Monthly Archives: October 2011
Last weekend, there was a little spat among some La Liga players. I didn’t see the game, but the post-match played out on Twitter. Again, not known to me are the particulars, but I’m guessing that somewhere in the melee someone called Cesc Fabregas racist.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to come up with this since Cesc tweeted how adamantly non-racist he is. Among the evidence: His Lebanese girlfriend and Arabic tattoo.
Yay for tolerance, open-mindedness and not being racist.
That’s not what this post is about.
This is about that “Arabic” tattoo.
I don’t know what offends me the mot about this — the fact that it’s ugly OR that there’s a lame little star in the middle of it OR that there’s an even lamer “D” within that star (doesn’t he know rule #1 of relationship tattoos — don’t get em) OR that it’s not even in Arabic. It has been transliterated. In my class, that’s forbidden!
I’m willing to forgive Cutie Fabregas anything, except this gross injustice.
Before I even saw it, I read that the tattoo said “My Life ‘D’ Forever.” And when I finally saw the picture, I immediately felt like all my Arabic studies were in vain. I COULDN’T READ IT.
But fear not. It took me a good minute to realize that I couldn’t understand this monstrosity because I was reading it from right to left and looking for Arabic letters. The way you’re supposed to!
I’m not saying that all Arabic tattoos need to be in Arabic. But why not? You’re still going to have to translate it for everyone. Which one do you think is cooler?
And besides, when you stick to the original script, you avoid inconsistencies with transliteration. I mean how many different ways are there to spell Moammar Gadhafi?
Check these calligraphy tattoos. It’ll make you look twice at Cutie Fabregas’.
PHOTOS: Cesc showing off his left forearm tattoo and close-up of Arabic (both from tumblr).
Martha. Freaking. Stewart.
First, she lures me in with super-cute homemade decorations that are both sleek and shut-the-front door simple. Like, how could you not have thought of that yourself decades ago? Then, the siren beckons even more when the directions don’t betray that simplicity. Like, yes, even your 5-year-old neighbor can do this. The nail in the coffin is when you’ve already invested time and money over the course of a weekend and the “end product,” if you can really call it that, looks like something Martha wipes her ass with.
Damn you, Martha Freaking Stewart!
I had an inspired idea to make Halloween decorations out of papier-mâché and a quick, cursory look on the Internet reveals that not only has everyone else already thought of it, Martha has perfected it. An obligatory roll of the eye. Of course she has. As much as I want to, I can’t hate her. She puts together some pretty sick designs.
All the above needed was balloons, tissue paper, and wheat paste, a mixture of flour and water. First of all, wheat paste is gross — clumpy, messy, smelly, fast to dry and a pain to clean. Second, orange tissue paper is harder to find than you’d imagine. Third, I don’t know why I thought papier-mâché would be fast and easy. It’s not like I’d ever done it before on my own and unsupervised by an adult who brought all the materials and pre-prepped my work area. First balloon took 30 minutes.
After an appropriate lapse of time…10 orange balloons hanging from a line. The next day, I pop the first balloon and it shrivels up and dies. What the hell?! The second balloon does much better. I’m reassured. But it’s fleeting. One by one, down the line I go, and it’s Russian roulette which balloon survives to live another mâché-d day.
Out of the seven survivors, just one looks Martha-esque. The rest don’t look like they’ll be able to stand more poking, prodding and cutting to become jack-os. Now, after two days and $20, I’m aborting original plan. Their new lot in life will reflect my inner-crafty feelings — gory lanterns with blood splatter and drips. Have you thought of that one yet, Martha?!
Proving there’s life after head-butting a coach, José de Jesús Corona is officially back on with the Mexican National Team.
He’s joining the sub-22s this month during the 2011 Pan American Games in Guadalajara.
Kudos to one of our favorite (read: hottest) Mexican goalies. His track record with the national team has been spotty. Twice he’s been called up — for a World Cup, and most recently the Gold Cup — and both times he’s been booted because of his bad boy personality. Personally, we think that’s a plus. But apparently, in the power-player circles, it’s a no-no to make your point using your head. More so when that head is aimed at an opposing coach’s face. Ouch!
I’m also digging how introspective he is:
“Honestly, I did not know if I’d ever be back with the national team. I’ve been given a new opportunity and since I got the news, there’s been a big commitment on my part. I know that we are role models for many kids and fans, and it’s going to be important to demonstrate that at every moment.”
-From Univision article (link in Spanish)
Wait, so you’re saying this isn’t appropriate action for a role model?
I went whale-watching last month during my Monterey spa-cation. I wore jeans and three top layers — t-shirt, sweatshirt, double-sided jacket. The swells were tough and as we skipped along the bay, I kept getting hit by the splash. At the end of three hours, I had a nice layer of sea salt on everything. I was cold and hungry. I got miserably sick following this outing — but it was worth it.
A humpback whale put on a show and breached way the hell out of the water. Sadly, my silly little camera was slow on the shot. The top photo was all the evidence I got of that majestic moment.
My three-hour tour in photos is not at all impressive. I took almost 50 shots and all were of water with slanted horizons. That top one is the best, and yes, that means that my skills are sad.