News and couches

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.

A few things

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. Sooooo sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy.

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.



11. Maybe it's the snow?

12. I got a call today. My couch is ready to be scheduled for delivery. For those who are new to my blog, well, perhaps the old timers around here can explain the significance in the comments? I'm too lazy and tired.

13. Oh and one more thing, where are my blog followers going? The number went from 111 to 104. Is it because of the koala bear?

14. Just didn't want to end on 13 even though I'm not superstitious except for sometimes.

More about the couch?

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

How do we feel about this?

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.

A slew of photos

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.

Interior design from TV shows and movies

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.

Anyway though, I just found this site about how to get the set design looks from TV and movies and it's cool http://silverscreensurroundings.blogspot.com/

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.

Also, Gossip Girl made me cry tonight.

Furniture frottage

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.

It's come to this

Fabric swatches on my couch.


More fabric swatches.


More.

There aren't different swatches in each photo. Just a different configuration.

In other news, today I went to a press luncheon presentation for Chile. This is one of the perks of not working in an office—getting to go to things like this. See, I used to get invited to stuff like this all the time but had to say no because if I vacated my desk for three hours I might never come back. Back in those days I was young and naive. I didn't know what I know today, which is that even though you might think Chilean food is spicy, it's not. That's one of the big misconceptions about this diverse and friendly country with many organic ingredients. "Flavored well, not spicy," said a bald man wearing a pink tie. Also, there is something called Merken and NO ONE made any merkin jokes. That's how civilized this crowd was.

Um, what else? Please forgive me, I'm distracted by Jeff Conaway and that piece of work Vicki Whatshername. Oh wait, I'm wrong! He's not bitching at Vicki! He was telling the new tech Luisha that he doesn't like her. I should never multitask like this.

So I jotted down a few choice sentences I heard today. These are they:

"I just want to give a shout out to the avocado oil."

"Basil? Sauvignon? Love it!"

"Sole Valhalla"

"It's not a wine that shouts at you with exclamation points."

My friend Mike took some photos which he told me he's heard are referred to, in the porn business, as food porn. Or maybe it was in the food writing world.

I'm joking as I'm actually familiar with this atrocious term and long ago decided that until a naked person appears in the photos I don't think we should be calling it porn. Have people no respect for porn?

Um. Oh, Mike's photos:





Oh, also, also! I think I'll get to drive a MINI E which is the new electric MINI. I'm totally going to try to plug my hairdryer into it.

Wear yourself out by listening to me go on and on about furniture

Earlier today I had a whole temper tantrum inside my own head and decided that when I got home I would write a blog post entitled "I don't know how I feel about my couch. P.S. I'm neurotic and going to die alone."

Then I found out that title had already been taken so I had to go with the one above.

See, I've been going back and forth on this couch. Not literally. On the upside, it's comfortable. On the downside, sometimes I look at it and think "it looks like barf."

But considering how goddamn long I took to decide and how annoying I was about it shouldn't I just love it? Love it to pieces?

Because I don't. But I think I like it. Maybe? I don't know. I like it better now that I bought throw pillows for it (I haven't decided which ones I like, hence the three different pillows.) Earlier tonight I decided I'd go with a silver, gold and white theme which is neato and, um, yeah. Neato's all I got on that one. Fancy? Neato and fancy? I could do neato and fancy. And secretly Christmasy.

But then sometimes I look at the couch and think "it looks like a giant gum eraser." I also think it looks like liver and I also think it looks like steak that's been chewed up and spit out. Also: gristle.

But then I see it in photos and I think maybe it's ok.

See, complicating matters is the fact that the delivery men nicked it in a couple spots so C&B offered to replace it. I explained that it was kind of difficult to get it into the space so they're sending someone out to look at it here to see if he can patch it up in situ. What does in situ mean? Hold please.

God I'm smart.

Um, yeah, so anyway, if I act fast I could get this big gray menace out of my apartment and my life forever and then I could invite something else into my living room that I will go nuts about. Seriously, I'm sick and tired of myself.

But it's not like I never like anything ever. When I look at my bed, my white duvet covered bed, I feel calm and good. I don't have this crazy ping ponging meat-comparison making reaction happening.

Yet I'm not at peace with the decision to just return the fucker either. That makes me anxious too.

Let's talk about my last apartment, shall we? I moved into it under duress. I wanted to stay in the apartment I was in before that, my first real apartment in New York, but it's a long story and that wasn't feasible so there my sister and I were, needing to find an apartment or break up and she had a friend who was vacating this great apartment in the village and we went and looked at it and because I couldn't find anything else I said yeah, that's fine. But then before we pulled the trigger I began doubting the decision and was freaking out and begged a friend from work who was later my boyfriend, unless he was already my boyfriend at the time, to go look at the place with me. We did and he reassured me that it was a great place and I would be happy there.

Sadly it was a terrible place and I was miserable there.

Or rather, it was a pretty decent place but I wasn't happy there anyway. I never liked that apartment or that neighborhood. Also, there were mice. Oh my God, my couch looks like a big sheet of mice.

So I was thinking about all this this morning and thinking that if I'm having doubts about the couch, instead of letting myself be talked into it, I should just honor those doubts and not keep the damn thing and just wait until I find one I really feel good about.

But then sometimes I look at it and I like it.

And it's comfortable. It's really comfortable.

So then why not just get it in a different color?

Because that will take 12 weeks. And plus I'm trying to avoid having people remove it and bring in another one but I'm not sure why I'm trying so hard to avoid that. I mean, just because my idea of hell is moving furniture doesn't mean that someone whose job it is to move furniture feels the same way.

But still, I just feel like I'm doing it. That thing I do. I don't know what that thing I do is which makes it hard to know whether I'm really doing it, but I suspect I am. I mean, this feels very me in the extreme. I hate extreme me.

I'm also trying to see if it's possible to get slipcovers for this couch. I mean, I know you can order them from C&B for about a thousand dollars but for that much, I may as well just get a different couch.

Still reading? I'm sorry to put you through this. On the upside... um.... well okay technically there is no upside. Oh wait, I know! Today I saw a woman pushing two black poodles in a stroller!

Also, I'm aware there's a world that exists outside me and this couch. I find that annoying, too.


And then I see this photo and I like it again.


I also like ducklings.


Here I am not thinking about couches.

My couch is eleven hours old

And already I've fallen asleep on it and nearly lost the remote control in its butt, or whatever the appropriate furniture term for seam between the cushions is.

Also, I know the couch is much older than eleven hours but I choose to ignore the life it led before we crossed paths.

Also, unrelated, I don't like video chatting. I just don't. No thank you, gmail.

Furniture Design Styles (tm)

I've been thinking a lot about Rachel Ashwell lately. She's the founder of a design style called Shabby Chic and she's made a fortune stuffing this frilly, distressed white-on-white style down the public's throat. I'm a member of that public, by the way. Today I sat in a shabby chic chair in the Shabby Chic store in Soho and had to agree with the sales girls: "It's like being hugged! It's like a big down hug! It's like a two thousand dollar hug!" What does a two thousand dollar hug feel like, you may be wondering? Like being embraced by a big marshmallow peep cloud, but not sticky, just soothing and warm and comforting. If my sister were worth two thousand dollars I would sell her and buy that chair, no offense Laura.

So then I was thinking that I should create my own design style and trademark it and write a bunch of books and sell DVDs and give ol' fussy Ashwell a run for her money. Here are some movements I'm thinking of trademarking:

Shabby Crappy
Crappy Chic
Crab Chic
Mid-Century Morbid
Yellow
Oodles of Ribbons
Honk If You Love Wood Furniture
Bright Lights; Big Chaise Lounge
Pretentious
Squishy Washy
Fuck This Chair Is Hard

Judge me not

Readers, I'm about to do something rash. I'm going to a Laz-Y-Boy Furniture Gallery. In the same way that a soon-to-be married person might need one more night at a strip club, I need to see what's out there one last time before I settle on the Crate and Barrel couch. See, even my language is troubling. Settle? Am I settling on the couch? Shouldn't I wait to find the couch that's going to sweep me off my feet and make me feel alive and inspire me to greatness? Is that couch even out there?

That's why I need to sow my upholstery oats, even if my mind is already 99 percent made up.

I'm terrible with spatial relations

But this is sort of fun: http://woodgears.ca/eyeball/index.html

This just in: I'm on Red Eye tonight!

Could your Monday night/Tuesday morning have gotten any better? I think not.

Here's a picture of a peaceful looking bedroom to enjoy while you ponder how awesome this is. I found it here.

This again

I see the above photo and I'm back to wanting a white couch. (photo found here http://designholeonline.com)

I think I'm just going to have to replace my bed with a couch so I can have two couches in my apartment, one grey and one white, and I'll sleep in the pantry with my broken hair dryer.

I guess I don't really have a pantry come to think of it. Crap, I should probably get one of those too.

Need a dose of cuteness?

I think you do. These are the birthday cards my mom received from her favorite daughter and my sister.




In other news I'm ass high in the midst of couch shopping. Well, let me back up. So last night I'm reading my vampire book and I get an email from one Bill Schulz cajoling me into coming into the Activity Pit chatroom and I did and it was fun but it was pointed out to me that I haven't been blogging as much lately and it must be because I'm busy. Yeah, busy sitting on couches. Imagine couches are braille and my butt is blind.

But see, there is something frivolous about the couch decision and so perhaps I haven't wanted to admit how much of my energy and time is being taken up by it because I like to think I'm a person of substance. In this case, polyester foam with down ticking.

So I've narrowed it down to two models, and I will post those pictures, but first I want to say that now that I'm all couch aware–to the point that I know that Room & Board's Kendall is basically Crate & Barrel's Huntley Woods with different pillows, which is to say I can see the frame beneath the fluff, I'm again having a thought that I've had periodically over the years which is that the human face comes in a limited number of models and you just see the same face over and over again on different people with slight variation. Do you know what I mean? My thoughts are very mushy and marshmallowy and kind of dumb right now. It's because I have two whole couches in there and the left arm facing sectional.


Do I want this couch?


Or this one?