When you live in New York you don’t spend a lot of time in people’s bedrooms. It’s quite possible to be good friends with someone and have seen their apartment once or never. I like to imagine that when we all grow up and are married and have children this magically changes, however I also figured by now I wouldn’t need to call my parents across the country when I’m lost or filling out forms I don’t understand.
Anyway, over the weekend I saw my friend’s Koryn’s apartment and the minute I walked into her bedroom I fell in love. I can’t figure out exactly what it was, something about the way the light was streaming through the windows and the symmetry and the plants. The weird thing is that normally I’m not a fan of red—I’m a fan of blue and white and green and purple and cool tones—however it works in her room and feels very peaceful. So I had to take a photo so I could try to figure out what it is that I’m responding to.
When my sister and I filed for our imaginary trial separation she kept the garbage can and I kept the cheese grater. I don’t grate cheese but I’ll be damned if she’s going to get everything, you know? And since then I’ve had this situation going on.
Every time Dustin sees it he says, “I see you still have the hanging trash bags.” It’s almost as if he finds it unsightly. The truth is that I also find it unsightly though and so I need to get a real adult trash can. One that smokes and drinks but also goes to bed early. I’m thinking I want one of those fancy stainless steel numbers with the pedal. They’re expensive though and I don’t want to throw my money away. Get it? A trash joke!
So here’s where I turn to my trusty readership or refuse-familiar dude bros to ask for some suggestions for what kind of can I should get. Won’t this be fun? I think so! Sort of like when I went insane with the couch. Yay for us all!
And I’ve already lined up a special guest for today’s vlog! Woohoo!
I was thinking this morning about people who decide not to watch the news or read newspapers because it’s too depressing and how I find, in general, that’s a pretty irresponsible stance. But then I was thinking, WHY do I feel that way? I mean, what good does it do me to know that 16 were killed in a school attack in Germany and the police who are called something other than police in German killed the attacker? It’s not like I was about to go to school in Germany. You know?
I mean I guess it’s just best to live in reality. That’s something I’ve felt for a long time. But then there are people who would say that reality is somewhat subjective (I would argue that’s semantics and that it’s really not that subjective) and then there’s a whole industry that’s cropped up around this idea that you can forge your own reality by just shutting it all out and la la la la la happy thoughts la la.
Sorry, I’ve been bad at posting the last couple days and then I drop this not-very-fun bomb on you guys.
Love me anyway?
Ok thanks.
Also: new couch arrived today! It already has a piece of my hair on it. And how do I feel about the fact that I chose a light colored couch even though everyone told me not to? I feel like… everyone was right! I mean, I like how it looks but I’m already afraid to sit on it or stain it in any way. Yay for me!
I guess you just sometimes have to do the things that everyone tells you not to do. And sometimes you have to always do them.
1. My computer is surrounded by a force field of inactivity which sucks me into sitting in front of it and blithely fucking around (as ever Todd, I am sorry!) and yet accomplishing very little. It’s enervating. Maybe it’s releasing carbon monoxide fumes? I will attach a detector to my forehead.
2. Um… I know there was something else I was going to say but see number 1.
3. Oh yes! I received a call today and my caller ID said “telemarketer.” It was the single best moment I’ve ever experienced with caller ID and now I’m marrying caller ID and my last name will be ID. Alison Rosen ID. And I’ll give birth to LCD read outs. I tried to take a picture but because of the flash it didn’t come out.
Yep, you can’t make it out.
Also can’t make it out in this one.
And then I noticed a striking similarity between the blurry bright greenish caller ID photos and the blurry bright greenish me photo above.
And then here’s a photo of a duckling.
4. I’m going to be on a radio show tomorrow around 11am ET. I’ll tell you the details when I’m good and ready so just step off.
5. Just kidding. Step on!
6. Dustin and I recorded what struck both of us as an insanely awesome supersized video which is like the ghost in the machine. Is that a reference to something that fucks (sorry Todd) up your machine? Because that’s what I mean. It’s the shoe that the saboteurs threw into the whatever they threw shoes into. It’s a sabot. Could I BE more pretentious right now with my fancy French references? [This just in, I went looking for a link about the origin of the word sabotage and apparently that story may be apocryphal. So, hmmmmmmmm.]
7. What I mean to say is that I can’t get the damn thing on my computer and it’s bugging the fuck (I’m not even going to say it this time) out of me. But I will persevere.
8. Except apparently not near my computer because of the aforementioned daze I’m lulled into when I get near it.
9. Sleepy. Sooooosleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy.
10. You know that scene in The Jungle Book where Mowgli is sort of hypnotized by the snake whose eyes go in circles? Am I even remembering this correctly? I’m not sure because I’m practically sleep blogging. This is like that.
So how am I doing you might be wondering? Well this morning I woke up to a super uncomfortable burning sensation going from my belly button to my knees so I writhed around a bit and then threw up a few times. It was refreshing, really, and by that I mean it was so horrible that I actually started crying at one point because I’m very brave. Then I whimpered and felt sorry for myself while thinking that actually I’m lucky that I don’t have to be working right now and then I slept for awhile. Now I feel better so I can turn my attention to more important things.
1. Not only did the pilot on the flight have braces but the flight attendant who was making the announcements had a speech impediment so it sounded like “inflatable vethts are located under your theat.”
2. Tobey may be eating his Tobeys again.
3. We’re closing in on couch decision time if I want to get the couch I already have made in a stock plus fabric. (my options are either returning it outright, exchanging it for another identical one since it’s ripped in a couple spots, or getting the couch in a fabric I might like better.) I’m leaning towards the latter, even though it’s more expensive, because I think the couch is comfortable I’m just not loving the material. So help me decide which of these I should go with. Oh and if you have something assholish to say, please just don’t. I have a headache. (That’s not directed at any of you whom I love to bits. Just saying in general.)
Couch as it is now (but without those throw pillows)
Clockwise from top left: camel, chamois, sand, latte (in real life latte is lighter than it’s appearing here)
Another view: from left, chamois, latte, camel, sand
By we I mean me. Is it cheesy or neato? I find most things are one of the two. And yes, I know I need help. It’s the Quinn sofa from Z Gallerie and it’s got silver nail heads on the arm, upping the neat/cheese quotient.
Here I am with the imaginary father of my imaginary children, Joshua McCarroll, Red Eye wunderkind and McConaughey correspondent. We’re in the green room, wearing green. Well, one of us was. By the way, McConaughey is kind of impossible to spell.
Here I am doing The Strategy Room earlier today. I totally came up with the best strategy. I’d tell you, but it’s a secret.
Here I am smiling, probably at something I said.
Here I am cocking my head because I heard a high pitched noise or smelled a piece of kibble.
This is me on Red Eye last night shortly before Greg called me out for not answering the specific question he asked. What you didn’t hear in the commercial break? Me saying “How dare you call me out for not answering the question! Not answering the question is the backbone of this show!” And then here’s where I explained that I don’t think smart pills actually make you smart. I think they make you annoying.
And then here I am making this face.
Oh look, it’s the beach (I had to get these off my camera. They’re from my recent trip of OC for Thanksgiving).
Another beach shot.
Another beach shot. Lovely, isn’t it?
And then here’s a couch I saw today at Raymour & Flanigan. This one’s four hundred and something dollars cheaper than the one sitting in my apartment right now but which I could return. Should I return the one in my apartment and get this one instead? It’s entirely polyester/synthetic/foam whereas there are actual feathers/down in the one in my apartment. Hm. It seemed comfortable though.
I should be packing. I should be packing clothes for LA and Canada and I should be putting things in bottles and then ziploc bags and I should also be stuffing socks into shoes. By my own logic, I plan to go naked in Orange County.
For someone who has so little style, it’s weird that I’m spending so much time reading about style. I don’t plan to apply it. I just like to look at the pictures. And yet my words have style. Sometimes I speak entirely in corduroy.
So I think maybe it gets worse before it gets better because while I feel much saner about the couch these days—meaning I feel like eh, it’s a couch, there are a lot of different colors I could be happy/unhappy with—I will admit that yesterday one of the sales guys at Crate and Barrel caught me surreptitiously lean down and then rub my face against a couch cushion. I had to see how it would feel if I were napping on it! It was a nap test!
But perhaps the way I did it, as if I wanted to get a better look at something and then oops, lost my balance! I seem to have fallen forward and landed on my cheek, I better just sweep to the right before getting up—wasn’t the coolest. And then when the guy looked at me across the store, and he had this expression of horror on his face, I shot him a steely “let’s not tell anyone about this,” look. It’s ok though, because I caught him making a huge furniture faux pas a couple weeks ago. He told me two couches were made by the same manufacturer when they so are not.
You see, I could sell that store’s furniture, that’s how intimately acquainted I am with each line and each collection and each manufacturer and each couch’s cheek feel.
Tomorrow I go to LA for MINI. Then I’m in Orange County for Thanksgiving and my dad’s bday (all his kids and their spouses and kids are coming! I’m bringing three husbands, four kids and a turtle) and then I’m going to Canada to film six episodes of a TV show. I’m not sure which one yet but if I had my choice it would be “You Can’t Do That On Television.”
That’s not true. It would be Facts of Life. I don’t care that it wasn’t filmed in Canada. But I actually do know which show. I just don’t want to tell you because I like to keep secrets from you. It makes me feel important. You know, like I’m on the inside of something and you’re on the outside of it, pressing your face against the glass—or the couch cushion of my heart—begging to be let in. Look, here we are, all of us on this side of the couch cushion having a jolly time and totally knowing the name of the TV show and laughing and saying “aboot” when we mean “about” and paying in dollars that are called dollars but are different! And there you are, alone and confused, wishing you could be included, mumbling something about maple. It’s so sad.
