I'd tap that like Riverdance

The other night I went out with some friends to a bar and we got to playing a little game. I don't know the official, clever name, but for all intents and purposes it was who would you date, do and marry. We wracked our brains (not an easy task after consuming cheap beer) thinking of the best celebrties to date, marry and get freaky with. After much internal debate, my three finalists were these guys:

Do- Ben Foster


Date- John Krasinski


Marry- Duh



My date and marry options generally went unopposed. But there has been some issue with my do, the gorgeous and, I imagine, completely edible Ben Foster. Take another scroll back up there. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Done? Yeah, he's stunning. Really, really, ridiculously good looking. I have been given shit about loving my he-mistress Ben. I get why people may sneer; he is dirty in everything he has ever been in. In some things, I would go so far as to describe his characters as, er, crusty. But he looks good all the while! ALL THE WHILE I SAY.

Thus, to all my nay-sayers, eat it. I don't care what you say. I've had my share of weird, celebrity crushes that don't make sense but Mr. Foster is not one of them.

Who is, you ask?

Jason Lee

Yes, the Jason Lee from My Name is Earl. I don't know what it is, but I see him with the mustache and southern accent and I'm hooked on whatever he's saying. Another reason I probably should never visit the south. Or date anyone with a van.


Jason Segal

Now, I'm not saying I watched an episode of How I Met Your Mother and thought, "Hey, that guy is kind of cute." I'm also not admitting that I watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall and thought, "Wow, that's quite a soldier you're givin' orders to below the belt." But I will say that if I ever saw Jason Segal walking down the street, I may or may not throw panties. What? They'd be nice panties.


Stephen Colbert

I have this friend who once said she thought Stephen Colbert was cute. I scoffed. I sneered. I said, "You are incorrect, madame," and then pointed to another friend and said, "Check out this one over here who thinks Stephen Colbert is do-able. Square alert!" Well, I came home and I took a long look at myself in the mirror. Then I went to IMDB and did some Colbert searching. And I'll be damned, she has a point.

Let's all be honest, we have all have weird celebrity crushes. Now that I've shared mine, I would like to hear the celebrities who get you all hot and flustered. C'mon, don't be shy. It's only a public forum that anyone could see at anytime.

How to Excrete Excellence: Sports Edition

So there I am, minding my business and checking my e-mail, when I saw this headline:

Unapologetic Coach of 100-0 Win Fired By School

The story, if you're too lazy to click on the link, is this girl's high school basketball team from Dallas beat another team so badly (100-0, as the title suggests) that the girls from the winning team apologized for it. In my head, the apology went a little something like this:

To the team that is still trying to pick up the pieces,

We're terribly sorry we owned you at basketball. Seriously, we didn't mean to take 3-point shot after 3-point shot, especially after it was painfully clear you didn't have a shot in hell at winning. Additionally, we apologize for pulling your pants down, licking the palm of our hands and spanking you over and over again in front of your family, friends and school mates while tears of shame streamed down your (face) cheeks. Our bad.

I get why an apology was necessary. It's high school basketball, not the (W)NBA. The coach refused to apologize though. He said, "Aw hell nah! There's no way I'm apologizing for teaching my players to be awesome, albeit kinda cocky assholes." But to be fired over refusing to apologize? To get shit canned from your job because you taught your players, oh, I don't know, to win? That seems a bit much. Granted, I don't really know much about basketball except for basic Phoenix Suns knowledge all Arizonans are required to know, but I think this might be a little much.



Raja Bell is my favorite because his name is that of my favorite Disney tiger from my favorite, racially stereotypical Disney Movie "Aladdin". Rawr!

Could the coach have told his players to scale it down a bit and stop showing off? Probably. Should he have told his players to at least pretend to be having a hard time for a while and show a little grace? Sure. But that's not how athletics work in the good ol' US of A. Sure, athletes here have talent. Bigger than talent, though, they all have gigantic mouths that run at a million miles an hour so everyone will know how awesome they are.

Here's a breakdown as far as I've been able to tell when it comes to sports in America.

1. Discover a sport your good at.
2. Make playing it your #1 priority. School? Fuck school. You're all about putting a ball through a hoop/putting a ball in another person's hands/messing around with balls in general.
3. Make money off of your ball handling abilities.
4. Become unbelievably cocky about numbers 2 and 3.
5. Film commercials for anything. Literally, anything that will pay you. Ben-gay and Wheaties sponsorships only go so far. Mercedes-Benz and Roy's Auto Body sponsorships last a lifetime.
6. Waste all your money on stupid things, like a football shaped pool or strippers.
7. Fall on hard times.
8. With no education to fall back on (see #2), re-discover love for your sport.
9. Don't call it a comeback (psst- it's a comeback!)
10. Raise children to repeat.

All in all, these girls did what they were coached to do: eat losers for breakfast. The fact that the losers they happened to be munching on were 8 girls from a school that specializes in "learning disorders", well, that's just sports in the USA baby. Is that Nike and Gatorade knocking at the door? I think it is.

It's Not You, It's Me. All Me.

Here's something you may not have known: my blog is suffering from a very real lack of love. Not from my faithful readers (which I hear is now up to 7, score!), but from yours truly. I can't really say why, something about being lazy probably. Or maybe it's because there's really nothing going on at the moment. The jury is still out.

In any case, I'll have updates. Glorious, awesome, hallelujah inducing updates. You're going to read my updates, poo yourself and then say, "She's right, those were some great updates. Anyone have a fresh pair of pantaloons?" Also, I've said the word update too much and now it's lost all meaning. Update.

However, tonight is Friday night and I have plans to watch movies, drink a little and not wear pants.

How do I do it? I'm very brave, that's how.

Days Like These

Today I woke up and something was off. Not bad, not good, just off. It happens occasionally. I can usually feel it coming the night before.

Sometimes I won't sleep. Sometimes I'll wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, feeling like I just missed something important. Other nights, I lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering what it is I'm supposed to be doing. There's always that nagging feeling that I'm supposed to be doing something, that there's something I can't quite remember.

The mornings that follow such restless nights are rarely good. I swing my legs from the bed and plant my feet on the floor. I take the first step of the day and trip on nothing. I bump my elbow on the door frame and burn myself with the straightening iron. I am definitely not in sync with myself.

I don't have an explanation for days like these. Days where I'm doing nothing out of the ordinary, but there's this force and purpose behind everything that wasn't there yesterday. Simple things feel so much more significant. I feel like I'm moving in slow motion. I can see my breath and the tiny, gusts of air that follow my fingers every time they move. Nothing feels real.

I am more suspicious on days like these. I don't understand how everyone else doesn't feel what I feel and doesn't see what I see. How can one go about their business on days like these? How can a person function with such force all around them? Days like these, I can feel my chest expanding. My brain is trying to take in too much and I usually end the day with a headache.

Days like these. How curious.

3D: The 3rd D is for "DANG! That Shit Is Coming Right At Me!"

Today is a glorious day. Why? Because tonight I am going to see this:



Yes, I realize it is a remake and remakes generally suck more than trying to drink a milkshake through a twisty straw. Normally I would be against any horror remake of any kind but this one has one magical thing that the original did not: a 3rd dimension. Yeah, you heard me. Paying $10 to see a psychopath take out some horny teens with a pick axe is ridiculous. But paying $10 to see some psychopath take out some horny teens with a pick axe IN 3-MOTHER EFFING-D suddenly becomes worth it.

If I walked up to the ticket counter and the pimply kid behind the counter said, "That'll be one human arm," I'd pull out a handsaw and start taking names (and arms).

If the ticket taker guy was like, "You can't wear any clothes in the theatre because it's a security threat," I'd take my pants off and eat my popcorn naked as the day I was born.

Point being, I don't think people realize how amazing 3D is. Sure, I could look around me and see things in 3D. The apple on my desk, for example, is in 3D and it's nothin' fancy. Apples is apples, right?

But the apple isn't doing anything. It's not killing teens with a pick axe. It's not dancing off the screen and making me feel happy or scared or excited. Mostly though, it's sure as hell not entertaining me. And really, that's all 3D movies are; a better, more intense form of entertainment. Yes, the crazed killer is scary looking, but now he's scary looking AND COMING AT MY FACE. It's essentially just more bang for your buck.

When I was a kid, I went to Disneyland and saw Captain EO. This was, of course, before Michael Jackson touched all those kids. Whoops, I mean allegedly touched all those kids. When I was a teenager, I saw Terminator, Shrek, A Bug's Life and Honey, I Shrunk The Kids in 3D. Now, as an adult, my 3D adventures continue. My thirst for movies in 3D shall never be quenched.

Really, at this point, it doesn't even matter to me if the movie is good. Obviously, I hope it is. But as long as I get to wear those awesome red and blue 3D glasses and see some good ol' fashion slashin', I'll be pleased as punch.

January 15, 1992

Well, ladies and gentleman, it seems that yesterday I suffered from what is commonly known as "an overreaction". It can also go by freaking out for no reason, momentarily losing one's shit or just straight up being an unpleasant dickface.

The rest of the day turned out fine. But, what's in the past is in the past and now it's time to focus on the future. What exactly does the future hold today? This guy:



That's right, Red, everybody's communal little brother, is entering full blown teenage sassery and turning 17 today. It seems like just yesterday we were making fun of his red hair and telling him we found him in a bathroom when he was young.*

So, in celebration of Red's glorious, goo filled entrance into the world exactly 17 years ago, I now present 17 things that make me glad Tomas is around.

17. He knows the cool, teen slang that all the kids are using these days.
16. He entertains me with his high school stories.
15. His hair is awesome. Somehow two Mexican parents gave way to a redhead, which has served him quite well over the years.
14. We stick together during family parties where we don't know anyone.
13. Whilst participating in #14, we also make fun. I love having people to make fun with,
12. He cracks me up during driving lessons.
11. He has given me the gift of knit. As in, the kid taught me how to knit and didn't stab me with a knitting needle when I almost lost my shit over pearling.
10. He's smart, like almost to a freakish degree. I don't think there is any problem Red couldn't figure out eventually.



9. He let's me call him "Fatty" even though the nickname doesn't really apply.
8. His fashion sense is pretty rad. Did I mention he KNITS HIS OWN ACCESSORIES?!
7. He owns accessories.
6. Red is his own person. He's not afraid to do out of the box things and he never apologizes for it.
5. He's a smart ass.



4. I can share comfortable silences with him.
3. He sings, loudly. Like big, fat lady singing. It's awesome.
2. He is one of the funniest people I've ever met.
1. Because even though we're related and I have to love him, I would still do it anyway.



So, here's to the littlest member of the group. Happy Birthday, Fatty.


*May or may not have actually been yesterday.

Wednesday Boycott

I'm in a mood today. A terrible, face melting, punch in the head inducing mood. I went to bed tense last night and woke up with my entire body rebelling. The area between my shoulders and the small of my back insist on spasming every five minutes. Hey, guess what back of the body area-- I didn't forget that you existed. So chill the fuck out with all this spasming business and let me be. Live and let live, right?

Aside from feeling like someone sat on me all night, I'm trying to cheer myself up. It's not really working. I think it's cause I don't really want to be cheered up. I want to be angry today because I'm just that filled with rage. Karina angry, Karina smash!

So, in the spirit of being a bitch, I am officially saying that today can eat it. That's right, I declare this entire Wednesday a complete and total waste of time and effort. Eff Wednesday, in other words.

Tuesdays? I'll take it.

Thursdays? Hell yeah.

Wednesdays? Wednesdays need to roll themselves in a carpet, walk itself out to the nearest dumpster, pour a bowl of day old lo-mein on top of itself and wait to be taken to a landfill where it truly belongs. Better yet, Wednesdays can stroll on down to Uncle Tony's Footlocker, invest in a pair of nice, comfy cement shoes, walk itself down the most remote fishing harbor, take a leap in and get to know a couple of great whites. Mafia deaths are only fitting for snake in the grass Wednesdays. You think you can rely on this unassuming day of the week? You are mistaken. Wednesday is the day your car will run out of gas. It's the day you'll realize you owe money all over town. Hell, Wednesdays will sleep with your wife if you let them. They're the biggest dick of all the weekdays, besting even that dingleberry wiener Monday.

Worst of all, Wednesday blog posts are totally irrelevant.

"I thought I was coming here to read about something entertaining," you thought.

Well, guess what? It's Wednesday, and Wednesdays are assholes.