When blue is in fashion.

If you have paid any sort of attention to Heidi Klum in the last ten years, you know that "one day you are in, and the next you are out." Granted, the supermodel is touting her famous phrase describing fashion and its designers and purveyors, but the tag line still makes so much sense to the world of sports.

I was just reading a horrendously sad article about Los Angeles' once beloved outfielder and slugger, Manny Ramirez. The 41-year old returned from China this year to attempt playing baseball in America again, only to sign a minor-league contract with the Texas Rangers. Unfortunately for Manny, he's only batting .250 (compared to a season-finishing .396 in 2008) with just three home runs and nine RBIs this season (compared to 37 and 121, respectively, in 2008), and shows little hope of playing in the majors again.

I remember the day Manny came to LA. It was July 31st, 2008. It was a little overcast, and really hot. My friend and I were walking up to the stadium and just sweating like hogs. For the first time I can clearly remember, there were big lit up signs on the roads leading up to Dodgers Stadium. They said, "GAME SOLD OUT." I couldn't tell you the last time that had happened.

The crowd was electric. There were lights flashing everywhere from Dodger fans new and old taking photos as Manny made his way to home plate for his first at-bat. Everyone chanted MANNY, MANNY in unison. The Dodgers didn't win that game, but it didn't matter. The fever for Manny Ramirez spread like wildfire. Signs went up all over town with the new #99 player plastered about. Elysian Park was suddenly dubbed Mannywood. The entire team stepped up and started playing like never before.

That was one the best seasons of baseball that I watched with the Dodgers. I'll never forget it. I'll always thank Manny for that season, in some way.

There's no need to discuss the demise of Manny in the MLB. It's all too common anymore, anyway.

But it makes me think: how many more Mannys will the Dodgers have? The MLB? And how many will go down as legends that we know and love forever? How many will retain a legacy untarnished? And how many will end up as a 41-year old playing terrible ball in the minor leagues while the rest of us joke about it on the internet?

As I watch the Puig-Mania already start to tease at a backlash as his insane hitting streak starts to fizzle, I want to remember that we love this game, and this game isn't about a player. It's about a team and a community. Take the good with the good, and take the bad as a team. I want to watch my favorite team succeed over and over again. Who doesn't?

But I don't want to disregard those who have come in and out like a flash of lightning when they contributed so much to our game at some point. And sometimes those contributions were not even on the field. So, no matter what happens next for any of these guys, they still created such special and memorable moments for us on the field. I know that I will cherish many of those moments forever, and I look forward to many more.

"With lies you may go ahead in the world, but you can never go back."

I guess I feel somewhat obligated to comment on the suspension of Milwaukee Brewers outfielder Ryan Braun, so here goes...

First of all, I'm not surprised by this at all. Following an intense appeal against prior accusations of doping brought against him, the investigation bore on rather viciously. Had Braun and his all-star companions come clean about their affiliations with the southern Florida clinic long ago, this wouldn't look as pathetically damaging as it does now. Now faced with "mountains of evidence" proving Braun is linked to Biogenesis, he takes the so-called high road and eats his 65-game unpaid suspension, and is suddenly commended for it.

Second, MLB, this is embarrassing. Braun is not a hero for being forced to admit his guilt. He got caught red handed. He was in the corner with nowhere else to go. How many times did he aggressively state his innocence and how violated he was in the last two years since this all began? Are we going to forget that he somehow weaseled his way out of this once before, while damning those investigating him?

Now, unable to find any sort of loophole to escape this time, he admits that he is only human. He also makes mistakes.

And our response is, 'what a great guy,' and 'we can't wait to have him back?'

So, our role models can cheat, lie, get caught, apologize for it, and it's all good? Is that the message the MLB is sending by patting him on the back for this?

Quite frankly, he should be ashamed of himself and so should the organizations that are not publicly shaming him for being such a giant crock of shit. I'd suggest the other players to come clean sooner rather than later before you look like bigger toolbags than Braun does right now.

On my soapbox.

I was going to refrain from writing anything on the Zimmerman/Martin case, but my incessant tweeting about it is probably getting excessive at this point. I have an opinion. I may as well blurt it out like the rest of the internet.

Whether or not one agrees with the verdict of this tragic case or not (I certainly don't), it brings up a much bigger issue in this country that should have been eradicated in 1776 when we declared our independence. But it wasn't. We held men and women of color in slavery to serve us until 1865. In 1964, America decided that the color of a person's skin no longer mattered, and had zero basis for judgement.

I can not lie and say I've never walked home alone late at night and had an inkling of fear in seeing some "thugged out" men in my vicinity. It has been engrained in our culture that men of a certain color and certain dress are up to no good. They're robbers, rapists, and generally violent. They deal drugs and steal cars. They're all the same. It's in the media. It's in our upbringing...in America.

I lived in Oakland as a teenager, and I was driving through a West Oakland warehouse district for band practice one night. I was probably 18 years old. I was stopped at a red light when a police car pulled along side my car. The office asked me what I was doing. I told him I was waiting for the light to change. He told me to just drive through it because I wasn't safe just sitting there abiding the law. In case you are wondering, yes, the officer was a white male.

It wasn't until I was well into adulthood that my father told me about my family history. My grandmother was adopted into the colored side of the family. Being biracial in the 30s was not acceptable, and her white family gave her up to the black side. I never knew this detail about my grandmother growing up, and it never crossed my mind that some of my family had darker skin than me. Most of my family would actually tease me for being so fair. When my father finally told us about our black side of the family, we shrugged it off like it was no big deal. We're a multi-racial bunch...whatever.

Young people growing up in the melting pot of cultures that is southern California, I had ethnic neighbors. Black, hispanic, Indian, Asian. They were people we said hi to on the street. They came to birthday parties. We rode bikes and went to the park. We were friends. We were human. So, the news of my family also being ethnic did nothing to arouse me.

It just meant nothing to me. It didn't make me better or worse. I think my dad thought it might have meant something to us, but he grew up in a different time.

People want to pretend that this is not about race, but I beg to differ. I'm well traveled in this country, and I would go as far to say that most of it is still racist. Cities are still segregated by design, even if the law doesn't allow the enforcement of it. Many Americans are still outwardly racist and ignorant. Those that aren't just pretend that it's not an issue or live in some segregated community where they don't have to be bothered with people of color.

To say that George Zimmerman did not look at Trayvon Martin, racially profile him, follow him even after he was told not to by emergency operators, and then shoot him because he mistook a pack of skittles for a weapon is absurd. This was an act of racism. This was an act of ignorance. Maybe Trayvon did fight back in the wake of being followed by a stranger. We'll never know the details. But tonight a racist man walks free because a racist jury could not see that George Zimmerman did anything wrong by shooting and killing an unarmed teenager because that teenager was a black male.

The message that jury sent to the rest of the country says that Trayvon Martin must have been doing something wrong because he is a young, black male. The message that jury sent to the rest of the country was that it is okay to shoot a black person because they make us feel unsafe. The message that jury sent to the rest of the country is that we are still so deep-rooted in racism.

America, the free....

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. - United States Declaration of Independence; July 4, 1776

Settling the score.

So, we're two days into the MLB season and the league showed off a brand new Los Angeles Dodgers team by leading off their season with their west coast rivals, the San Francisco Giants. The young Clayton Kershaw, often touted as the next Sandy Koufax, was the grand opening. The 2011 Cy Young award winner has been considered a golden goose for the boys in blue as they have struggled over the last couple of years amidst ownership and team turnover.

The golden goose didn't disappoint, giving the Dodgers their first win of the season. A first win that meant more than just a 1-0 standing. A win that proves this team has really had this all along, but just hasn't been nurtured properly. Hopefully that is all changing this year with the new wind beneath their wings, and a payroll that rivals that of the New York Yankees.

The Dodgers went on to be defeated in their second game, but not without a fight. So, we're 1-1. We have 160 games to go in the regular season, and the third game in the season, the third game of this series, is really the one that I'm watching.

The always-dreaded Giants starter, Tim Linsecum, returns to the Dodgers mound tonight, and fans from Northern and Southern California will be paying close attention. Although Linsecum had a shoddy 2012 season with just 10 wins and a 5.18 ERA, the kid still shut out super star slugger, Matt Kemp. Kemp went 0-8 against Linsecum with four strikeouts. He was pretty much the only pitcher he couldn't get a hit off of.

With a shoulder injury in the not so distant past, and a slow start in the first two games, Kemp may show Linsecum what he's been saving his energy for. A true blue Dodgers fan can only hope that he comes out of the clubhouse swinging for the fences, but this time actually makes a connection with the ball.

We've got about an hour before we find out...

(image courtesy of baseballanimals.com)

The Mugshot Files: Harvard Edition

It's been a while since I've seen a mugshot that makes me LLOL (literally laugh out loud, for those of you who haven't heard that yet).

The Oakland Raiders should be proud of their defensive tackle, Desmond Bryant, and his ability to cheer up a crowd. Of course, only after drinking far too much and stumbling into his neighbor's house to be an asshole.

I guess that Harvard education taught him that if he can't make the headlines by being in the Super Bowl, just go viral on the internet. All you need to do is get uber drunk and take a miserable, shirtless selfie. And then send a thank you note to Mark Zuckerberg.

(image courtesy of Yardbarker.com)

Let's talk about football.

With the close of the NFL season comes a good party, tons of calories, and another week closer to baseball season.

I will be honest in saying that I paid much more attention to football this year than last. Although the Jets struggled to barely make it through their regular season games, I found some fun in post-season football without them. With New York out of the running, I paired up with some of my Seattle mates to watch the Seahawks. The games were neck and neck. Full on nail biters. Right until the heartbreaking end.

From there, I had to turn south. To San Francisco. The 49ers fought their way through some tough teams. First, they tore through Green Bay. For me, it was like watching my first live football game all over again (see post in years past regarding my first game, many, many moons ago). Only this time, they took the win. I still think there was a lot of luck involved.

Next, they took on the Atlanta Falcons. Watching the first quarter of this game was pretty abysmal. From the way they were playing, there was no way they were going to make it past these birds. Somehow, they managed to recover, and the game remained tight until the last couple of minutes. I wasn't even sure they had the win at the 2:00 warning.

But they did.

And then I got to thinking. How much of this is rigged? How badly did the NFL want to see the Harbaugh brothers battle it out against each other? What a great marketing tool! What a great story for the books! I'm sure their parents are so proud! Which one will root for which team?

I'll be honest, I think the Ravens fought the good fight to earn their place in Super Bowl XLVII. But I really thought the game was going to be bird on bird. A fight for the south and the east. As much as the 49ers played hard, they made critical mistakes that were magically erased by many strokes of good luck in the divisional and conference games.

That being said, I'm turning my back on my third-string team and rooting for the Baltimore Ravens next Sunday. I look good in purple anyway.

So, let's play ball...and figure out the menu....may the best team win.

The Rebirth...

I saw the Dodgers make a great post on their Twitter feed today.

30 days until we head to Camelback Ranch. 30 days until that threaded ball gets tossed around in the glistening Arizona sun. 30 days until baseball.

If you're new to me, you should know that I believe baseball to be the best six months out of the year. It's my church, my serenity, my favorite pastime. There's numbers, statistics, and explosions. There's always some sort of calm before the storm. A pitching game can turn into a four run lead in a matter of seconds. There's the thrill of that pennant chase. And as much as the guys on TV like to tell us who is looking to make into October, there's just no telling what could happen over summer.

With every burst of new talent, there are old horses waiting to go out to pasture. There are injuries. Sometimes there are scandals. The Dodgers have seen it all, and I am sure they are not through.

Regardless of the drama, we welcome the 2013 season with open arms, big hearts, and wide eyes. Because this year is finally shaping up for our boys in blue.

I know I'm hoping to see Matt Kemp, Chad Billingsley, and Ted Lilly all coming off of injuries feeling stronger than ever. If Kemp can drag Ethier up the rungs with him, I think the rest of the batting lineup will follow suit. Adrian Gonzalez had an outstanding 2012, and Hanley Ramirez is hoped to raise the bar as a wild card in this lineup. Newby, Carl Crawford aka "The Perfect Storm," completely rounds out this hurricane of a team.

Our pitching game is what finally looks glowing. The Dodgers have not had a pitching lineup like this in quite some time. Josh Beckett and Matt Greinke are expected to be quite the fire starters, but Clayton Kershaw and new Korean pitcher Hyun-Jin Ryu will presumably have an exceptional season as well.

This team didn't come without a hefty price tag, but under new ownership and at the brink of a fresh year, there are finally worlds of possibilities for these guys.

Hey, MLB, watch us go. Go Blue!

Let the countdown begin....

Back on the field.

I've had nothing to say for a while.

Mainly because I can't write when I don't feel. Quite frankly, sports have not made me feel anything for a while. Perhaps I can blame it on the lackluster ability of team owners and managers to assemble any sort of quartet worth paying attention to. Maybe I could even blame it on outside sources that have distracted me so from my passions. Sources that distract me from my loves and my creativity.

Whatever.

I watched a ton of football today (and drank a lot of alcohol). I went to a sports bar full of douchey guys and slutty girls pretending to like football. It was awesome. There's an energy and an outcry of love towards a bunch of overweight guys in tight pants that no one in the room has ever met before. There's this connection toward them that ignites some feeling so deep that their failure translates into one's own. Yeah, totally irrational.

But we still do it.

And I'm glad that I did. Because it's been a while since I surrounded myself amongst those people that relate themselves to these massive creatures of the midwest. It's been a while since I have been reminded of how much we need to channel the players on the field and give so many of us to live for. Maybe because we work a mediocre job or have a shitty marriage. Maybe because we never exhausted our dreams into any thread of reality. Maybe because Sundays outside of church give us something else to live for.

Football is an American sport. And we live that American dream through those monsters on the field. No matter how or why.

I love sports, and I'm sorry I've neglected sharing how much I love sports with you guys for so long. Whether I'm making jokes on a player or spewing my opinion on a game, I feel the need to spread my good word. Even if my language is bad.

I love sports. I love you. And I'm back.

Call this my belated new years resolution. Hi, 2013. Hike.

Play ball, 2012!

I just returned from Arizona, a generally dismal state that I would not visit if it weren't for my family and MLB spring training. It's overwhelmingly hot most of the year, everything is brown (their yards don't even have grass!), and there are too many old people driving around. These could all be considered hazards to one's health.
For just a few short months out of the year I make the sacrifice of leaving California's beautiful borders to head out to Arizona for a long weekend. This entails one of two things. Some big family event or baseball. Since the MLB built their western spring training facilities all around the Phoenix area, visiting the desert doesn't seem to suck nearly as much anymore.
The weather this weekend was perfect. Low to mid-80s, mostly blue skies, and just a touch of breeze. The sun was warm, the beer was cold, and the players were in tight pants....except for the ones weren't. I find that to be somewhat sacrilegious.
The day started with us getting up early and deciding which stadium to hit for which games. My boyfriend and I have rival teams, so this is not always and easy thing to decide. That, and it was St. Patrick's Day so I didn't want to drive far. There was green beer to drink! And tequila...whatever. Don't judge me.
Basically every game was sold out except for the Cubs vs. the A's. No surprise there. So the day was decided for us, head up to the nearest park and pick up some tickets at the box office. Um, yeah, and by box office I mean some sketchy crackheaded dude pacing up and down the block in front of the park who snapped at my poor mother for taking too long to count the cash out to him. She's a trooper. We fed her margaritas. She was fine shortly after.
The rest is typical....beer, balls flying out of the park as everyone is fresh and rested, and more beer. It was my first game of the year, and although I didn't really see anyone I wanted to see, I got to see the game that I love the most. Can't beat that with a stick. Or a bat.

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)