Category Archives: no i’m not drunk

Top 10 Things You Need To Do In 5 Ways To Be 20 Times Better At These 4 Things (By Age 30)


Sometimes, when you’re doing things, you have to do other things, and that’s a hardship in anyone’s life. We all strive to be better at doing these things, and that’s why I’m offering these tips. Because there are moments when certain things in our lives become other things in our lives and that’s when we realize that we can do any of the things. I believe in all of you. Here are the Top 10 Things You Need To Do In 5 Ways To Be 20 Times Better At These 4 Things (By Age 30). The second thing will shock you!

10. Text your man sexy texts!


Ladies, this is a real truth that may shock you, but I’m not going to sugarcoat it, as I am not a sugarcoater deviant — your man isn’t always gonna be there for you, so be sure to tart yourself up and send him some sexy texts — straight masterpieces! This isn’t slutshaming or a takedown of misogyny — don’t believe me? Just watch! No but seriously, ladies, it’s important to let your man know that he is the number one dude for you, unless he cheats on you, then leave him forever! Just do it! I am your God now.

9. Always believe in yourself.


It’s really hard to be a 20 something in this day and age, with the Internet and the cellular telephone devices and the Bluetooth technology. How do you even know where your brain ends and your iPhone begins? You don’t, and that’s not your fault. It’s going to be okay, because if you believe in yourself, everything is always okay forever and always. I believe you have the strength to be your truest self. So don’t not stop believin’.

8. Have a backup plan.


Heartbreakers gonna break break break break break break break break break break break break break break break and the fakers fake fake gonna fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake so shake it shake it shake it shake it shake it shake it like a Polaroid picture off off off off off off.

7. The 1990’s is a decade!


OMG, when you have a Tamagotchi on a Sanrio mini backpack at a taping of Nickelodeon’s Guts, you are one tubular dude! We all danced to the hits of our times, so try dancing to two-hit wonders, instead of just the one-hit wonders (of the times) or else, A-ZIG-A-ZAG-AHHH!  Because any ’90’s kid will know that we got knocked down, but we got up again, because you ain’t EVER gonna keep us down! Does anyone else remember Are You Afraid of the Dark? LIKE OMG, the clown episode!!!! (Too “on the nose”? LOL)!

6. You won’t believe what this celebrity looks like now.


I’m not even going to post a photo of this celebrity, because you wouldn’t even believe it! Let’s just say, he or she looks like they’ve aged 10 years — and they totally have! Fuck them!

5. Don’t let anyone keep you from voicing your voice.


I believe at the bottom of my core that our voices — our voices — are what separate us from the animals. No offensive of course to animals — they’ve done so much for us. Have been there, for us, the same way that we — yes, we — can be there for each other. This isn’t to suggest that you have to be able to speak — no, no, you can communicate in many other ways, all of which are valid and special and unique to you, and I love you for it. I want you to be fearless. You’re a lion in a word of lemmings.

4. Your body is perfect just the way it is.



3. I saw a dog once.


It was cute and small and I saw it and said, “Doggy!” and my boyfriend acknowledged that I said that and we kept walking but as we kept walking, I smiled at the dog and it smiled back, in its own way.



Yes, this is somewhat controversial, but I firmly believe that we should all be nice to old people. Coming from my background it’s important to be kind to our elderly members of society because they know things that we don’t and who knows what they’ll do for us? Will they put us on Mars? Probably. So if we don’t treat them with the proper respect they deserve, we may not make it to the space station, and we’ll suffocate.

1. Be offended by everything.


Dear nation, nothing is good anymore, everything is terrible, there is no hope. My future, once laid out like a colorful map on a child’s restaurant placemat, is now as muddy and dirty as the face of a world-weary hobo. I am in a swimming pool that is lit by youth. I am weary, I am old, I am sailing on a boat made of newspaper, and like the medium itself, I am sinking. There is an ocean between all of us, an ocean of dreams and misspent anxieties. How can anyone say which path is the right one? There is no right path, there is only a desert. A desert of uncertainty, of broken spirits. It’s time to saddle up and forge our way through, no matter the costs. I am a pinwheel of pain, and I am in it alone. But who isn’t?


Don’t forget the bottle of Pinot Grigio, LOL! Which things can you recommend to do in 5 ways to be 20 times better at these 4 things by age 30? There are no wrong answers!


Photo by George Silk via LIFE Photo Archives for Google.



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New Year, New Shit

new years resolutions

So my boyfriend and I met up with some friends of mine, a married couple by the names of David and Anna. And David mentioned that I hadn’t updated my blog in a while.

And he’s damn correct.

Why is that? Why does my blog get the least attention? Well, I can answer that, Sherlock. Sir Benedict Cumberbatch. It’s because I write for so many other different blogs and outlets, that the blog gets pushed to the bottom of my list.

And that’s something I want to change.

Yes, that is a NEW YEARS RESOLUTION!!! (Or is it New Year’s, with an apostrophe? I could easily Google this, but I won’t, so someone tell me) post. And in classic Uncle Almie fashion, it’s late.

And thus, here are my New Year(‘?)s Resolutions. Certain ones, like “lose weight” and “get a flat tummy” are GONE, because they’re harmful. So is, “eat a taco with Kanye West”, because that’s also harmful.

My resolutions are:

  • blog more, on this very blog.
  • be less late.
  • be healthier.
  • be less lazy.
  • become a television writer (this is a big one.)
  • be more patient.
  • keep drinking wine (this is an easy one.)
  • overcome my fear of driving that I’ve developed, that I may blog about.
  • blog about my fear of driving.

Okay, so there we are. Easy enough when typed out, right? But the execution is harder, that’s the thing.

Every year I make an “end of the year video”, a video compiled of footage I took over the year. I think my favorite year is 2013, but here’s 2014:


2014 from almie rose on Vimeo.

If you want to see the others, click here. I’ve been doing them since 2011. You can have a mini film festival!

ANYWAY, those are my resolutions. How can I complete them? AND WHAT ARE YOURS? Let’s help each other!!

Oh PS HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAVID BOWIE!! IS THERE LIFE ON BARS??? (J/K I know it’s Mars, but I also know that there’s life on bars, too.)

Photo by LIFE Photo Archives for Google.

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10 Reasons Why Ghosts Are Fucking Dicks


Has this ever happened to you? You’re lying in bed, trying to drift off on the ole Slumbertrain, when suddenly, out of freakin’ nowhere, a ghost pops in, rattling his chains, moaning, scaring the everloving shit out of you, ruining your evening? It has, right? Of course it has, because ghosts are fucking jerks. They’re like toddlers — immature and full of spite. Which means they’re also like drunk adults. (My dad always said that kids are like small drunk adults, and I believe it’s the same for ghosts. Don’t ghosts do everything drunk adults do, aside from vomit? They’re loud, obnoxious, and unwanted — just like drunk people. I rest my pants.) Don’t even get me started on ghosts. If I start on ghosts, I may never stop. Because, like Miley, I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Don’t get the ghost industry tell you otherwise. Don’t listen to Jacob Marley or those Haunted Mansion bitches — they’re full of propaganda from the ghost industry. Just freakin’ full of it. Oh, what’s that? You want me to get started on ghosts? Okay. Here we go. Here are ten reasons why ghosts are fucking dicks. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, because I totally did. I could go on about ghosts forever, those dicks.

10. They show up year round.

Ghosts should be decent and disappear after Halloween. Do they? No. Why? BECAUSE THEY’RE DICKS. Could you imagine if Santa just showed up all year round? Yeah, at first we would think, “Fucking sweet, Santa’s here!” And then it would be, “Oh, sweet, Santa’s here — again.” And then it would be, “Great, Santa’s breaking into my house again, get a fucking job, hippie!” When you’ve got a good thing going, you don’t keep pushing the good thing, because it ruins the good thing. Everyone likes a good scare on/or around Halloween, but after and/or before that? That’s ridiculous and/or annoying.

9. They’re unemployed and live rent-free.

Can you imagine if anyone else tried to do this? If your friend just randomly showed up and was like, “Hey, I’m gonna live in your house and not pay rent or have a job and scare the shit out of you, eternally”? Would you be like, “Oh okay, cool, bro, thanks!” No you would NOT. Why do we let ghosts get away with it?? Because they’re fucking DICKS. They don’t adhere to our rules, because they think they’re fucking awesome. It’s bullshit and it needs to stop.

8. They can’t/won’t let go and move on.

Ghosts are like a bad ex — they can’t (or won’t) just let go and move the fuck on. Like, HELLO, YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD. MOVE ON TO THE NEXT STATION, BUDDY. YOU CAN’T PARK YOUR CAR HERE. You know? But they just don’t get it!!! They stick around like post-it notes. And you’re just like, “What are you not understanding?” But instead of telling you why they can’t move on, they just point at shit and moan. Which brings me to this next point:

7. They’re bad communicators.

Have you ever heard of a ghost who explained, in plain English, why he’s haunting you? NO YOU HAVEN’T, BECAUSE GHOSTS ARE DICKS. They NEVER explain why they’re haunting you. Sometimes they’ll drop clues, like they’ll point to something all ghostlike and moan and you’re supposed to figure out what the hell that means. I would love to meet a ghost who told me straight-up why they were haunting me. “Hey, I’m here haunting the shit out of you because this is where I died and I’m unable to move on” is what I’d like to hear. At least that’s a FOUNDATION we can BUILD ON. Jesus.

6. They never apologize for being dicks.

Speaking of poor communication, not only are ghosts bad at explaining why they’re haunting you, but they never even fucking apologize, even if you help them move on to the next world. Have you ever busted out a Ouija board and asked a ghost what’s up and ever gotten an apology? Has the planchette ever spelled out “I-M-S-O-R-R-Y”? No, of course not, because they’re dicks. Sure, we’ve got “Casper the Friendly Ghost” but aside from him, has anyone actually ever had a friendly ghost? Nice try, Ghost Industry!

5. They’re elitist.

Why is it that ghosts only haunt rich people? It’s called Disney’s Haunted Mansion, not Disney’s Haunted 700ft² Studio Apartment. Why is that? Ghosts have the time to terrorize Nicole Kidman and her kids in a freakin’ English manor but not the time to terrorize us normal folk? I see what you’re doing, Ghost Industry. You’re saying you don’t have the time to deal with us unless we’ve got rooms and rooms to haunt, and that is beyond elitist. Some of us can’t afford sprawling estates for you to roam and moan in. It’s like we don’t even matter to you. And frankly, I’m offended.

4. They break shit and don’t pay for it.

Ghosts just love to break shit. Lamps, dishes, creepy porcelain dolls — doesn’t matter, if it’s breakable, they’ll break it. And they never offer to pay for the stuff they wreck either. I mean, they’re already taking up rent-free space and now they’re breaking shit? What’s up with that?? Not cool.

3. They’re insomniacs.

Why don’t ghosts ever haunt during the day? Why is it always when we’re trying to sleep? Why can’t a ghost realize that it’s a beautiful day and do a little haunting then? Why do they wait until it’s dark and creepy and past midnight? Why? You guessed it, because they’re dicks. I guess they’re jealous that we can sleep and they can’t, for whatever reason, which I think is bullshit. If they can break shit and make noise, why can’t they sleep? It’s just another lie perpetuated by the Ghost Industry.

2. They’re stupid.

Yeah, I’m being real here — REAL CONTROVERSIAL — but I don’t care, I’m just gonna say it: ghosts are stupid. They’re not a very evolved species. In this technology fueled times of email and texting and everything else, have you ever had a ghost try to communicate properly, via one of those channels? Nope, they always go the old fashioned way — by moaning in chains, or breaking shit (see above). Is it because they’re dicks? YES. Is it also because they’re stupid? YES. Name one intelligent ghost. Name one ghost who wowed you with their intellectual prowess. You can’t, can you?

1. They’re just not that scary anymore.

If you’re going to do something, you should do it right and be the best at it, and I think at this point, ghosts just aren’t scary enough. You know what the scariest thing is that I can think of? HBOGo not working. That‘s fucking chilling. And because no ghost is as scary as my Internet not working, I’m calling them dicks because of it. You have ONE JOB, ghosts, ONE JOB! And you’re still not as scary as an “Internet timed out” notice. For SHAME.


Anyway, it’s all these reasons and probably more that  are total dicks, and if you’re not brainwashed by the fucking Ghost Industry, you’ll go right along with me, because if there’s one thing no one likes, it’s a goddamn ghost. And I feel no regret or remorse saying that.



Photo by Nina Leen via LIFE archive photos for Google.


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What Is The Big Deal About Ryan Gosling?

Ryan Gosling

What is the big deal about Ryan Gosling? I don’t get it, and I never have.

The Internet (and “real life”) is freaking out because he’s having a baby with actress Eva Mendes. Um, did anyone think they had a chance with Ryan Gosling? Like his having a baby was the ultimate personal shutdown to you, Ryan Gosling fan. Sorry, but him having a baby doesn’t affect you in any way. You didn’t have a chance before, and you won’t have a chance ever. Sorry. He’s not even the guy you probably think he is. He’s just an actor. You don’t even know him. Let him live his life.

Anyway, here’s what I don’t get about Ryan Gosling.

The Notebook Sucks.

Yeah, I said it. I said it and I regret nothing about saying it. That movie was a pandering piece of baloney. (When I get real feisty about a topic, instead of cursing, I turn into a 1930’s newspaper reporter. Baloney, I tells ya!) Ryan Gosling played an insane stalker. That scene when he tries to woo Rachel McAdams’s character by HANGING OFF A FERRIS WHEEL was absolutely ridiculous. That man was a fucking maniac, hanging off a goddamn ferris wheel like a fool. (Okay, I lied, the cursing is coming back.) He manipulated her into being with him, and then continued the manipulation with all of his stupid letters and saying shit like, “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.” Which is supposed to be a really romantic line, but sounds like some creep trying to possess a woman, like I could hear someone following me down a dark street cackling, “IF YOU’RE A BIRD, I’M A BIRD, MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAA. FLY FOR ME!!” Sorry, but I didn’t find that movie romantic, I found it bizarre. His character had some serious mental problems and didn’t understand the meaning of the word “no”. How is that romantic?

He looks like a farmer.

Ryan Gosling

“Time to plow the fields soon.”

Everyone says he’s so handsome, but I look at Ryan Gosling and I see a farmer, and I can’t really explain this. No offense to farmers, but I guess what I’m trying to say is he looks like a totally ordinary man to me. Like some dude who wandered into Hollywood from Iowa. No offense to people from Iowa. I’m just saying, he’s no big deal. But this is coming from someone who finds David Bowie to be the ultimate sex boat, so my tastes are decidedly different from most of America I guess. NO, I’m not saying I should get a medal for this, but if you want to send me one my address is:

1234 Fuck Ryan Gosling Way
Los Angeles, CA 90000

The memes stopped being funny ages ago.

The whole “Hey Girl” Ryan Gosling meme has been turned into a book, a coloring book, coffee mugs, Twitter/Instagram accounts, and T-shirts, and I’m sick of it. It wasn’t even that funny to begin with. What’s so funny about the idea of a man being sensitive and kind? “A man likes Pinterest? Hilarious!” No.

Anyway, I’m sorry if this comes off as very harsh, it’s just something that’s been building up inside of me for a long time. I will never understand the Ryan Gosling mania. People act like he’s the goddamn Beatles. He’s just a dude with a great job. But if you wanna continue to act like he’s sexy Jesus, go ahead, it’s your life. Just explain to me what the big deal is, because, like a cat trying to pin down his shadow, I’m not getting it.

The following men are more crushworthy than Ryan Gosling:

— Gregory Peck
— Paul McCartney
— Jarvis Cocker
— David Bowie
— Gaspard Ulliel

I mean, you can totally have a crush on all of these men and Ryan Gosling; that’s like saying just because you like Britney Spears means you can’t listen to indie rock. Not true. I’m just saying, in conclusion, I am terribly uncool and out of touch with my generation regarding this particular actor and his fandom, and I’m okay with that.

And seriously, fuck The Notebook.

Images via Zimbio.

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Summer Goals

summer goals

So, you wanna have the greatest summer ever? Why not set some summer goals? You know, little (or big) things (or thing) you want to accomplish over the summer. It will make your summer that much more rewarding, like a Hufflepuff getting house points!

My summer goal was to be a circus bear. Then I was told that is impossible, so I have revised my summer goal. My new summer goal is to be able to fit back into my “Betty Draper dress”, as seen here, a few years ago:



In 2005, my friend Kelly and I made summer goals. Her goal was to eat an entire pizza. Mine was to make out with the lead singer of Louis XIV. Remember them? They had that big song, “Finding Out True Love Is Blind.” The lead singer sounded like Mick Jagger, but didn’t look like him, so I assumed it would be an easy summer goal. Guess who completed their summer goal???? It was Kelly, obviously. The good thing about Kelly is she knew not to fly too close to the sun.

That’s important to keep in mind when making your summer goal. You want your goal to be attainable, otherwise, you’re going to be a very sad non-circus bear. Think about which category you want your goal to sit in: health, career, love, or personal growth. Maybe your summer goal is to read a new book every week. Maybe it’s to gather the courage to wear a bathing suit in public. Maybe it’s to tell your boss to go fuck himself. Hey, I don’t know, and I’m not going to judge. I want to help you reach your summer goal!

Every day do something that helps you get to your goal. If, like me, your goal is to fit into something you can’t wear anymore because YOU LACK DISCIPLINE, YOU STODGY JERK, then work out every day. If the goal is to tell the boss to fuck himself, then every day write down 5 creative ways to tell your boss to fuck himself. It’s actually very easy when you break it down!

What’s YOUR summer goal? Tell me in the comments, and I’ll try to help you achieve it!



Photo: Gordon Parks via LIFE Photo Archive for Google.

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Piano Man

Almie Rose

Billy Joel drawing by me. Incredible, isn’t it?

Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” has reached now legendary status, but it wasn’t always that way. My cousin and his fiancé told me a story about Billy Joel that I hope is true, because if it isn’t, it really ruins everything I’m about to write.

They said that Billy Joel was struggling with his record label. He hadn’t delivered what they wanted and they were ready to drop him. They gave him one last chance. “Come in tomorrow,” I imagine they said, “And play us whatever you got left.” That night, a young Mr. William Joel trudged home to Long Island, or wherever the hell he was living, and said to himself, “Billy? It’s time to shine.”

I imagine he sat down at his piano and thought very hard. “It’s time,” he said quietly. “It’s time I give them ‘The Piano Guy.'” (I like to imagine at that point, he hadn’t come up with the now title “Piano Man” but that he was working instead on “The Piano Guy”.)

The song is full of characters who are in dead-end job living sad lives. There’s Paul, a real estate novelist, who never had time for a wife. And he’s talking to Davy, who’s still in the navy, and probably will be for life. That’s heavy stuff for a pop song, Doc. I bet Joel had a talk with a bartender who told him, word-for-word, “Bill, I believe this is killing me. Well I’m sure that I could be a movie star if I could get out of this place.” And then the smile ran away from his face and won a MEDAL for its speed.

Anyway, Joel hammered out this song in one night. He had the bare bones, but it was time for the meat. They wanted a burger, he was going to give them a burger. The next morning he strolled in, with “The Piano Guy” in his head. No sheet music, no nothing — it was all in Casa de Joel en la Cabeza. “William,” I imagine his stuffy manager said. “We’re all in the mood for a melody. And you got us feeling alright.”

“Shit, that’s good,” Joel thought, as he mentally scribbled those lyrics in. “Much better than, ‘we’d like to hear a big fat song and you’ve got us feeling not wrong.'” He sat down at the piano, about to play.

“Uh…William?” his manager interrupted. “Billy, sir.” “Yes, Billy. Are you going to…show us, anything son? Sheet music? Lyrics? Can you tell us anything? How long this is?” “No,” Mr. Billy said, taking a drag of a cigarette that materialized out of nowhere. “I got this.”

And he puts on his sunglasses and starts to play. And keep in mind, it’s just him and some executives in a room. (This part is apparently true.) It’s just him, singing and playing for his life, with “Piano Man.” He’s fighting for his career with this one song. And it’s the song that becomes one of the most legendary songs of his career and of singer/songwriter history. “Piano Man” is actually one of my least favorite Joel songs; it’s so long and involved, it feels like I’m listening to a book on tape. But you can’t deny the power and endurability of “Piano Man.”

They couldn’t either. After Joel finished playing, the room was silent. Was this a good thing? He wasn’t sure. He takes off his sunglasses. “I guess you guys aren’t ready for that yet. But your kids are gonna love it.”

And their kids did love it. “Piano Man” was Billy Joel’s biggest hit ever and even inspired Bill Clinton to run for President of the United States of America (note: this is probably not true at all as I just made it up, but who knows?)

The point to ALL OF THIS is, Joel was on his last chance and he cranked out his biggest song. What if he gave up? And what if YOU gave up? What if you’re giving up your own “Piano Man”? Get my point here? We can’t give up, because we could be giving up our biggest success without even realizing it. That’s why we have to keep trying, we have to keep going, even when all we want to do is just crash our cars into trees in the Hamptons. We have to keep moving. We have to keep singing our song. We don’t stop until we have our “Piano Man” and then we just keep on flying. Please follow my advice to get to your own “River Of Dreams” and I know you may think I don’t know what I’m talking about, and “You May Be Right” but do it anyway as a “A Matter of Trust” and take my advice even though I’m just “The Stranger” with a weird blog.


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Just Some Things To Think About On Your Next Date

pin up 1940's

What if your date brings a lamb? Or eats a lamb? Or is a lamb? What then?

What if you ordered something really delicious and your date ordering something very average and you feel bad for them but at the same time you’re just full of disgust and annoyance, because why the hell would you order anything but melted cheese on top of something?

What if you were on a dinner date and suddenly someone came up to you and said, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, MICHAEL BUBLE!!!” and Michael Buble was behind you playing a piano and you were like, oh this is cool, and then you go to a bar after your date and then the same person comes up to you and says, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, MICHAEL BUBLE!!!” and Michael Buble was behind you playing a piano AGAIN? I think that would be too much. Am I wrong?

And then let’s say you’re at this bar, and Michael Buble is playing, but you don’t really care about his music, but your date does. Which one do you ignore? Michael Buble or your date?

What if you just don’t fucking feel like putting the accent on the “e” in Michael Buble’s last name?

What if you never find the person who wants to do happy hour with you? What if you invite them to happy hour and they say yes, but they don’t believe that happy hour starts at 3 PM? What if they think it doesn’t start until 5? Or 6? What the hell will you do then? Are you even thinking about stuff like this? You should be.


“American Cyanamid, Girl & Lamb” by Nickolas Muray from George Eastman House Collection via Flickr.


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