Hot pumpkin on nuts action
Missed last Sunday’s show? Don’t cry. Here’s part 1, which is long, and part 2, which is short.
Tobey in the car
Post show chat with Elliot, the pie guy
On Sunday's ARIYNBF: pie making for dudes
What are you doing on Sunday, Dec 5? No, I’m sorry, that’s wrong.
Instead, you’ll be watching my show at 4:30pm because a man who has baked one pie in his entire life but is extremely proud of said confection will be coming on my show to demonstrate his baking prowess. He already asked me if swearing and drinking are allowed on the show if that’s any indication of the entertainment that lies ahead.
Here’s the problem I’m having though and maybe you guys can help me through this. On TV cooking segments there’s already a pie made ahead of time so that after they pop the pie in the oven they can magically pull out an already made pie. So he and I were going to get together ahead of time to make a pie so you guys won’t have to wait the 23 hours it takes for the fucker to bake. (45 minutes)
But then I was thinking if we’re going to do that we may as well turn on the camera for that and stream it, so we’re going to have to get together ahead of that to make a pie. See what I’m saying?
So I’m thinking since we’re all new best friends here, maybe we should just hang out during the 45 minutes it takes the pie to bake? Or should I go for the on-air magic of having the pie made ahead of time? The magic which I’ve already disclosed?
WHAT TO DO?
And while we’re talking, do send in your phone number for fan phone call if you haven’t already. Send it to fanphonecall AT alisonrosen DOT com and put “number” in the subject line.
Ok, see you all Sunday!
An open letter to my parents, with whom I am now living
Oh hey guys. I just saw you a few minutes ago in the family room.
First of all I wanted to thank you for allowing me to broadcast my show from your living room and/ or kitchen. I appreciate it and I will give you a couple points on the back end once I figure out what that means.
Recently something has come to my attention though, which I can remain silent about no longer. It’s that you hang two fly swatters on a hook attached to the inside of the pantry door where you keep the garbage.
Exhibit A: the pantry (no indication of the Jack-in-the-box of swatters concealed within)
This is where the fly swatters live, which is fine. I’m sure the insect world is very aware and frightened of you two vigilantes keeping their population in check. If bugs had terrorist threat levels our house would be code red and tiny swatter-sniffing fleas would be nosing up against the pantry doors. My problem is not with the swatters so much as their placement.
Due to the laws of physics (an object in motion tends to stay in motion and also centrifugal force), the mere act of opening the pantry door launches these swatters up and away from their hooks, their balletic arc impeded only by contact with an object: me. They are essentially daughter swatters.
Exhibit B: swatters
Not only that, as I am the one who often is asked to take out the trash which involves leaning down and pulling the bag out of the can, my face is at prime swatter level. Taking out the trash for me involves a delicious one-two punch of trash smell and then bug guts. It’s as if I never left New York.
I’m hoping we can move the swatters because if they attempt frottage with my body or face one more time, they’re going to accidentally end up in the trash.
Thank you.
Alison
On the next ARIYNBF
What are you doing Sunday? If it involves anything other than watching my show I don’t even want to know.
On Sunday’s show Bartender Josh, the man who accompanied me to the Playboy Mansion and who has perfect teeth will make a return appearance to teach us bar etiquette. Here’s how the conversation went down:
Me: want to do a segment where you teach us how to make drinks?
Bartender Josh: Can I teach you bar etiquette? Like how not to be annoying?
I’m hoping he means you as in the public as opposed to you as in me.
Also? Other amazing stuff.
Hope you all had a good Thanksgiving!
Tune in Sunday at 4pm! http://alisonrosenshow.com
Oh! And if you have questions for a bartender, leave them in the comments!
And submit your number for fan phone call!
Thanksgiving live blog
I’ve decided to live blog Thanksgiving which means I’m going to post a couple things and then forget about it.
Because I’ve only been slapped upside the head by inspiration right now, after a morning rich with happenings, I will have to recap for what led up to right now even though that goes against the whole point of a live blog. Also, who talks like that? Me apparently.
So I woke up early and watched the opening credits of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade at which point I realized that I wasn’t making an appearance this year. Again! Then some stuff happened and then my sister and I went to the store which required multiple cell phone calls to each other because we kept losing one another which is funny since the store isn’t that big. I think she was trying to ditch me.
Then we got home and played a rousing game of, “What would Tobey be saying if he could speak.”
And this is what’s happening now:
I’m reminded of this, the probing interview with my mom about turkey from Thanksgiving a few years ago. Now perhaps you’re clicking that link and thinking I only blogged for Time Out New York but actually I was an editor and writer there for many years and launched their blog in addition to working in the music section then the features section and then helming the Hot Seat section. I tell you this because sometimes I worry people think I’m some substance-less floozy who appears on TV and does fuck-all and the truth is that I’ve only become that recently. I used to be respectable. And also it used to be that if you google me 8 zillion things I’d written would pop up and now it’s just silly videos and stuff which take over the first few pages of the search results which is totally fine but I just want to sit here overcompensating and thinking about myself because that is what Thanksgiving is made for.
I’m spinning in place. Someone snap me out of this.
Also, how can I be grateful when I’m sitting here suffering a wedgie?
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Ok, now I’m wondering if I should be putting the new stuff at the top of this post or the bottom? It’s as if I never live blogged.
My mom walked in with a question about salad. I told her that I was busy blogging and to get in touch when the madness of the holiday season dies down.
Also I spent some time reading old Thanksgiving posts on my blog and really grappling with whether what I was reading happened in 2008 or 2009. Is it possible my blog has mixed up the dates? Basically 2008 and 2009 are different in ways too imperceptible for my brain to process. This can’t be good.
Wait, update: I was just reading the date wrong on my blog because I’m an idiot.
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Now my bride-to-be sister is making me look at pictures of dresses online. I watched an entire bridal fashion show. “I don’t have 13 minutes to watch a bridal fashion show,” I declared before spending 13 minutes watching a bridal fashion show. I also was force fed some images of various bridesmaid dresses. And then there was a very slow loading slideshow involving other bridal stuff but my mom interrupted to ask my sister for help locating the beets at which point I planned my escape. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back,” said my sister as I gnawed my leg off. Not because there was anything holding down my leg, I was just hungry.
I should add that I am very excited my sister is getting married and looking forward to it however there are few things I enjoy viewing over someone’s shoulder at a computer and pretty quickly I begin to feel held hostage. I could probably even tire of looking at pictures of ME on the computer over someone’s shoulder. It’s hard to believe.
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Whew. Things almost came to loggerheads regarding which can of cream of mushroom soup to use for the green bean casserole. Finally we compromised and used half of each can. Then I let my sister know in no uncertain terms that the way she cut the beans wasn’t pleasing her highness, which is me. This was the conversation:
Me: You have to cut the beans.
My sister: I did.
Me: [looking back and forth between the beans and my sister with a look of disgust/disappointment]
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Reading People magazine and you guys, get this: I’d completely forgotten Billy Baldwin and Chynna Phillips were together! This changes everything! (It changes nothing.)
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I just encountered a LOT of static cling. And apparently I’m on the Biography Channel right now. Not sure which Bio.
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Here’s a table shot showcasing the makeshift centerpiece—a squash given to me by Robin who was on the extended gal chat segment on my show recently,
Some clips from the final NYC ARIYNBF
This video is courtesy of Trappdog who played live on the Oct. 24 show. I was trying hard not to feel sad about the whole move and the last show but upon watching it I’m feeling some emotions. Gross!
If I'm not on time, this is why
Tobey, comments about comments, my show
I’m beginning to think I should just rename this blog “pictures of my parent’s dog and occasional funny lists and/or oversharey diary entries plus photos of me in the back of a car on the way home from TV appearances” however that’s already been taken. Plus, I hate to pander to search engine optimization boobs Obama.
A photo of Tobey which has nothing to do with this post
I’ve been overwhelmed by the really positive response to my Carolla appearance in the comments on his web site and on my web site and in emails and on twitter. I know that stuff shouldn’t really fill the empty spaces in me like it did, but I’d be lying if I said yesterday didn’t feel like an extended Xmas morning. Refreshing my computer and watching more and more positive comments come in was like sitting in front of a slot machine that kept pouring out winnings. And not those stupid paper vouchers but actual coins. Except I kind of hate coins so maybe this one is pouring out giant checks. And ducklings.
Given the way yesterday felt it makes me realize even more why a bunch of negative comments on the internet can be so devastating even though everyone on the receiving end of it tells themselves it shouldn’t matter which then creates this extra shame/pain because you feel stupid for letting it get to you. (For extended viewing on the messed up relationship between performers and approval watch Jamie Kennedy’s Heckler and Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work.)
Not that I give a flying fuck what anyone thinks or anything because I totally don’t, man.
But one of the things you hear is is that you can’t take the good comments to heart because then that means you also have to believe the bad ones. Obviously in my case that’s totally wrong because the good ones are astute and spot on and brilliant and the bad ones are people who are mean and icky and mentally deficient.
Sometimes he runs and barks in his sleep, which is adorable
Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is yesterday a man named Fart wrote, “Allison was perfect match for the ACE man” and as much as I believe in myself, it’s still great to get Fart’s perspective.
Also I’ll most likely be doing my show on Sunday. I want to line up a musician who’s amazing who plays piano however the room where the piano is has been overtaken with my New York stuff and there are now subway tracks running through the piano and the bench has been replaced with a giant bagel. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen though.
Also, I feel like I shouldn’t really be commenting on the comments, that somehow that’s not done, but whatever.
Also I should say that I think the danger is in believing them to the extent that you actually tailor your performances/art/what have you to attempt to provoke a certain reaction and that’s probably where the danger lies because a whole bunch of people can like an asshole while at the same time it’s possible for something to be brilliant and ahead of it’s time and not well received but still full of merit.
In sum: I’m an asshole who’s ahead of my time.