I'm Alive

For those of you who still have Vera Vogue hanging around on a reader--I don't think this blog is making a comeback anytime soon. But we'll see! Saved By the Bell just "reunited" (minus Screech) for my favorite magazine, People, so anything is possible.

A lot of really great, exciting things have been happening over the last couple months and I have to funnel my creative energy elsewhere. Because, you know, posting about mascara on this thing? Creatively draining. Really.

But, good news...if are so bored you HAVE TO know what I'm up to (which has been a whole lot of comedy writing/performing and wedding planning), you can check out the following sites:

Alison Bennett Dot Com (if Google ever unlists as an attack site...just ignore the warning)
Twitter
Taxidermy Church (where I post about wedding things)

As of April, I am now a house writer for an Upright Citizens Brigade sketch comedy team (or Maude team), GORILLA GORILLA. Learn more about our shows here.

Thanks, everyone! I'm thinking about posting some videos I wrote on Ye Olde Blog, so stay tuned.

Come see my show!

Click here for reservations.

I Love Shaq... So Much

The Stable Grows!

Two of my favorite people are featured in Time Out's "Date These New Yorkers":

Frank

DC

Interested? E-mail Time Out NY or crash my wedding.

Goals

Between Amy Poehler and M.I.A., I'm beginning to think that women who do not rap while nine and a half months pregnant are pussies. If rap still exists in 2049 when I change my mind about these kinds of things and become a Crazy Octuplet Mother, I'll know what to do.

All My Dreams Are Coming True

I'm on Nick's computer. Google saves past searches for autofill or whatever, which can be helpful.

Or telling.

One of Nick's recent searches:

He "can't remember" the origins of this inquiry, but I'm taking this search as an indication that I am STILL on the road to achieving all my dreams.

Marrying a gay dude? Mindblowingly beneficial to my solo act.

Bicycle Built For... One

It is a well-documented fact that my favorite activity is eavesdropping, rivaled only by peering into the windows of townhouses in the West Village and eating guacamole (although never simultaneously.) Last night, when exiting the subway, I was stuck behind a slow moving couple, although I hesitate labeling the duo as such because shit obviously wasn’t going well. The woman, who was about seven feet tall and could be described as “handsome,” was telling a very complicated story about the whereabouts of her bicycle to her male companion.

Even for a seasoned eavesdropper, like me, I had a hard time following the tale. In summation, this is the story:

This fall, the woman rode her bicycle to Bedford Avenue to go shopping. She locked it up outside a store.

She walked home.

In the days following, convinced her bicycle was stolen from her apartment’s storage unit, she filed a police report.

Three months later, she passed the store while shopping with her girlfriend. “That’s my bike!” she exclaimed. Her girlfriend, puzzled, asked if it was the one that had been “stolen.” “No! I must have left it here!” The woman then unlocked the bike and rode it home.

(The last bit of the story fascinates me- she kept the key to her missing bike ON HER PERSON for ninety days?)

Not surprisingly, the woman’s date did not enjoy the story. He looked terrified and she was too busy being “charming” to notice. As a person who loses her wallet on an annual basis (if not more), I am sympathetic to the bicyclist, but I know when I’m turning a man off with my blatant irresponsibility. Just weeks ago, I even hesitated telling Nick that I had I lost my wallet (albeit temporarily), until my buddy Caitlin said, “Good, start lying about money before you get married. Grease the wheels. I think you want to live in Mad Men!” I was so horrified by her statement (although, the clothes are tempting), I immediately told Nick about the wallet and tried to think of additional things I could “confess.”

I came up with nothing. But I've never been one to go on a bike ride.