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Archive | corona del mar

Exciting news; static cling; clarification

Teresa Strasser, Adam Carolla, me

So much to tell. First of all, yes, I am the new news girl on the Adam Carolla Show. I got the word over the weekend but it was a secret which is why I didn’t do my own show on Sunday. I debated and while I knew I would be able to pretend not yet to know I just didn’t delight in the idea of having to lie to my viewers who would be asking if I knew yet, and so I did the next best thing: went sweater shopping.

How’d it go? Fuckloads of static cling is how it went. And then I had that moment of pulling off a sweater and hearing the crackle and looking in the mirror and seeing my hair look like this

and knowing I was in for a painful shock the next time I touched anything metal.

But back to more pressing matters. I’d like to just take this moment to clarify two things no one has really landed upon yet. They both involve today’s podcast.

The moment where we’re talking about my old band and Adam asks the name and I say The Angoras and he says “There’s a sheep and a rabbit?”and then I say, as if I’m some kind of moron, “On my amp?” What I was referring to was our singer’s practice of draping our amps and hardware with plastic animal figurines or stuffed animals when we played live. During the podcast recording we were staring at a photo of me playing live in the band which the producers dug up and there was a pony on my amp, hence my confusion.

And another note about that photo. It was taken in 98 or 99 and I was carrying around a good 30 more pounds, apparently in my legs. Not that it’s important that I issue this disclaimer but I’d just like to start our relationship (the one where I overexplain stuff) on the right shallow foot.

And also, I’m not loving the way my dress looks in the photo of me, Teresa and Adam. Ok done!

Wait, one more thing: You should read Teresa and Adam’s books. I read both and loved them.

Oh wait, another thing I want to make clear. During the audition process I referred to myself as a “polyglot” when discussing my practice of counting to twenty in French and Spanish while I’m at the gym on the treadmill. I was joking! I was not actually bragging about my ability to count to twenty in foreign languages as much as making fun of the idea that that would be something to tout. Did that make sense? I didn’t think so.

Ok, see you guys every day!

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Trash, Carrot Shavings and The Salem Fart Trial

Remember when  I told you I’d written some stories about feeling like a misfit growing up? Here’s another one. You’re welcome.

The high school where I served my tour of duty had an open campus policy for upper school. This meant if you were in eleventh or twelfth grade you could do as you pleased during lunch but if you were in ninth or tenth grade you were stuck on campus like a prisoner. It wasn’t fair! I needed to breathe! I needed to hop in my car and drive 20 feet away and then drive back about 20 minutes later, like a civilized adult! Why was the school depriving me of my freedom? Most sophomores didn’t pay heed to the Draconian rules. As there was no one to prevent them from driving off campus, they just did so as if it was their right and no one was the wiser. Back they’d come, toting purloined booty from nearby far-off lands—a ketchup blob on the upper lip that glistened like no cafeteria ketchup I’d ever known. A rich burp redolent with the scent of Dr. Pepper when everyone knew the only prune-flavored beverage the high school threw its government money behind was watery Mr. Pibb. The most brazen (more…)

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An update of sorts

Marvin is doing well. In fact we just got back from going to a place where people with parakeets receive medicine and I wish I could say specifically what was going on however recently this conversation happened:

Me: Are you still wanting to keep this secret?

Marvin: Yep

Me: Can I at least say what the situation is since I’m not identifying you?

Marvin: I’d prefer if you didn’t.

So, onward with the parakeets and the Who Is Marvin and whatnot. I was pretty nervous about going to this particular aviary, shall we say (side note: that may not be the best metaphor) because for some reason it just freaked me out even though I’d heard that the mood in these places is light but when you really stop and think about it the spectre of death is right around the corner (past the inspirational posters and shelves of little porcelain angels), but then when you really stop and think about it, the spectre of death is always right around the corner. But at aviaries, when you go out to use the bathroom in the hall you hear some barfing/retching sounds, which is weird because so far Marvin hasn’t felt barfy/retchy.

But anyway, aside from the fact that someone was crying in there which then triggered my feeling like I wanted to cry response, it wasn’t bad at all and the chairs were comfy and I was able to avert my gaze when needles were being inserted into things (pin cushions, voodoo dolls, haystacks) and the magazines were gossipy and I marvel at the way some of the people with parakeets keep their spirits high. Speaking of keeping your spirits high, Marvin and another family member and I (spine-tingling side note: would it be nuts if it turned out that Marvin was ME? That would be an exciting twist, speaking strictly of narrative. But Marvin isn’t me.) listened to this guided visualization meditation CD because Marvin and this family member had gone to a meditation class and I hate that I’m so immature however I had a tough time not laughing during the CD because the woman leading it had a speech impediment. I’m not making this up. Her voice was still relaxing though, in an unfortunately comical way, and when she told us to relax and let it all out and someone farted (yet again, not me!) I tried to keep a straight face but I just couldn’t instead emitting the kind of laugh that’s produced from trying really hard not to laugh. A snortle-splosion.

In other news, I was just invited to play on a softball team. Like right this very second. My response? “Are you looking for someone who’s actually good at sports?” I just want to make sure these people are as serious about it as I am because if I have to carry the team again I’ll be pissed.

What team? What do you mean by again? (That’s you saying that.)

I’m referring to the time I led the 1968 Olympic downhill skiing team to victory before I tore all my rotator cuffs and had to have them tailored. It was a nightmare because the tailor didn’t know what he was doing. “Are you not trained in surgery and buttons?” I demanded. “You’re dangling by a thread there,” Armando yelled back, jabbing at the air with his little chalk marker thing which may or may not actually be soap. I forget what happened next but I was hauled off by security even though I was an injured —and now irate—Olympic medalist in an ill-fitting shirt.

In other news, James Fletcher will be appearing on my show soon. I mentioned him on the last show and I can’t get his album out of my mind! (Track number 4 “Don’t Say a Word” is my current favorite.)

Also, I have pictures of the food I ate in first class (did I mention I flew first class on my way out here? I did? A million times? Never mind then) because I was planning on interviewing myself about it, however I haven’t gotten around to it probably because I insist that I fax myself a request and I have neither a fax machine nor the time to deal with some spoiled starlet’s ridiculous demands.

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Informal formal visits and my own personal war effort

Tomorrow I’m doing a brand new episode of Alison Rosen Is  Your New Best Friend even though I was tempted not to do one, but I can’t deprive you of me. It’s just not fair. Because it’s so late in the day I’m not sending out Facebook invites yet again because they won’t get there in time. Instead I’ll be knocking on each of your doors individually later on today and I’ll be expecting you to invite me in for a light snack. Nothing fancy, just make sure it’s something you would serve royalty. There’s a chance I may need to use your bathroom so please see to it that you’ve cleaned it top to bottom and inside and out and put out the finest hand-milled French soap. And when I say hand-milled I expect you to mill it yourself. If you don’t know how, this is no time to learn. Just call your local neighborhood miller and find out if they do soap, in addition to whatever millers do. Anyone? I know I read the Miller’s Tale in college in my Chaucer class but that information has long ago been replaced with other stuff. What kind of stuff? Let’s discuss that over caviar when I drop in for an informal formal visit.

In other news, it’s hot but not TOO hot in New York so you can breathe a sigh of relief if you were wondering how I was coping. Don’t get me wrong, I prefer cold weather, but it’s not so hot that I want to die.

Actually, come to think of it, sleeping in this weather is kind of difficult, which is why I look so sleepy and also AM so sleepy.

How sleepy am I? Very. You would definitely not want me driving your heavy machinery unless it happened to be air conditioned and then we could talk.

Anyway, I have a lot of things to say but I can’t say them because of the Marvin gag order but just you wait, internet, because a flood of stuff is all bottled up in here.

That sounded kind of menacing, didn’t it? I didn’t mean it to.

In fact right now I feel kind of estranged from words, which are my favorite things in the world right up there with ducklings and puppies, and it’s a fairly shitty feeling and it’s contributing to this amorphous directionless blob feeling I’m having.

I have half a mind to just delete this entire post but I have another half a mind to not and then another half a mind which is just thinking about TV shows. It’s a wonder I can fit into hats.

In addition to being estranged from words apparently I’m also estranged from jokes.

Imagine if you are in a war suddenly and it suddenly gives your life shape and meaning, especially if maybe before the war you were struggling a bit in your chosen profession and wondering if it wasn’t time to shake things up but not knowing exactly how. So just when you were considering a massive shakeup along comes a crisis which happens to be a war and so you ship off and you’re dealing with war stuff every single day from the moment you wake up to the moment you sleep, which is not enough by the way, and you know this war is going to change your life but a little bit you’re aware that there’s maybe something opportunistic in the way you’re throwing yourself into your new war duties because  you needed something to throw yourself into. At the same time it’s a blessing you were able to ship off at that moment, because the war effort wouldn’t have been the same without you. So then let’s say that particular battle is dying down and you’re debating whether to stay on for the rest of the war, or to return home, where things are less dramatic and poignant and ratcheted up. But see, if you return home the war will still be waged across the country and you feel wrong not being there. But you’re also aware there’s a very good chance you’ll join the war and put the rest of your life on hold which would be a mistake even if it’s easy.

Not that any of this is easy.

In the midst of writing the above I lost track of all the metaphors. I guess what I’m trying to say is hard shit is happening across the country and I feel weird being here and I feel weird being there. I just feel weird. And also sleepy.

The end.

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A list because you love lists

So I’m back in New York after six intense weeks of Marvin care and I have so many things to say it’s making it hard for me to say anything. This is a hazard when you’re a blogger who is known for sharing the details of your life. Also when you’re known for being achingly beautiful. I’m telling you, spending nights in the hospital did my complexion no favors. And that delicious hospital cafeteria food went straight to my hips. I think I should make a list of things I need to tell you:

1) I trust you’re all coming to see me Thursday in News Distillery at the 92Y. Here’s a story about Faith Salie that mentions it if you want more info which you probably do because you’re so like that.

2) I’m really proud of the ARIYNBF shows I put on in CA and I’m glad I did that even though at times it was hard.

3) Perhaps you’re reading this and you’re new to me and you’re wondering what I’m talking about.

4) Soon I will be able to speak about it, I think, but for now I have to be all vague and elliptical but here’s what you can know: one of my family members whom I’ve named “Marvin” was just diagnosed with something no one wants and so I’ve been helping out.

5) Not crabs, though no one wants them.

6) Or Jordan almonds.

7) Before the Mad Men premiere I kept wanting to write a list of “Mad Men inspired drinking games by someone who doesn’t watch Mad Men and doesn’t understand drinking games.” That person isn’t me, of course, since I watch Mad Men and love to drink till I puke.

8) It would be a persona. A device. A trope, if you will.

9) You won’t.

10) By the way, I don’t actually love to drink till I puke. In fact I seldom drink these days which is all part of the way I don’t have fun and am letting life pass me by.

11) woe = me

12) I’m actually tired of the Goldenrod Footbridge. Can you believe it?

13) In the past going home to CA was taking a break however a few days before I returned to New York it was suggested to me that I should return if for no other reason than I clearly needed a break and needed to get strong again before coming back to CA. This idea that New York is now the place I go when I need a break is doing all sorts of funky things in my head.

14) Specifically it’s doing the electric slide.

15) “A Marvin being sick marks the true end of childhood,” said a therapist.

16) Or maybe she said, “A Marvin being sick truly marks the end of childhood.”

17) Well, you get the point.

17.5) Not MY therapist! What use would I have for therapy? My brain is perfection and my emotions are a thing of beauty and my thoughts conform to the Platonic ideal of thoughts and my feelings are so appropriate you only WISH you had my feelings.

18) It’s hot in New York. I kind of hate that.

19) True Blood is now my favorite distraction and I’m sad I’m all caught up.

20) Also? I’ve been cheating on Splenda with Truvia. Just a little though.

21) I miss Tobey.

22) Congrats to Natali Del Conte on the birth of her baby boy!

23) Thank you all for the encouraging words you’ve sent my way.

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Hello from the hospital

Hi everyone! As many of you know, one of my family members has been going through some unexpected medical stuff and whereas I like to blab my news to everyone whose path I cross, especially online, this person isn’t ready to be treated differently and to have people come up and say, “How are you feeling? Are you ok?” with a concerned look on their face and so I can only vaguely talk about it. In fact, I’ve decided I’m going to give this person a fake name: Marvin. Except Marvin might be female or might be male. I’m not saying just yet. Anyway, Marvin was admitted to the hospital on Wednesday to have a big operation and while doing the operation they found the thing they were looking for, or rather, the thing they suspected might be there (a pastrami sandwich, a parakeet and a personalized keyring) and so Marvin is now recovering from surgery. Once Marvin fully recovers a plan will be put in place for how to treat aforementioned pastrami, parakeet and keyring. Also, in case anyone is wondering: this all sucks. I’m sure there’s a positive way of seeing this and I’m presenting the very positive way of seeing this to Marvin since it’s important when discussing parakeets to stay focused on the present but I really hate seeing Marvin all drugged and weak and scared and also Marvin fell over the morning of the surgery so Marvin has a cut and a bruise on his/her forehead from falling from the toilet into the shower. That has nothing to do with the parakeets or Marvin’s condition, just that Marvin was tired and wobbly and half awake and fell asleep on the toilet so poor Marvin has to wear a wrist bracelet that says “fall risk.” I keep joking that I’m going to change it to “fart risk” because I feel, in situations like this, it’s best not to overwhelm them with anything close to actual humor.

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Clue, my show, I sneezed, iTunes

Recently I played Clue with my mom and sister and while it’s unflattering to gloat, I won by a longshot. My sister claims she’d also figured it out and was about to guess the same winning trio if only she could get her playing piece into the correct room (which now escapes me. The Attic? The Mud Room? The Bonus Room? The Telescope Room? The Lanai?) however I’m pretty sure she’s lying. What makes me so sure? She’s a total liar and not to be trusted with any board games. The Great Monopoly Heist of 82? The Giant Boggle Debacle of 93? The Humongous Candy Land Rip Off of 2005? All my sister’s handiwork. Once she even stole all the ladders from Chutes & Ladders. Have you ever tried playing just Chutes? It’s a very fast game. But more than my sister and her sticky fingers is the fact that I’m pretty sure I’d be an asset to any small police department or other crime solving agency because the way I solved the murder in Clue the other night was genius and I’m pretty sure I should try my hand at forensics next.

In other news I am still in CA and I just sneezed. Not a tiny little dainty sneeze but a big “Oh no!” kind of sneeze where even though I sneezed a good five seconds ago I think if you were to look at me you would be able to tell I just sneezed. You would also be able to tell that I just woke up. I’m beautiful and I have allergies is what I’m trying to tell you.

Tomorrow’s show should be fun, but then I always say that. Here’s the FB page with info. Not only will my friend Yami (and maybe her baby!) be on the show but Dustin is in these parts and I’m trying to get him to be on the show too because then it’d be like we’ve gone on location. Like if Benson & Stabler were in California. There I go again with the crime solving.

Anything else? Well things are still kind of shitty in regards to the specific shitty situation which you may or may not know a tiny bit about and which I can only refer to in these oblique ways but completely unrelated and fairly fantastic: my shows are now on itunes!

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On today's ARIYNBF

Due to unexpected events I’m back out in California which means another special From My Parent’s House episode of ARIYNBF.

In addition to appearances by my parents and Tobey, I’m super excited that my friend MICHAEL ROSAS, who is one of my very favorite musicians ever will be appearing on the show and will be playing live.

If you are unfamiliar with Michael Rosas, you should get familiar pronto. I’ve written about him and his projects over the years. He used to front SMILE and then SATISFACTION. Lately he’s been playing solo shows. I’m pretty sure I’m leaving out important Rosas-related info. (He also appeared alongside MATT COSTA in an episode of THE DAILY ALISON (my old web show) from a year ago.)

Aren’t these all caps annoying? I THINK SO.

So please tune in and chat on Sunday at 7pm ET/4pm PT.

Plus FAN PHONE CALL and all the other stuff you love.

*******************************************************

I’m going to say it again: Watch at http://Ustream.tv/alisonrosen on SUNDAY at 7pm ET/4pm PT. (don’t be fooled by that tricky time zone thing!)

And have you become a fan of the ARIYNBF page? Free cheese for the first four thousand! (note: no gouda) http://facebook.com/ARIYNBF

More info? You betcha! http://alisonrosen.com/

Phone a fan info here: http://alisonrosen.com/phone-a-fan-details/

Also, keep nakedness at bay with an ARIYNBF tshirt! Free shipping for a limited time. http://alisonrosen.com/gear

Perhaps you’d like to buy a shoutout? Do it! http://alisonrosen.com/advertise

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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!

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