This is Tobey sitting in the chair with my dad watching TV. I’m thinking it must be All My Children in the background. And you can hear my mom talking to Tobey. And then one of the characters on TV says “Hi honey!” after my mom says “Hi Tobey.” It’s kind of confusing but the important thing to notice is his adorable feet. Also, his manly hair bow.
Author Archive | Alison Rosen
Hot Seat with Emily Mortimer
P.S. But the thing is that I really hadn’t heard the phrase “chaps my ass.” I’ve heard chaps my hide, but not chaps my ass. Please do weigh in. Have you heard it?
I get hate mail!
Or at least, un-fan mail (hope this doesn’t make me quit TONY!)
TONY, I love you, but I can’t keep quiet any longer: Please, please stop using Alison Rosen to conduct interviews for the Hot Seat. She is an immature, self-serving interviewer who brings out the worst in her subjects. I love Hot Seat and turn to it right away, but I dread seeing her name attached. TONY is already fun and edgy; Rosen’s adolescent, baiting interviewing skills drag the calibre of TONY down to that of a vapid gossip mag. For the sake of TONY– and its formidable interview subjects– please don’t let her near the Hot Seat.
Thanks!
E. Lowe, NYC
a shirtless teenager named "Chico" just gave me his phone number
Because I went upstairs wearing sweatpants, socks and a nightgown with a coat thrown hastily over the ensemble to have a word or two with my incredibly loud upstairs neighbor whose mom is away, hence the parties which I’m fairly sure involve drugs and which are quite loud and are driving me nuts. I’m sure of the drugs because the last time I went up there to see if they could possibly not yell at 4 in the morning, the girl who lives there, who’s apparently now consorting with “Chico” said she was just “about to blaze” and wanted to know if I wanted to join. I said no, I just wanted to sleep. Another time she showed up at my door at 10am wanting to know if she could climb through my window because she’d locked herself out of her apartment and she knew of some way to shimmy up the fire escape and into her own bedroom. Cleary she’d done it before when I wasn’t unfortunate enough to live here, back in the days when I lived in an apartment with a dishwasher and doorman and central air and heat and life was good. Have I mentioned I hate this little apartment urchin? I think she’s lived here forever, and at some point tragedy befell the family, and so people put up with her even though it’s well known she’s loud and horrible to live under. Plus: the window shimmying.
So tonight at first inklings of ruckus I shot up there and rang the doorbell. Shirtless be-necklaced “Chico” answered the door, in mid-sizzle (Chico cooks omelettes apparently) and seemed to know before I even opened my mouth what I was coming up about, probably from the look of “I’m going to kill you, I am way too old for this bullshit” on my face. Naturally I softened though, because he looked kind of frightened. We shook hands. I asked if there was a number I could call when they’re too loud so I don’t have to bang on the ceiling with a broom like the unpleasant old lady I’m becoming. He gave me his number. He admitted that he definitely heard the broom racket last night, which begs the question why they didn’t shut the hell up, but whatever. Perhaps he thought I was offering collaborative percussion. Basically I wanted his phone number so I don’t have to call the cops, which I will so totally do, and I wish I’d mentioned that. Apartment urchin was in the shower. I would have preferred her number, but at least now if I want to buy drugs, I’m pretty sure Chico can hook me up (Note: I don’t want to buy drugs. I want to go to sleep.)
The reading, the dream, the concourse, the chair
I went to Wendy‘s book reading last night but sadly got there after she’d already read because that’s the kind of friend I am. It’s the job, I tell you, I had to work late! I ran into another college friend who’s just given notice to go freelance. “So you can watch TV, sleep and get a puppy?” I asked. He said YES in a way that is more affirmative than just a simple YES would imply. More like YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “It’s the freelance dream,” I said, but up to that point I didn’t quite realize how much the dog is part of everyone’s freelance dream. And no, I’m not living that dream, but that’s okay too because I have a jade plant named Fred and am working on a chest infection. Not really! Mom and Dad, if you’re reading this, I feel a little hoarse and my throat hurts but chest infection really is going too far.
Today I discovered the labrynthian shopping concourse beneath the building I’m now working in which connects to the subway! I thought this would be a way to avoid the elements but it’s pretty cold down there. Still, if it had been snowing I would have avoided the snow—except I left after the subway entrance closed. But I went to the underground Duane Reade earlier in the day and enjoyed the frigid covered access. On my way out of the building I stopped by the Red Eye green room, making my evening rounds, to say hello to my favorite makeup and hair people and anyone else I might know in there. I think I actually walked in and said “hi, I came to brighten your evening with the joy that is my presence.” Then I complained for about 15 minutes and left. Not really. 12 minutes. Thursday I’ll be in the hot girl chair I think, which is good except it means I can’t wear my usual waist-down attire of hotpants and thigh high boots, which is what I’m always wearing in the newsroom when you just see me from chest up. Dang!
If you have to spill something
on your wood floors, I don’t recommend cough syrup. I recommend diet soda, preferably a clear diet soda like diet 7-up or diet sierra mist or sprite zero. Fresca too, if you’re in a pinch and simply must spill something.
Look whose tumblr has comment capabilities now…
Wendy and my very important chat blog does! Also, if you are in the New York area on Monday make sure to go to Wendy’s book reading! I’ll be there too and maybe we’ll do some liveblogging (by that I just mean talking to each other. Get it? That would be our blog live. Get it now? Do you? Oh shut it.)
It's like
I don’t even know what color my parachute is anymore!
But anyway I’ve been peering around all three walls of my new cubicle (or, if you’re pressed for time you can refer to it as my newbicle) and thinking that it’s totally bare. I even have lots of drawers which are also bare except in one I have a tape recorder, in case I need to blackmail people, and in another I have a matching tank top and sweater set, in case I need to go to a debutante function. Okay fine, the tape recorder is for interviews and the change of clothes is in case I get called for a sudden TV thing and I’m wearing a hoodie or something. So but the newbicle is very free of personal detail, save for the coffee smell I accidentally imparted to the papers sitting on the desk when I spilled some vanilla flavored coffee yesterday. The whole thing got me thinking about things I won’t be decorating the area with, hence:
Things I Won’t Be Decorating My Cubicle With:
1. Guns or any sort of gun rack
2. Gum or any sort of gum rack
3. A clock which counts down the hours until the next Burning Man
4. A Grandfather clock
5. My Grandfather (R.I.P.)
6. Sports team pennants
7. The box I think outside of
8. Okay so it’s a tampon box
9. Kettle drums
Hot Seat with Rob Thomas
You guys are awesome
You are! Okay, here is what I’m looking for now: quotes with the word Dave in them spoken by TV show characters, like if it’s a clip from Baywatch or Law and Order or anything cheesy or recognizable. The intention, ultimately, would be to use the snippets of dialogue and take them out of context to make them seem funny. So, send anything if it occurs to you. Thank you everyone!