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.