Category Archives: nostalgia


almie rose child actor apocalypstick

My nana still keeps my childhood headshot framed in her room. Solidarity.

I have no regrets. Sometimes I need to constantly remind myself of this, because it’s easily to slip into that terrifying moment of, “Oh shit, I’ve ruined my entire life with that one decision.” And that’s ridiculous and I know that. I need to feel good about my decisions, and if I made one I didn’t like, I have to say, “Ob la di ob la da, life goes on” and not worry about. That’s how I want to do things.

For a while though, I did have one regret. I thought about what I would do if I had the chance to do it over. I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t quit acting at six years old.

I was a fairly successful child actor. Not famous by any means. But I did some commercials that paid very well. National commercials pay very well, you’d be surprised. My big hit was a commercial for Clarion liquid makeup. No, it was not makeup for children. This was one of those artsy commercials. It was shot in black and white, in a deserted street, with a model walking down it. Then it cut to me standing against a wall. I think I was standing next to a little boy. Cut to the model. Cut to a slow close up of my face. Boom. Clarion liquid makeup.

Those few seconds of standing against a wall set me for most of my life. The shoot was very long, so long that I was late to my own birthday party. But so worth it.

I loved acting. My entire life I thought I would be an actor. I went to a lot of auditions. But apparently one day, I threw a fit, and I told my mom I had enough. I don’t remember this. I have a pretty good memory of that time. I remember I was a total dick in an audition because I wanted to play with my friend Katie and didn’t want to be there. My mom was the total opposite of a stage mom, so as soon as I told her I wanted to stop she jumped away, hands in the air, saying, “Okay! No problem, we’re done.”

I don’t know why I did that. I was a kid. Kids are stupid. Kids don’t think in the long run. I need to be easier on myself. But I was on a roll. I got cast in a sitcom starring the mom from “Home Improvement” and some famous dude. Then that show fell apart when the mom from “Home Improvement” decided to do “Home Improvement.” Bitch.

Though I stopped acting professionally, I kept doing it. I was in every high school play. I wrote my own plays in elementary school, high school, and college. I went to acting classes and casting workshops. I loved acting. But I couldn’t catch a break. “I’m born and raised here, shouldn’t it be way easier for me to get into this industry?” I always wondered. But connections fall through. I would kill it at an auditon only to be told, “We need a name, but you were great.” I got meeting with agents who said things like, “Come back to us when you’ve done more work” (how the fuck am I supposed to get more work without an agent?) and one who told me, “The bridge of your nose is very straight and narrow, I would think about that.” I thought about it and determined that she was an asshole.

One day I came to a conclusion. I could struggle to get auditions for shitty projects that two casting directors in a room would see, or I could make my own videos my own way that thousands would see. It was an easy choice. Fuck the industry. All you actors out there, I encourage you to do this your way. Keep going to auditions if you want to, but do your own thing. Use the internet to your advantage. We’re lucky to be in this era. The internet is your friend.

Every once in a while I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn’t quit when I was six. Would I be a famous actor now or a has-been? Or none of the above? Things are working out for me pretty well, but every now and then I feel a pang of jealousy when I see “my type” getting roles that I could have gotten. That episode of “Mad Men” where Megan explained to Don why she had to quit her successful job to peruse her dream of acting really got to the heart of me. I understand, Megan. I understand.

What would you do-over if you could?


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I was compensated for this post as a member of Clever Girls Collective. All the opinions expressed here are my own.


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Whatever happened to the teenage dream?

justin bieber wrapping paper

I mean this is what instagram was made for, right?

Why did I hate being a teenager so much? Being a teenager is awesome. Nothing you do matters. Nothing. Teenagers, I’m not trying to put you down; on the contrary. I’m trying to empower you. Don’t you realize how awesome it is when nothing you do matters? You can do anything. Anything! Go to school, don’t fuck up your grades, and then do whatever the hell you want. Stay out late on a school night. Wear something stupid. Be ignorant. Don’t try to be an adult. Being an adult kind of sucks, I’m gonna be real. There are a lot of great things about my life, like I get to legally drink (even though I still get carded which is both flattering and extremely embarrassing), I don’t have to tell my parents what I’m doing all the time, and I can basically say, “Fuck this shit, I’m an adult!”

Now here are the downsides: as an adult, drinking takes a harder toll on my body, I actually miss my parents telling me what to do because now I have to make those decisions for myself, and if I say, “Fuck this shit, I’m an adult!” I have to deal with the consequences, good or bad. And guys, my knees hurt. I’m in my twenties, not even my late twenties, and my fucking knees hurt after a workout. Which reminds me, does anyone have a good workout DVD/whatever other than The 30 Day Shred? Because The Shred works but it kills my knees every time. And as vain as I am, I don’t think it’s worth it. So yeah, your stupid knees hurt and you have to find a job and keep it because you have to pay for boring shit like bills, and sometimes you cry in the corner of the shower thinking, “LOLOLOLOL” in your brain. Because being an adult can be absurd.

I didn’t appreciate being a teenager because as a teenager I felt ugly, hated that I looked so young, and wished I didn’t have to go to school. Those were my problems. Those aren’t problems. Those are, “Shut up you’re not ugly, one day you will LOVE being told you look young, and get your shitty body to school you idiot it’s a lot easier than real life.”

Teenagers: have some fucking fun. I mean it. If not for you, then for Uncle Almie.


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Please Dress Me.

almie rose bonnie and clydeThis right here is my uniform. Red lipstick, lots of black, and this Serge Gainsbourg & Jane Birkin tee when I’m not wearing a black dress.

Today I start a new job in fashion Exciting! I have no idea how I stumbled into the world of fashion (I also write for Genlux Magazine), it just kind of happened, and I love it. But I have a confession. Lately, I’ve sort of given up on my style. “I don’t know how to dress anymore,” I told my mom. Expecting her to say, “Oh of course you do,” she instead said, “Yeah you’re not really trying anymore.” Yikes. Let’s take a magical tour through my fashion history, shall we? (This post contains lots of photos so if your computer is slow, lollolol). Oh and

What is your daily uniform? What’s your favorite style, your favorite looks, your favorite fashion inspiration? And do you have any suggestions for me?

Continue reading


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What I Did On My Summer Vacation.

Words cannot describe how much I love this photo.

If you’re following me on twitter or are friends with me on Facebook you are probably more than aware that I was in Las Vegas last weekend. Why is this such a big deal to me? Because I went to a conference where I didn’t really “know” anyone. I’ve been friends with them online and the one person I’d met in person couldn’t be there (THANKS JAMIE. J/K GURL.) The old Almie would have backed the eff out like, “a Tonka Truck” to quote J.Lo’s masterpiece “On The Floor.” The new Almie had a moment of hesitation, thought about purposefully catching strep throat, then realized, Holy Godzilla this could be the most fun EVER. And it was. Continue reading


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Happy 2nd Blogiversary.

Two years ago today I started this blog. This was the first post. Yeah.

I just want everyone to know that before I switched from blogspot to wordpress, I had lots of comments on my old posts. I’m telling you this so that you know I was popular and won’t feel sorry for me. Also I want you to know I didn’t purposefully delete your comments. I never delete comments. I’ve gotten such great, insightful, and weird funny comments from you guys over the years and I cherish them. Even the mean ones, of which there haven’t been many, so thank you.

To thank everyone for sticking with me and continuing to read, I made y’all a mix “tape.” It’s not a tape. Obviously. You can download it onto your computer and then play it as you hold up a tape recorder and press record. I did that once. Got a great police siren in the background. Really added something to Aretha Franklin’s “Respect.” Anyway. It’s called “I Think I’m Having A Good Time.” It’s like those times where you’re at a party and you’re with your friends and you know you look good but you’re wondering if deep inside something is missing because you love pop music of the 60s and 90s but you’re not dancing just yet and you’re trying to figure out why.


1. Come See About Me — Diana Ross & The Supremes
2. And She Was — Talking Heads
3. Ca Plane Pour Moi — Plastic Bertrand
4. Donne Moi Ton Amour (Gimme Some Lovin’) — Sylvie Vartan
5. I Dig Everything — David Bowie
6. All Together Now — The Beatles
7. Nights On Broadway — Bee Gees
8. It’s The Little Things — Sonny & Cher
9. Sex And Candy — Marcy Playground
10. It Don’t Come Easy — Ringo Starr
11. These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ — Amanda Lear
12. Sweet Talkin’ Candy Man — The Carrie Nations (Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls)
13. What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted — Diana Ross & The Supremes

download I Think I’m Having A Good Time

I think I did it right, but if it doesn’t download properly, LET ME KNOW. PLEASE.

Much love for Emily who made the cover art. She’s super talented and you should read her blog here and follow her here.


We’ve had some good times. Do you have a favorite post? If so, please tell me. I love your feedback. Unless it’s hateful, then go fuck yourself. Have a fun weekend!!!!! xx


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Old Years.

A lot of people hate New Year’s Eve. They say that it never lives up to the hype and that it always sucks. If it sucks, it’s basically because you’re setting it up to suck. All you have to do on NYE is have fun. That’s it. You don’t need to complain about crowds, traffic, or how it’s always a let down. Just put on your party dress and have fun. Even if all you’re doing is sitting at home having your own BH 90210 marathon, the same rules apply: just have fun. “Oh who cares, it’s just another night” you say. SO WHO CARES, JUST MAKE IT FUN. P.S. Fun.

Remember Y2K? Did you and your brother also run to the computer after midnight to make sure it was still working/hadn’t blown up/was not haunted? I remember my family threw a party and my mom bought pink tiaras boldly proclaiming “2000!” for me and my friend Michelle. My outfit was regrettable. I had braces. But so did everyone. And most importantly, the computer clock flipped from 12/31/99 to 1/1/00 and no one died.

When I was younger it was a big deal to do something on New Year’s. My mom and dad would sometimes go out and I was allowed to invite a friend to sleep over. But evidently NYE was a big thing for other peoples’ parents because my friends could never come over. But one year my friend Jessica did. We stayed up late, watched the Big Gay Al episode of South Park (that was a big deal, I was “too young” to watch South Park) and then we decided to call a psychic hotline to get some great tips about the upcoming year. We wound up spending $99.oo, which to me at the time seemed like an astronomical amount of money. My mom supported this theory by placing the bill on my desk with the amount circled and an angry “ALMIE!!!!!” scrawled next to it for emphasis.

The year I had my first “serious” boyfriend he flew in to spend New Year’s with me. My friend had a 1920s themed party so he wore a vest and a tie. My friend said he looked like the valet. It was still better than the party I went to of my first “boyfriend”‘s (different from the other quoted boyfriend) who saw me and basically had the attitude of, “You taste like a burger I don’t like you anymore.” We’re friends now though.

Part of the problem with the inevitable NYE letdown is that somehow this holiday turned into the Adult Swim of holidays. Someone convinced us that if you don’t show up to a party with a date and you don’t kiss at 2 seconds to midnight and you don’t spend the rest of the evening making passionate slow motion love to George Michael’s Careless Whisper then you have failed at having a good year. It’s not true. You don’t need a date on New Year’s Eve. Seriously. I give you permission to spend the night with your friends or by yourself or with your cat as long as you feel good about it! Don’t set yourself up for sad times. Set yourself up for fun times. It’s easier. All you have to do is be open.

So come on, you can tell me: what are you doing for NYE?

Never Forget You — The Noisettes


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Rainy Days In Manhattan.


It is pouring rain in Los Angeles. It’s raining so hard I got off of work early. Oh, LA!

Rainy days make me nostalgic for New York. Something about rain always makes me think of when I lived in NYC, by which I mean Manhattan, the “real” New York. Yes, I am a snob and an asshole. I don’t care that Brooklyn is something like 4 times the size of Manhattan; it is not the “real” New York and I think someone should burn the whole thing down. It’s just too annoying. And, OK, it’s filled with people who have broken my heart. But that’s not important right now.

I loved sitting in my little studio apartment gazing out the window like I was Holly Golightly. Except my window gazed into other windows. My view was of the rest of the building. But I didn’t care. It could have been worse. I could have had to stare at Jude Law preparing breakfast. Heaven forfend.

On rainy days I would never use an umbrella. “I live in New York now,” I thought. “This is what we do. We’re a tough people. Umbrellas are for West Coasters. I can’t give away my secret.” I loved hearing the sound of cars go by on the wet streets. I loved ducking into Starbucks for my iced latte (I never drank lattes hot, I would get too warm walking down the city streets in my coat, and this habit of drinking only iced latttes has stuck with me) or the movie theaters in Union Square or the one off 20th street and Broadway, where I saw “Saw 2”, and afterwards commented to my date that I thought it was “S’awful” which was the personal highlight of my evening because I am an egomaniac who loves making lame jokes.

Sometimes I would go into the Barnes & Noble in Union Square and waste time there. Once I ducked in to pick up a copy of American Psycho. The place was packed. I could barely get through. Apparently some politician was there to speak. “Asshole,” I thought. “I just want American Psycho.” I picked up my book and decided to stick around, since the fiction section happened to be near the speaking area. The speaker was Barack Obama. I wish I could remember something poignant about that moment, or that I could have taken away something powerful from his speech so that I could say now, “I saw Obama a couple of years ago and even then I could feel the power of his destiny” but all I can remember him saying is something about Spongebob Squarepants. Seriously.

I loved walking to school from my apartment, as I lived two blocks down and one avenue over. During class while I would listen to the hipsterest hipsters in all of hipsterville ramble about things like Aristotle’s teachings as depicted in Blade Runner and then I would head back to my apartment, tucked in away from the rain, watching the 5:00 rerun of Gilmore Girls. Then Rory went to college and I didn’t care anymore.

I think I get nostalgic for eras I was never around for, if that’s possible. I long to live in 1950s New York, going to The Actor’s Studio with James, Marlon, and Marilyn. When I was in college I went to The Actor’s Studio to watch Rosie O’Donnell, but that’s not quite the same. I did however see Elton John perform, which was awesome, and Michael J. Fox do his show which was the best. Not long after, back in LA, I met Michael J. Fox then got into my car, called my mom, and screamed with joy. She didn’t hear the joy and thought I was bleeding internally. That was a good day.

I wish I lived in 1960s Andy Warhol New York. I wish I lived in 1970s New York. All of it. From the early Woody Allen days to the Punk Rock CBGB Patti Smith and Blondie years. And maybe in the early 80s so I could see Madonna before she turned into a weird impression of herself.

I’ll probably live in New York again at some point but it will never be what I wish it was. I guess that’s true of everything though. Except for The Oprah Winfrey Show. Today’s episode is about Texting and Driving: America’s New Deadly Obsession and I don’t think I could wish for anything better.

New York U.S.A. — Serge Gainsbourg (An obvious song choice but too good not to share.)


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