I’ll be on Fox & Friends tomorrow morning, Monday, at 8:15am Eastern (5:15am Pacific… right when you’re getting up to churn butter no doubt). I’ll be debating Andrew Breitbart. He is so going down.
Author Archive | Alison Rosen
Are you my new BFF?
A commenter made a comment about Chelsea Handler being potential BFF material for me, which of course would be awesome except she’s on the other coast, but then I started thinking that you know, it’s been a really long time since I’ve had a BFF! With my tendency to undermine, backstab, publicly humiliate, sleep around and steal cars, I have trouble being half of a girl-on-girl platonic friendship. But I could use a BFF! Ladies, do you think you have what it takes? Do you read my blog and think that we should be BFFs? Let me know. I think I still have some best friend necklaces around here somewhere.
Note: I don’t actually do any of that stuff although I did once steal a car.
At the gym; teleporting
I’m at the gym still. I’ve been on this bike for thirty six minutes and five, oh, wait eighteen seconds. That just goes to show you how slowly I’m typing. I’m pedaling faster than I’m typing but slower than in a cartoon where a character winds up his feet and then shoots forward. I guess that’s kinda obvious though. Were I pedaling that fast I’d probably go shooting through this mirror here and end up sitting on some man’s shoulder press, or in some other dimension. I’m not sure what kind of mirror I’m dealing with here: reflective or portal to another galaxy. The important thing is that if I went through it I’d leave a super hot and toned outline of my unbelievable body. Some kind of supermodel went crashing through this, they’d say. We’re looking for the lithe body of someone involved in a gym accident. All we know is that she had incredible form and her sweat smelled like ambrosia. Also, birds tended to perch on her shoulders while she was biking. Occasionally they’d help with her sewing. She favored gauzy fabrics. Sometimes she’d set her homemade pies to cool on the handlebars.
God, I know it’s kind of weird but I miss myself already! I just hope wherever I am they have wifi. And coffee. And showers, because I didn’t get a chance to take one before teleporting and my hair seems to have lost some of its usual bounce and sheen. I was planning on pumping up its volume later.
If you’re just now starting to read my blog, you’re probably concerned for my sanity. Fear not. I have a tinfoil hat which protects me. It’s a tinfoil fez actually. Like I’d be caught in some kind of tinfoil sombrero. Puhleeze!
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At the gym; sleepy
Well here I am at the gym. I can’t even say what I’m working on because I’m working on not falling asleep. I’ve never encountered so much difficulty getting out the door. My eyes are rejecting being open and my body is rejwecting being upright. It gives my face the scrunched up pained expression you’d see on a newborn baby with a hangover, except I’m not hungover. I’m so tired that if there was a coffin next to me that was open, empty and had a pillow in it and also didn’t smell, I would consider climbing in and taking a nap. That’s not a cry for help. Um, I don’t really know why I feel this way since I got a decent amount of sleep last night. The only other time I felt like this was when my sister and I went to france before she studied abroad in italy. We have pictures of me sleeping in a variety of locations. Just resting my eyes really. Well actually there are some of me all dressed up to go out, asleep. I remember her constant refrain: ‘don’t sleep on public tranportation.’ Anyway, then I got the flu or laryngitis or something but then I was okay and then she and her friend who we’d scooped up along the way also came down with it and they were more tired than they’d ever been in their lives and boy did I laugh long and hard at that point. Not that they heard me though, they were asleep. I did what was only fair, took photos of them dressed up to go out, napping. Anyway, that’s how tired I feel today and its not a mental sluggishness but a physical one. I wonder if I could sleep on this bike? I’m tempted to try. Not sleep, just rest my eyes. Let’s see. Here I go. Twenty five seconds passed. Ugh! Today is not not sucking so far.
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Wow, Joe, I don't know what to say
Except: thank you for making this video (posted on The Activity Pit)! I liked the shots of Pomona and Jet Blue and stuff. And Tobey! Is that a satellite shot of Orange County? My sense of direction is so bad that whatever angle/distance I’m seeing something from, I still have no idea what it is. UPDATE: Okay, so obviously that isn’t “Orange County.” Remember when I asked if it was Orange County? Totally was just making a far out joke because clearly that’s either my college or my high school. I think it’s my high school. I think I recognize my locker. Where am I?
Does my face hurt?
If you know me then you know I simply live for when people say their faces hurt so I can jump in with “it’s killing me!” In fact, that was the only upside to having my wisdom teeth out—the chance to be repeatedly zinged by my sister when I’d stupidly announce, through my vicodin haze, that my face hurt. (Even though I was the butt of the joke that time, I still appreciated it in the Platonic sense and respected the way my sister took advantage of my weakened state. I would have done the same.) Now my face hurts again for some reason and my dumb sister is on the way to Delaware and there’s no one to appreciate the way I keep accidentally setting myself up for the joke. I am so alone humorwise right now! If my face hurts and no one says it’s killing them, does it even really hurt at all?
Couple shots from last night
it's important to figure this out for yourself
Here’s a deep thought I had this morning which I thought you might also like to have:
If I were a man and not just a man but one who wore a toupee, would it be a good or bad one?
UPDATE: I think I have confused you guys with this question. I don’t mean it like if I were a man and my current hair was a toupee. That is crazy! I mean like this, and I realize at this point I’m somewhere between English and the weird language I speak to myself in my head which is understandable only by me, hence, oh well:
In a parallel universe, if I were not me, but instead a man, and one day I had to get a toupee, would I end up being the kind of person who sports a good one or bad one? Would I be that dude walking around with what appears to be an inverted scrub brush plopped on my head? Or would I be more of a Ted Danson type guy? That’s what I’m saying. I’m not talking at all about my real life hair which is lustrous and very much attached to my scalp.
And now I’m suggesting that you, also, think about what type of toupee-wearing older gentleman you would be.
Another clip from last night's Red Eye
Clip from last night's Red Eye
(note: Yes, Greg had something on his face. It related to a “now broadcasting in HD” joke at the beginning of the show. And note the way I did not say “top” of the show. I think it’s pretentious to use industry lingo when talking to the demo. You know? Roger that.)