Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on July 31, 2007

Hi, my name is Kristabella and I actually like Victoria Beckham, AKA Posh Spice. Gasp! There. I admitted it. It’s the first step and all. 

I know. It might be a little shocking. The only person I ever knew that actually liked that wretched woman was Scarlet. But she loves all things British. Especially Tony Blair.

I always thought she was a haughty bitch. Always with that pout. Smile for fuck’s sake. Your life is not that bad! And eat a damn sammich!

But as you’re all aware, I am a slave to all reality television. I even do live-blogging during Top Chef over on MamaPop. I will watch anything. Once. Or in the case of that trainwreck of a show that Bret Michaels is on, every. Damn. Week!

So I TiVoed the Victoria Beckham Coming to America special. Mostly because I heard how baaaaad it was supposed to be. See, it was supposed to be this long series. But they only had enough material for one episode. Which is probably enough. Any more and I may have hated that skinny, stuck up bitch again.

Anyway, so I finally watched it. And I’m here to tell you, she’s entertaining. Yes, I know she’s not really a celebrity and shouldn’t have this much attention on her. Blah, blah, blah. At least she’s a singer. And got “famous” from being in The Spice Girls. Unlike Paris Hilton who got famous because her daddy paid people to pay attention to her ass-face.

But you know what? Posh Spice always has underwear on. Excuse me, knickers. She’s always polite to the paparazzi. She’s not beating their cars down with umbrellas. She’s not shouting obscenities at them. And she’s not drinking and driving! And really, the paparazzi are going to follow celebrities. We can’t change that. But I’d much rather they show her and put her in the news and on magazine covers than those other skanky law breakers.

Anyway, back to the show. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend you TiVo it (I think Bravo might still be showing it) or watch it on You Tube. It’s all there.

People, the woman is funny. She does the pout on purpose. She’s full-on aware that she comes off like a skinny, hoity toity bitch in the media. And I think she’s OK with it. She hunted down Perez Hilton and bitch-slapped him and told him not to write mean things. No. Not really. He did buy her a cookie and she turned it down because it would “ruin her image.” She said she just cannot smile, have fun or eat. Especially not in front of the paparazzi.

I love that she’s not that full of herself. (Don’t get me wrong, she’s still rich and thinks she’s better than most people.) But I like that she’ll poke fun at herself and at her image. And that it doesn’t seem to bother her. Mostly I’m glad (read: insanely shocked) that she’s got a personality. And isn’t a robot.

My favorite line was when she was looking for houses. And they found one that Lionel Richie used to own. And the realtor said that the house used to have stone floors, but Lionel replaced them himself. So Posh says “So Lionel Richie laid the parquet floor by hand…(beat)…all whilst dancing on the ceiling.”

Awesome.

And really, her husband is dead sexy. So I can put up with her. But now even more so that she’s got blood flowing under that outside layer of skin. And not wires and transponders and robot shit.

That man is all kinds of yummy.

Category: All Things TV, General | 9 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on July 30, 2007

It’s a sad day in the sports world. Today marked the passing of arguably one of the greatest football coaches in the history of the game. Today, Bill Walsh passed away after battling leukemia for quite some time.

I’m quite sad about it. I had heard through some of the San Francisco writers that he was going downhill quickly, so it was a matter of time. But it’s always sad when someone dies. It’s even sadder when it’s someone so legendary. And also someone you were lucky enough to know in your lifetime.

I joined the 49ers in 1999, not too soon after The Genius came back to the 49ers to be General Manager. He was a good man. I didn’t interact with him too much, but he was always the consummate professional. He could have spit on me and I would have been OK with that. He was Bill Freaking Walsh, for Christ’s sake.

I wish I had some really great Bill Walsh stories to tell. But I don’t. I didn’t interact with him much as a GM. I think the one I remember the most was when I was brand spanking new. It was probably one of my first days. I was sitting at my desk, which was an island right in the middle of the room, and I had my head down. I looked up and there was Bill Walsh. In the flesh. And I was speechless (shocking, I know!) And he stuck his hand out and said “Hello, I’m Bill.” And all I thought was “DUH” but thankfully didn’t say it.

I was a big fan of Walsh’s because he knew what it took to run a team and he knew how to win. His eye for talent matched no other. He got it. Much unlike the current owners and management in San Francisco. And I heard all the stories about how he was so ruthless and could just be the biggest bastard. But you know what? He pushed his team to a level most football franchises will never reach. He was only the head coach for three of the 49ers five Super Bowl championships, but those were his players and his coaches that won the other two.

The man could turn one draft pick into four. And not just get more picks, but get quality picks and sleepers with those picks. And he invented the West Coast Offense. And that is why they call him The Genius.

It’s a sad day, but after battling such a sucky disease, I’m sure he is in a better place. Think of all the tail he’s going to get in the afterlife!

To honor El Genio, I decided to crack open a bottle of wine he gave us from his vineyard in Woodside.

Rest in peace, Coach. You will be missed.

Category: Forty Whiners, General, Sports | 3 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on July 29, 2007

Well, I made up for my laziness of last weekend, the one where I sat inside all day and read all of Harry Potter, by being crazy busy this weekend. Which I think helps me to get back to feeling like myself because I am a creature of habit and love routine. And damn, I had a lot I needed to get done. And really? Those dishes weren’t going to clean themselves. As much as I demanded that they do, they just don’t listen. Damn insubordinate forks.

I actually had a dentist appointment on Friday afternoon. I will remind you that the dentist and I are not friends. (Actually, I should say Nazi hygienists and I are not friends.) But this appointment went really well. Probably because I was expecting bad, bad things. I put this appointment off for a few extra months. That coupled with the fact that when I wasn’t working in April/May, I wasn’t much motivated to brush my teeth all that often. I did every night, but sometimes that was the only time. (Yes, I know! Disgusting human being I am!) Also in that time period, I stopped flossing. So I was expecting a wrath of shit. And lots of metal, pointy things jabbing into my gums. And probably not on accident.

But? Not so bad. They said just to floss more, but overall I got a big old gold star! Yay me! And the Crest Spinbrush Pro! Which I would like to thank because it really works better than a manual brush. And I’d also like the thank the Academy…

(Every time I type brush, it comes out bruch. Because the C and S are kind of close? Or because I’m so fat and always thinking about food and wish I was going to brunch?)

After the dentist, I finally got some errands done, got my book club book, for the book club that’s in like less than 2 weeks, all while sweating my face off because the humidity was sweltering. It’s literally so humid that wet towels do not dry. Like for days. DAYS! I know this because my damn window air conditioner drips a LOT of water into my room. Like soaks 2 towels through and through. Every night. And I have to dry them out. And they WON’T DRY. And it’s fucking frustrating.

On Saturday, I was all over town, doing so much walking (in flip flops, mind you, which duh, stupid girl, is why your damn back is killing you.) I got my eyebrows did, my nails did, walked to Wrigley to get tickets to Tuesday’s game (70s night! Barry Williams in the house!) then went downtown for Shelly’s gift and to get myself a new damn top to wear to look cute, to meet boys so I could give up my Match.com pipe dreams.

Found new top. Did not meet any cute boys. But got 2 emails from Match dudes. One signed his email “find me.” Um, maybe not. Am lazy.

And then today I went up to my brother’s to see them. And more importantly, to go see The Simpsons Movie. Which was absolutely awesome. It was hysterical. And so much better than their attempts in the last few seasons. This was classic Simpsons. So we obviously know they’ve been spending all their efforts on the movie and not the damn show.

And then, as always, the highlight of the day is seeing my niece and nephew. Who are just as cute as ever. Especially when Skyler wants to put on Auntie’s shoes. All while wearing nothing but a diaper.

She always gets like this when we give her too much to drink. Not unlike her Auntie.

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, All in the Family, General | 6 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on July 26, 2007

Disclaimer: I’ve had a few drinks before writing this. Because I had to finish (oh yes, bitches, you read that right. FIN-ISH.) the bottle of wine from last night. Which should be a SHOCK to all of you that last night with dinner I had one (ONE motherfuckers!) glass of wine with dinner. Which meant? I left an almost-full bottle of wine just sitting there on my counter for a full 24 hours. Me. Medal. Now. KaiThxBai. 

So I’m sure some of you know (read: maybe three of you) that the annual BlogHer conference is this weekend. In Chicago. At Navy Pier. Here. In my city.

Am I going, you ask? No. And I’m kind of starting to think that might have been a bad choice.

I read all the stories on numerous blogs from the BlogHer conference in San Jose, CA last year. This was before I was a blogger myself. But I thought “what fun! Can’t wait to go myself!”

I found out it was in Chicago and was immediately elated. Just think! Meeting all these bloggers that I secretly stalk and secretly want to be. (Um, yeah. Not so secret.)

But then I went online to register and Gawd DAMN! it is expensive to go to conferences. Let’s be honest. I was not planning on going and learning anything. (People, I will be fixing them all, mostly, but if you could see some of these misspellings I have right now, you’d laugh! One thousand laughs! Apparently drinking = fat fingers. Maybe I should keep them! The misspellings. Not the fat fingers. It’d be like a whole post of lolcats.)

Anyway, so at the time I was finding out the cost of this two-day conference snooze-fest (sorry, some of the topics you’d have to pay me to attend) was also when I was mired in a whole bunch of shit with the old job and the blog and the unjust firing. That went on for a total of 18 days. And I figured spending over $200 on a conference probably wasn’t the best idea. When I was going to be unemployed at some time in the near future. So I waited. And figured I’d sign up after I got a new job. I probably couldn’t come to the conference on Friday, taking a day off from a new job and all, but I could at least attend the cocktail festivities and maybe Saturday’s events.

But for the love of Christ, the cocktail event and Saturday was still well over $100. And I? Am cheap beyond belief. And if I knew that the bloggers I really wanted to meet were going, then I would totally sign up. But no one was really mentioning BlogHer in May.

(Let me just point out that this post is already too long. About NOTHING. What the hizzy is wrong with me? And I’m forcing myself to stay on point otherwise I’d be all “BlogHer is tomorrow. We get to wear jeans tomorrow. And I also am getting me teeth cleaned. Wheeee!”)

And then Jen wrote a post about being snubbed by BlogHer. And how DARE THEY?! And since the idea of hanging out with her at the Four Seasons sounded like a much better (and cheaper. Maybe.) idea, I went with that. (Although, I’m sure I’m banned from her festivities since she’s under the impression that I’m (moi?) the one who made her subscribe to the Big Brother feeds on CBS. I have no idea what she’s talking about.)

So I kind of forgot about it. And then the BlogHer posts started showing up on people’s blogs. Who was going. Who wasn’t. And I started to wonder if I should be attending.

But here was my thing. I really did want to go. But as I mentioned before (which, yes, I KNOW, is hard to believe) I can be shy. And the thought of going somewhere with all these strangers/people-who-I-know-that-don’t-know-me caused me to pass out and fall out of my chair and hit my head right on the corner of the coffee table. Dude, I’m a girl. I don’t even like going to the bathroom by myself.

If only I had met Marianne earlier. (Who, please, go read. Is funny. And cute. And pregnant. And you don’t want to upset a pregnant lady do you? Oh and also? I’m going to start carrying her around in my purse with me because she thinks I’m so, so funny.) And I’m pretty sure my persuasive powers could have convinced her to go. “Let’s be each other’s wingmen! And totally embarrass ourselves in front of Miss Zoot! It’s right in our backyard! Who cares that you’re moving that same weekend! Let’s get drunk with ‘famous’ bloggers!” (Except this obviously would have been before I found out she was preggers. Dur.)

But I found out today, she’s not going either. And I, in that kind of situation, need one person I know. I’m not a big blogger. I can’t just walk up to anyone and be all “I’m Kristabella, bitch.” Because I need someone to hold hands with in the back corner behind the fake palm tree pointing and talking about people.

So I’m sure it would be fun. (And seriously, Marianne, I know where they are going to be. We could totally crash.) But I just think that I’ll have to be going to the next one. (And I’ll be recruiting all of you (Swishy, Scarlet, Marianne, et al) well in advance.) Because as comfortable as I am stalking people from afar, I am not comfortable with A) meeting them in person and B) the possibility that they will not like me. (Come to think of it, I’ve never met any of you in person either. So be prepared for me to act like an asshole. And talk into my drink and not make eye contact. Because I’m. Just. That. Cool.)

I’ve already proven I should not meet anyone outside my circle of friends. (Yet for some reason out of my realm of understanding, she still talks to me.) (Although, maybe not anymore.)

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, General | 7 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on July 25, 2007

Usually the titles of posts come to me. They may take a little thinking, but I can usually come up with something. Lately, it’s been a whole different story. It’s like I’ve finally killed the subject/headline writing part of my brain with all the beer and wine.

Or maybe it’s all the PRESSURE! from the Match.com email subject lines. Do people even read subject lines? What? NO! No one wrote me back yet. (Yes, shut up. I know it’s been like less than 24 hours. Remember the shoes???)

Anyway, I have all these notes in my handy, dandy blog notebook and none of them (NONE I tell you!) are stand-alone posts. So welcome to Hodgepodge-O-Rama! Contestant number one, come on down.

(No, I don’t plan on making this into a game show. But doesn’t it sound like a Game Show? And so fitting, since I watch GSN way too much?) (And I would totally KILL on Hodgepodge-O-Rama. If only because I know a whole plethora of stupid shit.)

(Actually, it should probably be Bullet-O-Rama or something. Since bulletpoints = unrealted thoughts thrown together to make a post. (In the Blogger’s Reference Guide at least.) But then y’all might think you’re getting shot at. And no one needs that.) (I’d totally KILL at that game too (totally pun intended) “What is 9mm Glock, Alex.”)

Anyway! On with the show!

• I should actually write it exactly how I write it down in my notes. Because then I would guarantee no readers ever again. “What the fuck is that crazy cat lady talking about over there? Is there a type of blog psych ward we can check her in to?”
• So last week during the conference, we were out as a group at Dave & Busters. As we were busing it back to the hotel (I’d fill in the other lyrics to that song, but sadly that’s all I know) we had some really good thunderstorms. And these people were mesmerized. The one guy wanted a storm. A really bad one. Tons of lightning. Tons of thunder. He got it. He didn’t need free booze. He would have been fine with a lawn chair to set up outside the hotel. And maybe a kite.
• But it got me thinking. Because when I lived on the Left Coast (that’s so lame. I can’t believe I typed that) one thing I missed was thunderstorms. I got my fair share of rain in Northern California, but very, very rarely would there be thunder or lightning. And let’s face it, thunderstorms rule.
• One of the questions on the Match profile is if thunderstorms are a turn-on. (Yes.)
• My cats would offer a differing opinion. (Hell to the no!)
• I’m now realizing that 95% of what I write down as blog notes is useless drivel.
• My mom told me a story about a 90-year old woman with a WALKER at a church carnival getting carded in the beer tent. I hear she died on the spot from a heart attack. From the SHOCK!
• Seriously. Find me a 90-year old that looks 35 and I’ll alter my stance. But I’m pretty sure she LOOKS OLD ENOUGH.
• This is why I don’t go to church.
• So my friend Michelle and I went out Friday night to have a few glasses gallons of wine. We ran into a guy who was discussing his plans for later in the evening with a buddy on the phone. He was almost yelling at his friend to make sure to get the Jefferson Ice! Because it’s precision cut, fool! He doesn’t like to drink beverages with that crappy old regular ice from 7-Eleven. PRECISION CUT! What the fuck? I’d be more concerned about what your buddy is going to put in your glass with your PRECISION CUT ice.
• Even better? We overheard the Ice Man telling his hot friend that he recently broke up with some chick because she was too OCD. I’ll let that sink in for a second before moving on.
• Maybe I’m OK with being a spinster.
• Sometimes when I chew gum, my tongue gets all weird. Almost feels fuzzy. Yeah, I don’t know.
• I’m not sure why, but I still love that “Hey There Delilah” song by The Plain White T’s.
• I realized that part of this funk I’ve been in can be blog-related at times. When I’m not feeling the creative juices and write complete shit (the non-Cheers George Wendt stories, for example), I, in turn, feel like shit. My blog is like the one constant in my life and one thing that I love to do and that I will risk sleep, etc. for. When I don’t blog (or when I write craptastic blogs) it doesn’t make me feel good. Good thing a little Young MC lyrics could get me right back on track yesterday.
• There’s a note in here that says “Lot F D5.” Oh wait, that’s where I parked at O’Hare.
• There’s another note “paper cuts.” Hmmm. Oh! That was from that conference out in the burbs. And I was going to say something like “wow, you don’t realize how many paper cuts you get in a week until you go to squeeze an orange into your Blue Moon.” It was funny at the time.
• Lindsay Lohan is a fucking idiot. And I don’t feel bad. HIRE A DRIVER!
• Bacon’s been a little neglected so I figured I should ask his opinion if it’s time to end this post.
• Bacon said “Sizzzzzzzle.”
• Fo shizzle, Bacon, fo shizzle.

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, General | 10 Comments »
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