said. Then they tried to claim that the reason I could hear and they couldn’t was because of angles and where I was sitting in proximity to the guacamole question versus where they were sitting. I’m not sure if they were right or not.
And… and now I can’t hear myself think because the paternal mouse farter is talking loudly on the phone. Do they just save up their volume for phone calls and yelling at Tobey? Or are they trying to gaslight me? I feel gaslit. Gaslighted? Gaslain?
