Out with the old.

The holidays have arrived, and basketball is returning just in time for Christmas. While I am thankful that the NBA and its players have kissed and made up, I am still waiting patiently for baseball to kick up in February. I look forward to spending long weekends in Arizona watching my favorite teams get ready for a new season of freshness.

The Dodgers can look forward to new ownership and management, and hopefully the acquisition of some young and outstanding players. With the McCourts being forced out of the picture, hopefully the team can heal and re-establish its greatness within the league. I feel like 2012 could be a year to remember for the boys in blue.

Until all of my sports interests regenerate, I might be a little quiet. Football has been mostly disappointing to me this year, and I am hanging on for sports to come alive again in 2012.

For now, stay tuned for other things that interest me, like FOOD and MUSIC in my other blog.

Thanks for reading. Love, Kristin.

Postseason love.

With the Dodgers and the Red Sox completely out of the shuffle this year, I thought I would find myself disinterested and straight on to football. To my very pleasant surprise, I have been delighted in watching postseason baseball. It's the year of the underdog. Anyone who loves sports (and is not a Yankees fan) has a soft spot somewhere for the underdog.

Detroit just defeated the Yankees in their ALDS series. The St. Louis Cardinals beat the Phillies. I am hoping for a Milwaukee Brewers win tomorrow. Texas....don't mess with Texas. I actually hate Texas. In its entirety.


As off base as this may sound, I hope for some off the wall World Series. Let's see the Detroit Tigers face the Milwaukee Brewers. Why? Because the likelihood of it ever happening again is slim to none. At least in my life time.

I am tired of watching the Yankees, Red Sox, Cubs and Phillies battle it out year after year after year in the post season. I get it. You have money for excellent payroll, a longstanding history of being in the top teams in the MLB, and fans that will riot in your streets when you lose. Or worse, go hang themselves from a tree in their backyard.

I love baseball, but it's just baseball. Your team can't always win. You can't always be good. Try being a Dodgers fan. It's heartbreak after heartbreak. You get used to it. Share the wealth, the wins, and the love. It's America's game, not New York's game.

So, here's to the underdog. All of them battling it out this post season. I'm still watching.

Justice has been served.

For the past ten years or so, I have followed the cases of the West Memphis Three, doing what I could with some financial donations here and there. I read books, watched documentaries, and regularly checked in on their website for updates regarding each of these wrongly accused boys. Occasionally their story would make a national headline, only to get swallowed up by the shadow of some political drama or natural disaster.

In all this time, my frustrations grew with our legal system and the ignorance that so many people have toward those that are slightly different. None of the evidence ever matched up for me, even when I tried to play the devil's advocate and look at these guys as guilty murderers. I watched portions of their original trials, where these so-called freaks were put up in front of the community to set an example: if you are different than the rest of us, you are a bad person. The clothes you wear, the strange haircut, the loud music coming from your room...it makes you a bad person. 

A poet and his best friends who liked to wear dark clothing and hang out in cemeteries were morphed from quiet and creative types to vicious murderers in a court room. There was no motive present in any of their cases. There was never proper physical evidence. There was a make believe cult and harsh discrimination. 

In a way, I empathized with these boys who turned into men behind bars. As we grow into ourselves, we change and develop our own sense of self. During that metamorphosis sometimes comes criticism and judgement. Almost everyone has been there at some point in their lives. I sometimes feel it when I walk into my relatively conservative office every morning. Unlike me simply cringing at the sight of certain people that are probably thinking awful things at the sight of me in the hall, these guys had to sit there and take a verbal beating for the murder of three children that they did not commit. So much so that they were convinced that admitting defeat at the very beginning would save them some time behind bars and maybe get them out sooner. 

Instead they were played for fools and received the harshest sentencing possible. Their supposed ring leader was sentenced to death, the other two received life in prison without the possibility of parole. 

Flash forward to present day. The persistence of those who truly believed that these boys were purely used as a scapegoat to protect the real devil in this case has finally triumphed. Unfortunately, three kids had to spend nearly twenty years behind bars for something they could have never imagined doing. But today, they got what they deserved. Freedom. Freedom to be themselves in the outside world.

Tonight, I will rejoice in their victory, as I kind of feel like it is a win for all of us who choose to set ourselves apart from the norm in our own way.

Cheers to the wonderful organization Free The West Memphis 3, all of the hard working staff and attorneys who poured everything they had into this case and never giving up, and the celebrities who used their names to gain recognition and raise funds for these boys.  More than anything though, cheers to every single person who took the time to educate themselves on the case and maybe even share it with someone else. Had the world never heard of the West Memphis 3, there would be three other lives lost in this tragedy. 

Congratulations, Damien Echols, Jesse Misskelley and Jason Baldwin. I hope tonight is the best night of your life. 

Right here, always.

When people say that your life can change in an instant, they are not kidding. Until recently, I never really had an experience that caused me to step back and try to evaluate the situation as an outsider. What am I doing? Where am I going? Am I even sure of what I think the answers are to those questions?

Not really.

But what I do know is that I am not living a pipe dream. I have the most incredible inspiration from those that I surround myself with. My family, my friends, my clients. These people keep me in the moment and take my breath away constantly. The ball is always rolling. 

I was feeling a lull in the music that I have been encountering for so long, when I was enraptured by the live performance of a new friend/client/whatever you call him. It amazes me that some of the things we are force fed by popular media are so well-liked and people like this person go unnoticed for years until the industry buzz encircles them happen chance. People that give me goosebumps. People that fill an arena with their voice and acoustic guitar. People that say things I have always felt, but just never possessed the eloquence to articulate in words. 

They still exist. The music industry is not dead. But we are going to need to fight for it. 

That being said. Here is someone that I am so blessed to be working with. One of the few that reminds me of why I have been involved in this thing we call the music business since I could remember.

NBA players take the power position.

To the pleasure of most Americans, the NFL Commissioner and NFL Players Association finally came to an agreement to end the lockout in time to save their $9 billion season from nonexistence. I would safely say that I never lost any sleep over this lockout. There are no other countries in the world that are going to try and start an American-style football league that whisks away all of our superstar pigskin jockeys. The NFL is also a huge economic contributor in many major cities across the country, and locales would indeed have gotten involved had the league not picked something up to fill those months of empty stadiums and equally empty sports bars.

On the contrary, I have been closely following the NBA lockout from the inside out. Players that I work with are filing for COBRA insurance coverage, their NBA sponsored 401(k) plans are rolling over, and the paychecks stopped rolling in months ago. While I am sure NFL players experienced the same sort of job termination rituals, NFL players were not packing up and accepting paychecks overseas. They were starting record labels, banging supermodels, and driving lifted trucks.

From Turkey to Spain to the Philippines, professional basketball players are definitely flirting with the idea of a steady paycheck once again--no matter where it takes them. With some of these players being massively popular stars here in the states, the offers they are getting in other countries are quite handsome. And face it, at the end of the day, money talks.

The NBA should be careful to not lose their all-stars to these young foreign leagues. New Jersey Nets guard Deron Williams already signed a $5 million deal with a team in Turkey. Dwight Howard talked to the associated press last week about packing up and heading to China or somewhere else in Europe. It has been rumored that some other high-dollar ballers have been in negotiations to make similar moves. Losing key players will absolutely damage the NBA's fan base as followers of some of the league's favorite players will indeed turn their sights to their star's new team, wherever that may be.

It's basically the equivalent of throwing hundred dollar bills out of a car window while going 100mph on Interstate 5. Or just burning the mint down.

Shape up, or watch your players ship out.

I'm on a world tour.

It seems like it has been a wild couple of weeks in my life, and it seems the sports world has been following suit. Ron Artest is changing his name to Metta World Peace, the Dodgers are filing for bankruptcy, and I gained a new found love for Nascar in a place I never thought I would...Hawaii. Who knew?

I was lucky enough to spend a few days on the North Shore of Oahu with some incredible people a couple of weeks ago. I watched Rory McIlroy win the US Open with a record setting 16 under par game. I got taken out by the waves at Pipeline. I jumped off of a really big rock into a bay (sounds petty to you, but I am terrified of anything higher than five feet off the ground). And most importantly, I learned a lot about Nascar. I learned about the rivalries, the stats, the fans. I left Hawaii with a lot of photos and a lot of cars driving in circles in my head. More to come on this.

Following my amazing weekend in the Pacific, I trekked up to Northern California to spend more time with a special person and some amazing family. I flew into Sacramento, drove up to Roseville, and then rode on the back of a Harley up to Lake Tahoe. What a trip. I had no clue I would sit on the back of a motorcycle without feeling like I might die every five seconds let alone absolutely love it. There is something so serene and zen in sitting there taking in your surroundings with the fresh air swirling around your entire body. There is an evolution happening here. I like it.

Now that I am back in Los Angeles and back to work, I have some time to get in some LA athletics. There might be some Dodgers this weekend, maybe even the Seattle Sounders/LA Galaxy game. We will see which stadium takes me in. I'm happy to be home, but longing for the mountains like I long for a rainy Sunday spent on the couch listening to my favorite records.

Mic check. 1-2, 1-2.

(image courtesy of thegrio.com)

Sometimes I think that all-star athletes forgot that most professional musicians became such because they couldn't play sports. Sure, there are exceptions to that rule, but I am confident in saying that Julian Casablancas never played football. Matt Bellamy may have played tennis at some point in high school, but he looks more like he had two friends and they spent a lot of time playing guitar in a dark basement. Do not misinterpret these words. They are two of my favorite musicians. 

I find that I have to cock an eyebrow at those who suddenly cross over into music like it is some inevitable path their career must take. Gwenyth Paltrow can act just fine. She...yeah, she can act just fine. Her performance at the Oscars was pitiful. Kim Kardashian...I'm still not sure what she does, but whoever told her that she should make a record should be shot. Last night I even found out that Kevin Costner has a record out. Albeit, it's not that bad...but really?

My absolute favorite [insert sarcasm here] is when the athletes traverse into the wonderful world of entertainment. Shaq Diesel!! Barry Zito's Boy Next Door! Allen Iverson aka JewelZ!! Kobe Bryant's Visions with some song featuring the ever so lovely Tyra Banks (yet another reason, or ten, to dislike him). 

When I read today that Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers was starting a record label, I almost spit out my coffee. WHAT THE HELL IS HE GOING TO DO WITH A RECORD LABEL? I mean, really? Come on. Major labels that have been around for decades haven't even figured out a way to stay profitable in the digital age. Make like a good boy and stick to throwing around the pig skin. You're good at it and it actually makes money. Contrary to popular belief, that does not grow on trees nor does it last forever. 

End note: music might be profitable if someone put out a good record in recent days. Even Ben Gibbard can't choke out a good album anymore. He needs to get cheated on, divorced, take alcohol back up and put on a few pounds. Sorry Ben, I love you, and I am saying this with your best intentions in mind. Sometimes the truth is hard. 

End end note: athletes will always make more than musicians. Trust me. I know.

Papelbonding.

Jonathan Papelbon is one of my favorite baseball players. Forget that his career ERA is 2.35. Or that he fed his bulldog the ball that won the 2007 World Series.

Let's talk about this guy's RAGE. He clearly likes to party. Look at him.

I was beside myself when I learned that he was actually going to be suspended for three games for giving an old umpire a sweet chest bump during last week's game against the Oakland Athletics. Something must have been wrong for the A's to actually score enough runs to contend with the Red Sox in the first place, so I understand his frustration.

The only loyalty I have to the A's is that I used to ditch class in high school to go sit out in the $11 bleacher seats with my best friend during the occasional mid-week day game (sorry mom). No one really cares about the A's.

According to some news outlets, the MLB has also fined him an undisclosed amount for his reaction to blowing their 4-run lead in the same game.

I think someone just forgot to eat their scooby snacks that morning. Leave my Jonny Boy alone! He doesn't work well under pressure.

Perfect Human Specimen.

I recently had a request for more material...from a fan. Okay, a friend...same thing. I think. Anyway...

It has been an interesting few months for me. I enjoyed watching the Lakers choke themselves to an embarrassing death, I have only been to one Dodgers game (I know!), my cat died (RIP), I had a birthday, my boyfriend dumped me and I lost my best friend.

However, all is not lost. I also started at a new firm in a higher position, so my career is on the up.
I have been working with some amazing artists and athletes, I have fantastic summer plans, and my mom is coming this weekend! Nothing like a visit from mom to pick me up after a rough couple of weeks.

I also got the news that one of my old roommates is coming into town over the 4th of July weekend to watch the Seattle Sounders play the Los Angeles Galaxy. I tend to stay away from American soccer, but I will not pass up the chance to go see David Beckham run around before my very eyes. I also get to spend time with a life long friend who does not drink and will therefore drive the rest of us to and from the game safely as we consume copious amounts of beer all day.

David Beckham...the perfect specimen. That body deserving of a marble statue in a courtyard. Those eyes the color of arctic ice. That tan...can't be real. I still can not comprehend why he is married to an alien that has not eaten since the Spice Girls had a hit, which I believe was in 1996. Someone get that girl a double-double!

I would picture Becks to be with someone of true beauty and sex appeal. A woman who is just that: a woman. A woman like Christina Hendricks. She is a real woman. Maybe a goddess. [Insert long pause for thoughts of Christina.] Le sigh...there are some things I will never understand. Men are one of them. They love us, they can't live without us, they can't live with us, and then they leave us for some uneducated bimbo who answers telephones for $10 an hour.

I'm not bitter! Love is just one of the few games that I don't get.

So, back to the locker room. That's where I really belong. Get your mind out of the gutter. I'm wearing clothes!

The Lakers take a beating.

Sometimes I waver with religious my beliefs, however, I think that karma always finds its way in the end. The report of Kobe Bryant exiting the arena after being defeated 104-99 by the worst team in the NBA, the Cleveland Cavaliers, without saying a single word, really made me all warm and fuzzy inside.

Like, hey, you aren't the best in the world. At least not anymore. And it looks like your downfall is going to make me feel as your uprising did you.

Note: the Celtics are still killing it. Per usual. Damn the Heat, but #2 ain't bad. For now.

Being a Los Angeles native, I am really supposed to idolize this team as any other wildly retarded Angeleno would. Really. I really should. But I look at Kobe Bryant with so much disdain that I want to close my eyes and visualize Brooklyn Decker in a yellow bikini. Don't get me wrong. I don't hate Kobe as some sort of feminist. I don't look at him [every time] and think, that damn rapist. I really don't.

I look at him and think, that cocky mother f-er has to fall off of his pedestal and realize that he is just another human being at some point in time.

Oh, that time is now. Feels good, don't it?

Goin', goin'. Back, back...

  

                  

The Los Angeles Dodgers announced that they will wear throwback getups for six games this season. You can go vote for your favorite at www.dodgers.com/throwback. 

I went ahead and voted for the 1911 road uniform (pictured top). It looks to be the least metro sexual of them all. The whole frilly B thing and the baby blue really don't do it for me. I know that baseball is sometimes looked at as the wimpiest sport aside from figure skating or curling...I'm still trying to figure out how either of those became known as 'sports.' Regardless, men in tight pants should still have the option to look masculine if they so desire. I based my vote on that assumed desire. Plus pinstripes are super sexy.

The other two outfits are the 1931 road uniform (center) and the 1940 home uniform (bottom). You should not vote for those. Unless you're gay. In that case, you don't fall into my assumed desire category. I totally appreciate your personal choices. I like dudes too.

So, get your ass over to the dodgers site and vote. You have until February 17th. That's coming faster than you think.

So is spring training!

(images courtesy of dodgers.com)

Post-Superbowl blues.

So, football season has come and gone, leaving our Sundays wide open for activities that don't involve staying in pajamas all day, eating greasy food, and drinking beer at 10am. I might get back on the hill and do some canyon hikes, get some sunshine, or maybe I'll just sleep all day. Regardless, I have a few things that take me through basketball season into my favorite time of year: baseball season.

We all saw the atrocity that was the Super Bowl halftime show. Wow. Aside from following some of the greatest acts ever, like Prince, Tom Petty, The Boss, and...Prince, the Black Eyed Peas had their work cut out for them. 150,000 rednecks don't really care about pop songs performed by two black men, a recovering crack addict, and the token asian friend dressed in sparkly space suits. I think Axl Rose cut himself somewhere when Fergie attempted to duplicate his...accent...if you can call it that.

Anyway, let's congratulate the Green Bay Packers on their big win. Supposedly over half of Green Bay went to Lambeau Field to party. Sadly, their stadium can actually fit half of the city. Maybe more than half. Oh, Wisconsin...

Basketball isn't proving to be very exciting this year either. We have Boston leading the Eastern conference (shocker), and the Lakers barely trailing the Spurs in the West. In good news, the Lakers might be on their last leg of championship games knowing that their beloved coach is leaving the team to go swim in his vault of purple and gold coins for all of eternity.

While that is boring me to tears, I find more enjoyment in music. Some of my top songs to get me through the next few weeks are...

1. Everest - Let Go
2. The Decemberists - The Calamity Song
3. We Are Scientists - After Hours
4. Neon Trees - 1983
5. Nicki Minaj - Fly
6. One Republic - All the Right Moves
7. Marina & The Diamonds - Hollywood
8. Adele - Rollin' in the Deep
9. Michael Lowman - In My Own Words
10. LCD Soundsystem - Drunk Girls
11. The Radio Dept. - Heaven's On Fire
12. Lucy Schwartz - Take a Picture
13. In This Moment - Iron Army
14. Blindside - Pitiful
15. Carina Round - Do You

Let those wet your earholes for a few days. You won't be disappointed.

The Steelers know how to party!

(photo courtesy of NYdailynews.com)

So, it's super bowl week and your team just landed in Dallas in preparation for the big game. Training is probably a good idea. Followed by some good rest. Maybe even a quick break to call your wife. 

NAHHHHHHHHHH....

According to Dallas news reporter Gromer Jeffers Jr. (who was also obviously at the strip club), Pittsburgh Steelers players Hinds Ward, Ike Taylor, and some other black and yellow sporting comrades spent their first night in town at a gentleman's club on Northwest Highway in Dallas (I don't really know Dallas, so if you know where they might have been, I would like that piece of knowledge). 

The players spent most of their evening in the VIP, but then moved to the front row for some shows before hopping on the stage themselves! They undress in a room full of men several times a week, so this comes at little surprise to me. Witnesses in the club report that the players were having a killer time and drinking Moet straight from the bottle. 

Holler!

It's going to be awfully difficult to play professional football in front 106 million viewers with a hangover. I'm okay with that.

Antonio Cromartie is a s*%! talking mother f@&%$#r!

(image courtesy of FTRsports.com)

The Jets sure know how to stir up a shit storm, don't they? We've got Braylon Edwards driving around twice as drunk as he's legally entitled. Rex Ryan is off in a corner sucking on innocent women's toes. And Antonio Cromartie is just running his mouth all over the place.

First of all, you guys make a ton of money. Why are you driving around drunk? It's not like you can't afford a cab ride home. Dumbass.

Rex, oh Rex. To each their own.

New York Jets cornerback Antonio Cromartie has had some choice words on his opponents and some union officials over the past couple of weeks. After publicly titling New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady 'an asshole,' amongst other things, he is back at it. This time firing at the heads of NFL and 

the labor union that is supposed to protect the players.

Apparently they need to 'get their damn minds' and 'their shit together.'

Granted, the interviewer did start inquiring about Cromartie's opinion on the labor talks immediately following their embarassing loss to the Pittsburgh Steelers on Sunday. I think it is safe to say that one wouldn't necessarily convey the right emotion while slamming locker doors during an interview.

While I know Rex Ryan couldn't care less about Cromartie's word vomit problem, we'll see what the league has to say about his commentary.

Super Bowl XLV

So, The Jets choked once again. They just really couldn't pull it together at all. I could have walked away from the game entirely after realizing that the Steelers had possession of the ball for the first nine or ten minutes of the game. By halftime the game was pretty much over. The Jets tried to rally in the second half, but couldn't cut the mustard, ending the game at a 24-19 loss.

I think Rex Ryan just put a foot in his mouth somewhere.

With that, I am no longer truly excited about either team winning the game, but I am truly excited about coming up with my Super Bowl party menu! What is a Super Bowl without gorging yourself with some of the most unhealthy goodies and lots and lots of beer?

Here's what my household has to look forward to:

• Chicken wings with Frank's hot sauce. It really is the best. I learned that from dad.
• Chipotle pot roast enchiladas. Complete with home made enchilada sauce.
• Black beans.
• Beef franks in blankets. Because pork has been recently outlawed in my social circle.
• Blueberry dump cake. If you really want to know, just ask. It's to die for, and takes 15 minutes to make. Even my brother could make this cake.
• Beer. American micro brews to be exact.
• Mimosas. Because champagne makes for good day time drinking.
• Hummus and veggies. Because you have to have something redeeming on the table.

Good luck to the teams that prevailed in today's games, and I will see you on the couch! Don't forget the wet naps.

The FIFA World Cup.

I forgot to tell you all about how I spent the FIFA World Cup.

Drunk with my best friend from South Africa. It was awesome. There aren't many things that are more awesome than drinking Stella and eating chocolate cake that I decorated like a South African flag at 7am.

Photographic evidence of my fuzzy memories of spending the World Cup with someone who legitimately calls soccer 'football.'

Papelbon & Ellsbury keep their red socks.

Apparently it only takes $12M to keep one of the most colorful pitchers in baseball on your roster. The Boston Red Sox signed a one year deal with pitcher Jonathan Papelbon, who is somewhat famous for letting his dog eat the ball that brought home the 2007 World Series win for the Sox. He can now be famous for receiving the highest paying one year contract for an arbitration eligible pitcher, and the fourth highest overall. While Papelbon had his crappiest season yet at Fenway, word has it that he has been throwing balls around in dog parks, and is looking to bring a stronger arm to the 2011 season.

Center fielder Jacoby Ellsbury also signed a one year deal, but he goes for a lot less at a mere $2.4M. That and he hasn't done anything stupid enough for me to make a joke about yet.

OH YEAHHHH.

Denver Broncos running back Laurence Maroney was arrested last night on drug and weapon allegations. While his publicist did confirm that he was one of five people arrested after being pulled over outside of St. Louis, she insists that he did nothing wrong. Then she admitted that he was in posession of a firearm. I'm not sure what the gun laws are in Missouri, but when five people are arrested on gun charges, and one of them is your client, he did something wrong. Just sayin'.

A police spokeswoman later confirmed that all five passengers in the vehicle were in posession of marijuna and were all taken into custody. There was also a .45 handgun, 9 mm pistol and .223 calibur rifle found in the vehicle. Holy shit, they must have been on their way back from a hunting trip!

Maroney might be joining a decent list of criminals the Broncos have been harboring lately.

And he is really wearing a blinged out Kool-Aid man around his neck. Oh yeah.

Back on the field.

Holy shit, where have I been? Really?

It has been quite some time, and the time has brought upon some great changes in my life. Now that those things are settling themselves into some sort of regular order, I plan on reconnecting with you out there. Yeah, you. The one reading this right now. I've missed you.

So, while I haven't been sharing my point of view on the wild world of sports, I certainly still have one.

Let's start with football. My Jets are back in the playoffs, and really looking like properly assembled squad. Taking out the Patriots was a huge feat, but in the end it was all about who could get their tight pants in order and complete the task. Tom Brady just couldn't hold it together. Not that it really matters. He's still married to a super model and making $50M a year. Holler.

Spring training starts in a few short weeks, so I will surely be making my trek out to Camelback Ranch for some hot sun, cold beer, and hot guys in baseball gear. Screw Christmas, my holidays are coming up this spring.