Wednesday, February 28, 2007

What I Learned Today

If I ever open my own spa, I'm going to let clients choose their own music.

During my copper tub peppermint-ginger rejuvenation soak, I thought, "I'd be much more relaxed right now if I were rocking out to Taking Back Sunday instead of listening to the 23rd minute of a Tibetan monk play Enya's greatest hits on a didjeridoo."

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

The Price Is Right, Bitch

I went to a taping of the Price Is Right.

Wait, what?

Yeah, that's right, motherfuckers. It happened! We were a group of 20 believers who proudly wore our identical t-shirts and famous price-tag name tags. It was awesome. Brilliant. Life-altering.

In all seriousness, if you have the chance to attend this show, do it. And, do it now because Bob Barker is retiring! The people you meet that day will forever change your outlook on America. And they make it so exciting, that you will never be so genuinely psyched to be somewhere. I promise.

Highlights of the day: When one of the girls from our group got called to "Come on down!" And, the best part was during a commercial break when Bob asked our group where we were from.
We said, "The Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre."
And, then, Bob said, "The Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre? ...Sounds like a bunch of drunks to me!"


Monday, February 26, 2007

ashes to ashes

I was raised Catholic. I'm not sure what I am now, but there are certainly a few traditions of Catholicism that I still admire. One of them is Ash Wednesday, which I recently participated in, as I do most every year. It's a somber day that begins Lent, and it really provokes rather introspective thought as a priest puts the ashes of palms on your forehead while saying, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

Depending on where I am in life, I always take this comment in a different way each year.

Sometimes I think, "Life is short, so I'd better have fun now."

But, sometimes, I think, "If I'm worried about something now, I shouldn't be. Because one day, I'll be dead and it won't matter."

And, this year, I thought, "If this gives me a huge zit in the middle of my forehead before my trip to Mexico, I'm gonna be PISSED."

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Are You Reading My Weekly "Lost" Column?

You should be:

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Fuck You, Alison Becker!

Dear Alison Becker-Hurt,

Let me start by saying that I have eaten at one of your restaurants, and it was one of the best meals I have ever had. For realsies.

But, evidently, it wasn't good enough for you to reign supreme in our silent ongoing battle. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm sure you Google your name just as often as I do. And, as it turns out, you and I have the same name. So, I'm sure you've realized that over the past few years, I have begun to dominate our Google results.

At first, "Alison Becker" yielded page after page of praise over your food, your cookbooks, and your celebrity patrons. But, I shall cry the lonely tears of defeat no more! Little by little, my underground comedy credits and cable television accomplishments have overtaken your foie gras and duck a l'orange.

Today, I have achieved what I consider ultimate victory. Of the first 10 results, 9 of them are mine. It is a sad day for you, I can imagine. But, Ms. Becker, there is only room for one z-list celebrity named Alison Becker, and I'm afraid it is I.

Well played, Ms. Becker!

Alison Becker

p.s.- But, seriously, if you want to join forces and get rid of that OTHER "Alison Becker" whose college soccer stats keep popping up on, like, page 5, let me know.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Best Text Message I Have Ever Gotten (from my ex-boyfriend)

"I just walked into the womens locker room at the gym."

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Let's Make A Pact

Let's all make a pact to never, ever, ever use the term "eat a girl out" again.

It makes me want to vom.

There are so many available euphemisms: oral stimulation, going down on a chick, etc.

It's not a buffet; it's a vagina. And, let's be honest, if you use the term "eat you out" in an intimate situation, chances are someone will be asked to go home.

I realize, of course, that I used the very term that I despise in this blog post. But, I feel like it was a necessary sacrifice in order to institute the current ban on this phrase. So, from this moment forward, let's all agree never to use it again. Ever.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Underused Phone Feature

I've been really into forwarding drunk messages back to the people who sent them to me.

I always forget about the forwarding voicemail feature, but I recently rediscovered it.

It's embarrassing to hear yourself drunk the next morning, but in the end, it's probably a wake-up call. Literally, and figuratively.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Topless Fun Bus

Fat Tourist Dude: This was NOT what I had in mind when I googled "topless fun los angeles."

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Go Cocks!

Remember in high school when douchey dudes wore those white caps from South Carolina that said "COCKS"? I've decided I'm going to buy one of those and wear it.

It'll be the perfect boy filter. If a guy knows I'm wearing it ironically, he totally gets a point.

If he thinks I'm wearing it for real, I'll try my best not to be date raped.

Monday, February 12, 2007

New Word; Use It!

I'm coining a new term. I just thought of it: "hip."

Dude who hides the fact that he is married while he tries to flirt with you. May also be extended to girls who do the same, or even to those hiding the fact that they have a significant other, even if it's not a spouse.

Origin: hip, or h.i.p, abbreviation for "hand in pocket," from the action a married man performs to hide his wedding band as he's talking to you.

Example: That hip totes made like he was avail, but then his bitch came over and was all up on him.

I'm also thinking about extending it to verb form, as in: Bro, keep your guard up with that cutie, 'cause I think she's hippin'.

Friday, February 2, 2007

Survival Tip #37

If you find yourself in a restaurant in Los Feliz, and there is suddenly a blackout, convince the guy sitting across from you in the dark to join you in leading a loud sing-along of "I Will Survive."

Other restaurant goers will join in, and soon, the lights will magically come back on. I promise.