Malone over at The Activity Pit uploaded this video. He edited it down to showcase me because I’m lovely. Perhaps I will upload the full extended segment at some point. Or perhaps I won’t. I’m unpredictable like that:
Author Archive | Alison Rosen
At the gym; friends and otters
Well it finally happened. I made some gym buddies. Well, not really buddies yet, but I shared a moment with Thelma and Sam. Note: I don't actually know their names but they seem like a Thelma and Sam. Anyway, I was laying or lying on some ab crunch machine thing and I heard Sam say that working out is painful. Then Thelma, stretching on the floor, said it was boring! They were talking amongst themselves and I got up and as I was walking away I said 'I think it's boring AND painful!' They both laughed and nodded and invited me to go yachting with them.. I had to decline as I get seasick and I already have plans to go heliboarding this afternoon.
The thing is that I don't really find it painful and boring. I may change my mind tomorrow when those damn tens get me, but still, I like to meet people on their level. Don't worry about it, I'll come to where you are, I often say to people who are stuck in trees or drowning. I like to think they appreciate my willingness to be accomodating. Occasionally I tire of always being so selfless and altruistic and giving and generous and kindhearted and when I do, it's best to avoid me because I engage in petty theft and dabble in grand larceny, but I think it's justified because my daughter needs the medicine and that's why I had to also turn to prostitution and black out one of my teeth and begin speaking as well as singing in a French accent. Who am I? Shall I condemn myself to slavery? This is my opera house! Don't look at me! Turn your face away! Acunamatada! Means no worries? My knowledge of the Disney songbook is strikingly lacking although I enjoy myriad songs from The Rescuers and also Lady and the Tramp. Dumbo, too, but that shit makes me cry.
For my birthday I received the collector's dvd of emmett otter's jugband christmas, quit laughing at me, and it was excellent. I'd forgotten how good the songs were. And there was a bloopers reel which was hilarious and a whole behind the scenes documentary. I recommend it highly to myself. (Despite the fact that I'm kind of paid to be a critic, I don't feel comfortable imposing my otterphilia on you. Not yet at least.)
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Telenovelas
Norma is having trouble sleeping. Some people are in love. For how long? Norma knows but can't believe it. Visine advanced relied eye drops help refresh, soothe and something else your eyes. This is what I gleaned from watching telemundo for the past seventeen minutes. Que lastima!
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new posts up on Alison and Wendy
Care to know what Wendy and I think about The Hills, giant bananas, Gossip Girl, lions and more? I think you do!
I feel like I'm in a dream
because there is a thread over on The Activity Pit called “Alison Rosen’s hair” and it’s not entirely flattering—what’s up with the way it poofs out unnaturally—did I overdo it with the hairspray? Is it dry?—and I can’t quite explain why this intense follicular scrutiny makes me feel like I’m in a dream but it does. I think because I’ve joked so much about being obsessed with my hair that to be confronted with the way others are splitting hairs over it (get it? nothing to get here, move along) is strangely gratifying/disturbing.
But see, I feel I shouldn’t comment in the thread itself, yet if I don’t comment I’ll simply die! So here goes:
Yes, I wear a wig and extensions. In fact, under my long black hair is a blond pageboy. Under that is a mousy brown choirboy. My head is like a series of Russian nesting dolls.
The poofing you’re noticing is a result of teasing. Before I go on air the hairstylist shouts taunts at my head. “Is that your hair or did your neck throw up?” is my favorite.
Teasing or back-combing is how “anchor hair” is achieved. Not that I sit in the chair and request anchor hair, however I’ve noticed that I definitely prefer my hair with some poof in it. Otherwise it’s too flat, which is just no good on TV. In real life though, it’s pretty flat.
I don’t dye my hair. It’s naturally black. Truthfully. Don’t make me rip out a hair and show you the root because I so will. As proof I submit my mom and my sister, both of whom also have black hair.
I do straighten my hair though.
I guess that’s really all I have to say at this time.
Words
Note: please excuse my spelling errors. There's only one dictionary at the gym and someone's on it.
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At the gym; reality tv
I’m at the gym not taking an abdominal class because yesterday I decided to get on some machine and do a few crunches and then the gym asked me to stop because I was doing it so well the other gym patrons were getting discouraged. “Save it!” I said, holding up a sculpted arm. “Story of my life.” It actually is, and the first line is, “Call me sculpted arm.” Catchy, right? It’s been ripped off left and right, which is also the story of my life. That one starts, “It was the best of arms, it was the worst of arms.” Around that time Hemingway came out with Farewell to Arms, which I took as a personal affront, so I went into witness protection. Ernie was always doing stuff like that, and I realize that now, but at the time I was really trying to be safe. Anyway, that’s why I’m not in that class, but damn you, that’s not what I was planning on talking about today! You’re just too distracting, you know that? When I look into your eyes I see myself. Very tiny in your pupils. There I am! Waving! Wait hold still I think I have something in my eye. Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable? I can almost make it out.
So I’ve put up with a lot of shark jumping from Keeping Up With The Kardashians and I’ve loved them all the same, refusing to see the obvious contrivances, because such is my love. But last night they just pushed me too far with the completely impossible to believe calendar mix up. For the uninitiated, which is probably all of you, I will briefly recap:
For her boyfriend’s bday, Kim Kardahsian decides to make a sexy calendar exclusively for him and she even gets her butt sucked by a vacuum in advance so her cellulite will be lint free. Then she has this photo shoot and her boyfriend actually shows up and is made slightly uncomfortable by the sexy factor but Kim tells us when he realizes it’s for his eyes only it’ll be okay, nevermind the fact that she posed in Playboy and there was a sex tape. So the big thing is that he can’t know it’s a surprise for him—he has to think it’s a magazine photo shoot. So then Kim is somewhere off screen and a package arrives at smooch, the children’s clothing store that the girls run. Because you’d obviously send your racy photos to a children’s clothing store. So then Kim’s mom Kris ‘where’s my nose’ Jenner, wife of Bruce ‘I don’t know, but I can’t find mine either’ Jenner opens the package addressed to Kim because she’s her manager. Might I say that is a really poor system? Upon seeing the racy calender, Kris thinks that obviously this is some project of Kim’s that she forgot about and she doesn’t want Kim to think she dropped the ball as a manager so she gets the thing published and puts it in four stores in Calabasas because she is a publishing magnate and that’s how it works. Mind you, all this happens in the time it takes freakishly small Kourtenay and or-is- she-freakishly-large Khloe to have a few drinks and realize Bruce is inspirational. They had some drinks at a sports museum in orange county and I have no idea where this place is, but that’s a side note.
So then Kim freaks out when she realizes her calendar is at the Stop & Go or wherever it is and also at the newstand and she has to buy up all the copies paying full price each and the guy selling doesn’t even seem to realize that the girl buying up all the calendars being followed by cameras is the same girl in the calendar. That is some good acting. Everyone else’s though was terrible.
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This just in: I'll be on Hannity & Colmes tonight
9:30pm Eastern time tonight on FNC!
At the gym; menopause
Greeting my little fuzzy dice. I'm here at the gym thinking that I've been able to bear children for twenty years now and I would have made a damn good mother at thirteen so just save it if that's what you were thinking. I was very mature for my age. I'd already read almost all the Sweet Valley High books and some of the Sweet Valley University ones. I couldn't even get into the Sweet Valley junior high ones, that's how mature I was. So but if you think about it, I could already be a grandmother. And thanks a lot for calling me today, kids. I swear, you give them life and what's your thanks? A macaroni wreath and a bookmark that says number one grandma? Actually, I'm so young at heart I told the girls that I don't feel like a grandmother yet so just call me Bertie. I feel like a Bertie.
Anyway, on this, my birthday, I've been thinking that it may be time to reinvent myself. I mean, not the actual me, I'm perfect as is, but the way I am referred to on tv because no matter what they label me as it just doesn't seem right. I'm a writer for magazines but I think that suggests something slightly other than what I provide on tv. Comedian is really closest to what I do on red eye, but I don't perform standup. Hrm. Anyway, which do you think sounds best (but I'm thinking for other shows, not red eye where I don't think it matters at this point since everyone knows me)
Writer and pop culture expert
Writer and pop culture and political analyst who is also funny
Tiny dancer
Smooth criminal
Blogger and tv commentator who also is a journalist
Of course I'm joking about most of these sadly. Am I giving up on this blog post? I am. I am sweaty and have no follow through. Maybe it's menopause. Oh goody!
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a thought I had about raccoons
If you were a raccoon who also happened to be a raconteur, it would be tough to come up with anything pithy to call yourself. Perhaps this is why raccoons make such boring company.