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November 11th, 2009 Random Crap I Found While Moving: Part 1 On Halloween I thought to myself “If I covered myself from head to toe in blood like the movie Carrie, I’d look just like I feel on the inside. This is what moving does to me.
Although I’ve done nothing but complain about how much I’ve hated living in downtown Sacramento since I arrived here, and I was truly excited to be relocating to the suburbs; moving still sucks the life out of me. Landlords suck, security deposits suck, cleaning sucks, lifting furniture sucks, begging friends to help sucks, driving back and forth between each apartment sucks, forwarding mail sucks and waiting for the god damned cable guy to show up sucks. Most of all, the time in between apartments when all of your belongings are split between the two residences and the feeling of utter displacement that comes with it, is the fucking worst. Therefore, I try to find simple pleasures while moving, in order to keep myself motivated. This usually involves whiskey breaks, purging items I don’t need/want and finding random crap that I forgot I even owned. Here’s the booty:
The “Dirty Cristi” doll. This was a personalized Barbie doll, that was “fixed” to look like me, given to me by an old college buddy. As you can see, it comes complete with not one, but two warning labels. Too bad she forgot to add the beer gut & thighs. I guess those are sold separately.
This is my menagerie of vibrant hair color from when I used to be cool. I turned 30 years old in June and with hitting that milestone, I’ve decided that I’m just too god damn old to have hot pink, purple or bright blue hair.
Hell Yeah McDonalds race car! I have NO idea where this came from. Let me restate that…it obviously came from McDonalds. I guess the better question is- Why the hell do I have this?
I was very excited when I dug up an old sailor hat from back when I played roller derby for The Cleveland Steamers from 2006-2007. I have no use for it now, but it reeks of memories…and Pabst Blue Ribbon.
I also came across one of my other athletic “accomplishments”. This is the medal they gave Dawn & I after we completed our half marathon (about a half an hour after everyone else left) last year. It was nice of them to stop breaking down tables and pulling down banners long enough to make us feel like we were a part of the actual event.
This piece of memorabilia is from the year my old roommate Sherry and I discovered Ebay. I have always been obsessed with late night TV talk shows. For Christmas on this particular year, Sherry got me an autographed photo of Craig Kilborn who used to host “The Daily Show” before Jon Stewart and “The Late Late Show” before Craig Ferguson’s limey ass took over. Although he has disappeared into the depths of obscurity, he will always hold a special place in my heart as one of my favorite talk show hosts of all time. He made arrogant cool. Kind of like Rob does.
Yay! Embarrassing photographs! This collage is from the Radio Music Awards (the what?) in the year 2000. Believe it or not my blonde hair is not the most embarrassing part of the photos. If you look in the middle, you’ll see I’m standing with Gavin Rossdale, the lead singer of Bush, otherwise known as Mr. Gwen Stefani. During my interview with him I asked who he would be voting for in the upcoming election…completely forgetting that he (at least at that time) was not an American citizen. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I followed up by asking him what his plans were for Thanksgiving. His response? “I’m from England. We don’t really celebrate the holiday of America splitting off from us.” He was way more gracious than I ever would have been. That interview was a clear example of why I have had a miserable career in radio.
1985 called. They want their floppy discs back.
The single greatest bumper sticker of all time. I actually pulled this off of my first car (a 79 Thunderbird) to preserve it.
Clown Porn!!! Yes, this actually exists. No, I’m not that kinky. It was sent to me when I used to do porn reviews for a crappy shock jock radio show I co-hosted back in the day. Of all the porn I was sent, this is the only video I ever saved. Party throwers, here’s a tip: If you ever want everyone to leave but don’t know how to tell your guests to get out, just pop this in the DVD player. Nothing, and I mean nothing will clear a room faster than Clown Porn. That’s enough for now. I have many more boxes to unpack and many more random items I’m sure I’ll be sharing with you next week. That is, if I don’t throw myself in front of a bus before then. Xoxo, Producer Cristi
October 7th, 2009 Why I Hate the Gym
What’s worse is the Saggy Tit League is not the grossest thing I have experienced at the gym lately. About one week ago there was a douchebag, you know the guy: shiny “Tapout” t-shirt, sunglasses inside the gym, neck looking like it’s going to explode, hair gel for days, iPod blasting God-knows-what. I wouldn’t get close enough to find out what he was listening to. I’m sure it was probably something along the lines of Shakira being butt fucked by Yanni. Anyway, this guy was apparently on the same “circuit” as I was on the machines at the gym. This ment that every time I would leave a machine, he would be on it moments later. Note: I in no way, shape or form am implying that he was following/the least bit interested in me. At the gym I run pretty incognito and don’t gain much attention from others, unless they are thinking “That girl’s socks don’t match. What a weirdo.” So as if this guy’s (potentially) terrible taste in music and fashion wasn’t enough to irritate me, every time he tried to lift a ridiculous amount of weight he would strain and grunt in a VERY sexual way. In the way where you would only be turned on if your name was Brigitte Neilson. After I had to encounter this “Ugh, Ugh, Ugh, Ugh, Ugh” King Kong nonsense for four full “cycles”, and I realized he would be following me (all be it, unintentionally) around the gym. I decided to go swimming instead. Ladies with saggy tits will win my heart over douchebags any day of the week.
September 9th, 2009 CHALK IT UP
In a feeble attempt to connect with (read: not hate) my community in downtown Sacramento, I attended the "Chalk It Up!" festival on Labor Day. As you can see my male counterpart was a bit skeptical that walking around watching a bunch of hippies draw on the sidewalk would be a good way to spend his day off. So I did what any good girlfriend would do. I found him beer.
We positioned ourselves in the "beer garden" in close proximity to the taps, but not too close to the stage. However, I must admit, the music was pretty good considering A. It was downtown, B. It was a festival, and C. It was a downtown festival. Big props go to Dez Aztriz of the Sacred City Derby Girls for pouring the liquid gold.
While in the beer garden we made friends with this little pooch. I forgot her name (I'm pretty sure it was Kona or something like that) due to the beer consumption, but she had a wicked sweet underbite, which I am always a sucker for.
I'm wasn't sure if this guy was dead or sleeping until he got up and left. I think we all can agree that he was pretty pissed off we were on his lawn.
It isn't California unless you have a big spectacle to say "LOOK HOW FUCKING GREEN WE ARE!!!! We're so much GREENer than you! GO GREEN! GO GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!!!!!!!!!!"
"So what do you want to do today?"
These were the spaces decorated by the children of Sacramento...or the handicapped adults. I'm not sure.
And here we have a few of the pieces done by the artists of Sacramento...or the businesses who were smart enough to hire artists to create chalk billboards for them.
And here is a fat bitch who wouldn't get out of my way.
And of course, more hippies. July 23rd, 2009 Producer Cristi’s Dirty 30: Part 2 To recap: My best friend Sherry and I celebrated our 30th birthdays together in Washington D.C. just before Rob, Arnie and Dawn went on vacation. You see, they throw me a day or two off every so often so I don’t feel bad when I have to work during their eight weeks of paid vacation. Here’s part two of my adventure, complete with black and white photos from my artsy-fart friend Julie.
To make sure we got the most out of our celebration, Sherry and I decided to have our party on the water. We rented a boat called The Pelican, a two tier boat open-air on the top level with the bar, food and bathrooms on the bottom level. We weren’t thrilled about the Americana décor, so we arrived a little early to meet the ship’s crew and decorate for our guests. Doesn’t my spaceboot compliment my dress well?
The nice part of being on the boat was that we could watch our guests arrive walking up the dock. It was like our own wooden red carpet.
We were lucky weather-wise, seeing as though the evening prior was a torrential downpour. We left the dock just before sunset and took a three hour tour of the beautiful Potomac.
Once we left dock everyone settled in and started to enjoy the drinks and food. Unfortunately, my best friend thinks she is vegan, so the ENTIRE meal was made of vegan food. Just terrible. Food that bad should be inexpensive…but it’s not. I can’t wait until she starts eating meat again.
The best surprise of the evening happened once we headed back from Mt. Vernon and returned to the dock just in time to see an impressive display of fireworks.
When we returned to DC we hit the town and went bar hopping like a bunch of 21 year olds. I only say this because I was caught on film dancing…A LOT. Believe me when I say, this is rare…but not nearly as rare as catching my boyfriend making out with a mannequin head at the end of the evening. We’ll blame it on the East Coast Brew.
July 16th, 2009 Producer Cristi’s Dirty 30: Part 1 My best friend Sherry and I celebrated our 30th birthdays together in Washington D.C. just before Rob, Arnie and Dawn went on vacation. You see, they throw me a day or two off every now and again so I don’t feel bad when I have to work during their eight weeks of paid vacation. It works.
That’s Sherry. Yes, she’s from Iran. No, she’s not a terrorist. The night we arrived she and I were sitting on a restaurant patio under a huge outdoor tent, enjoying a bottle of wine and suddenly it started raining sideways. We still look pretty.
When we got back to the apartment we met up with our friends Julie and Ryan who drove in from Cleveland for the party. They brought us our favorite Cleveland pizza (Angelos) along with Dragons Milk (the tastiest stout my lips have ever touched) and a six pack of Great Lakes Brewing Seasonal Beer which you can only get in the Midwest. It was so much better than all of the vegan bullshit we ate the next night , but we’ll get back to that.
We also met up with my old roller derby team mate Pain Austen (in addition to cracking skulls, she also likes to read) from the Cleveland Steamers. She lives in DC now but we both got excited when we saw Ohio Restaurant. This is the closest I got to a nip slip all weekend.
We went to a few bars including the Rock n Roll Hotel, which was playing nothing but Michael Jackson and a bar called Red and Black which was where we saw a pregnant punk rock chick with a mohawk putting on a dance for everyone. Not bad. These are the only pictures I can post on here from the evening. The guy smelling my armpit is Sherry’s boyfriend Tim.
The next morning we decided to go sight seeing with the friends that brought us the pizza. This was a terrible idea because I was still in a spaceboot from my sprained ankle. I didn’t want to be Debbie Downer so I popped some pain pills and acted like a big girl. Idiot.
My boyfriend’s ass ruining Downtown D.C. Enough said.
We named this “Asshole Fountain” because we took a bunch of pictures in front of it and as soon as we walked away it started spouting like Ron Jeremy. It was part of the Sculpture Garden.
You probably remember this from Forrest Gump. Your history teacher would tell you that they are the Reflecting Pool and The Washington Monument. Scotty and I call that pose “Feeding the Baby Bird”.
Who’s House? Lincoln’s House. The Lincoln Memorial was far more impressive than I had imagined. You can thank me for that last photo because I thought “The listeners will want to see that there were boobies at the Lincoln Memorial”. I had to take that picture 6 times just to get the flash right.
Next we visited the Vietnam Veterans War Memorial. That will humble you real quick.
Later in the Reflecting Pool we saw baby ducks. If I had known we were going to have an entirely vegan meal that night I would have brought one home with me to eat instead of just taking pictures of them like a big dummy. I’m sure baby duck tastes better than vegan meatballs.
June 17th, 2009 CRAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME About a year ago I wrote a blog about how I had the worst birthday ever in 2008. I was wrong. So wrong.
And as if my boyfriend’s playoff beard wasn’t bad enough…clearly the loss of the Stanley Cup effected his personal grooming habits. But this was only the beginning.
Needless to say, we didn’t do a great job cleaning it up, and the next day it was dead.
And let me tell you...it sucks. I fell walking out the front door of my house. Who the hell does that? And furthermore, after all of the years of roller derby I played, NOW I get crutches and have an incredibly dumb story to go with it!? That’s bullshit. I don’t know who is in charge of birthdays, but I want to trade this one in. Or at least get a refund for my medical bills. Emergency Bill: $100 Crutches: $45 Prescription: $15 Not being able to drink on your birthday because you’ll fall and break your other leg: Priceless.
May 29th, 2009 Dear My Boyfriend's Playoff Beard, I'd say I understand hockey more than your average chick. For the love of Christ, I come from a city where it is not unusual to throw an octopus on the ice. The strange rituals that occur during the playoffs are nothing new to me, but for those who are reading this (yes, I have taken our battle public) I will explain the significance of a playoff beard: playoff beard (noun) Facial hair that an adult male begins to grow wildly at the beginning of the hockey playoff season for superstitious reasons and/or to emulate their favorite hockey players. One does not shave off his beard until his team of choosing is eliminated from the finals or wins the Stanley Cup. Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Playoff_beard Need an example? Here, let me use it in a sentence: "Arnie will never grow a playoff beard because he is incapable of producing facial hair, which is OK because the Dallas Stars will never make it into the NHL Playoffs." I love hockey but I have to take issue with the playoff beard nonsense. Who thought this was a good idea? And more importantly, when will you stop raping my boyfriend's face? I'm waging a war, playoff beard. Let's take a look at a timeline of your embarrassment to my family:
Now that I've laid it all out playoff beard, I think you'll better understand why I will insist you are shaved off immediately after we win the Stanley Cup again. In the meantime, if you have any questions please watch this video or feel free to see my friends Gillette and Bic.
Let's Go Red Wings!
May 4th, 2009 TOP 5 SPAM EMAIL SENT TO THE 5. "Get strong act even if drunk." 4. "Lift your bed times." 3. "You Won't Hear Goodbyes Because of Your Size" 2. "Your meat will be so big, you'll have enough for multiple servings." Bravo! Nothing turns me on quite like children's stories. -Producer Cristi
April 20th, 2009 TOP 5 SPAM EMAIL SENT TO THE Along with the Listener Mail we receive at robarnieanddawn.com we also get a ton of spam. Most of the time these messages just clutter our inbox, but sometimes they make us laugh. Here are the best of the worst from this weekend:
April 14th, 2009 I Think I’m Having a Bit of Culture Shock Last week Rob pulled me into the office for a private discussion. He asked me how everything was going because I had seemed a little “off” during the last few days. The truth being I was a little “off” because I was exhausted from hosting Spring Break 2009 in my home.
When I had time outside of the show I took the girls to all of the local hot-spots like the K Street Mall, the Zoo and Old Sac. Ugh. As you can tell, I had a pretty difficult time finding things to do with underage girls. Anyone else who has come to visit has been over 21 and has taken part in my personal Sacramento Dive-Bar Tour (a great f-ing time by the way). I really didn’t know what to do with 17 year olds. When I was 17 all I ever wanted to do was find someone old enough to buy me liquor, smoke pot and have premarital sex. None of these options were available to these girls while they were on my watch. At least they had a good meal at the Squeeze Inn.
After touring all things Sacramento, I had the opportunity to take the girls to San Francisco on Saturday and Lake Tahoe on Sunday. In a conversation I had with my mother yesterday, it was revealed that although we spent quite a few hours hiking around Lake Tahoe, Alaina never told anyone she visited the area. As a matter of fact the only part of the trip she told any of our relatives about was, of course, the most embarrassing.
On Saturday we drove down to San Francisco and I took them to all of the tourist attractions like Fisherman’s Wharf, Coit Tower and the Palace of Fine Arts. However, they were most exited to go to Chinatown to buy name-brand knock-off purses.
In fact, we spent so much time in Chinatown we didn’t end up making it to Haight-Ashbury until 7:00PM, when most of the stores were closing for the evening. This means that most of the normal everyday citizens were also strangely absent, leaving only the degenerate hippy-wannabes, beggars and people who wanted to sell us mushrooms.
The reason I brought the girls to the area was to shop. If there is anything I DO know about 17 year olds it’s that they love to shop. It was not my intent for them to be called “sexy superfreaks” or offered to “buy nugs”. I most certainly did not expect the encounter we had with one gentleman, which happened to be the event that resonated most with my little cousin.
This was also the only story she told our relatives about her trip. Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled that I will never be asked to be a chaperone again.
April 1st, 2009 PRODUCER CRISTI: During many of our economic discussions on the show Rob has mentioned that I also have a part time job in addition to serving as Producer for the glorious Rob, Arnie and Dawn Show. This is merely and attempt to pay off the money I owe the government in loans I accrued whilst studying Telecommunications Management (note: a complete waste of time) at Western Michigan University. Last weekend I had two separate instances that are perfect examples of why I both enjoy and hate working in retail. Example A: The Good I rang up the items she did want as she looked over the “Under $6” wine display. She picked up a bottle of Pinot Evil and I started nodding feverishly, because it’s really not bad for a cheap wine. She cocked her eyebrow and gave me a look that said “Really?” I gave her the thumbs up. I felt obligated to give the recommendation because I had polished off a bottle by myself the night before. She pointed at me and then gave me the international sign for drinking by putting her thumb to her lip and tipping her head back. I nodded and said “Yes” even though I knew she couldn’t hear me. She ended up buying two bottles. I went home with a feeling of accomplishment knowing that I would be responsible for getting a deaf person drunk. Example B: The Bad On this evening I went to grab the mop out of the broom closet and it was missing. I searched for it all over the store and could not find it anywhere. I swept the floor but it still looked dirty (I suspect no one else at the store mops) so I had to find a solution. I grabbed a roll of paper towel and a bottle of glass cleaner to spot-clean the floor with (in the particularly nasty spots). As I wiped an area near the toilet, something caught my eye. It was a jar of fudge. Someone had hidden a jar of fudge from the sales floor behind the toilet in the Men’s Room. I picked it up and opened it to see the trademark symbol of indulgence…somebody had stuck their fingers in it and left impressions in the fudge that looked like it does when you do it to peanut butter. And they were adult sized fingers. This made me think about all kinds of bad scenarios. Was it someone with an eating disorder? Maybe a homeless guy came in and decided that a finger full of fudge would provide him the nutritional value he would need to get through the day. Or perhaps an adult was force feeding it to his child in the bathroom because he couldn’t afford to buy it for them. No matter what the reason, that shit was depressing That said, it’s still better than answering your terrible phone calls. XOXO,
February 19th, 2009 CRISTI MAKES A BOOB-CAKE FOR ARNIE Part 1 Part 2
January 16th, 2009 SACRAMENTO'S KISS GOODBYE Today I leave for my one week vacation in Cancun Mexico where (according to Rob) I will be undoubtedly gutted by drug lords at war. Even with pending doom, I am still looking forward to getting the hell out of Sacramento for a week. The city has not been very kind, especially in the last 24 hours leading up to my trip. Let's take a look at the evidence, shall we? Exhibit A: Not only did a gang spray graffiti on the side of my house, but the most infamously violent gang in Sacramento spray painted the side of my house. This is the third time my house has been tagged in the year that I have lived here. Clearly our attempts to cover it up are in vain.
Exhibit B: I got a God damned parking ticket again. This is the first time I have ever lived in a city that gives parking tickets on Christmas and New Years Day. What a bunch of whores. This time I had filled my meter to the fullest it would allow (30 minutes - what can anyone accomplish downtown in 30 fucking minutes?!?) and yet, I still got a ticket.
So no, Sacramento, I will not be missing you while I am gone. I promise not to think about your crap ass city for one moment while I am laying at the beach or enjoying Happy Hour at the swim up bar. In fact, I hope the Sacramento Kings get in a bus crash while I'm gone. Producer Cristi OUT!
December 11th, 2008 WARRIORS, COME OUT TO PLAAAAAAAY! Five things I think about when watching the movie "The Warriors":
November 7th, 2008 I ROCKED THE VOTE
November 4, 2008. My first California election. I have previously voted in both Michigan and Ohio, but never where it doesn't snow in the winter. This year I had the pleasure of voting on such light hearted issues as teenage abortion, victim's rights and whether or not same sex marriages should be eliminated. Way to be heavy, California. After voting I wanted to go home and hang myself in the closet. But now I'm getting ahead of myself... I decided to go to my polling place at 2:30 PM. My rationale was that the people who were going to vote during their lunch hour would already be gone; as would all of the assholes who had to vote before picking up their terrible children from school. I also considered that anyone leaving work early to vote probably wouldn't have the balls to ask their bosses to let them off before 3pm. Even though the polling place was only a handful of blocks from my house, I brought my iPod along for the walk. It's an effective defense mechanism in helping to ignore people asking me for money. It was a nice day in Sacramento, so I didn't mind the walk until I reached what appeared to be my destination. There were a bunch of people standing outside of this big, ugly grey building, and they were all smoking cigarettes. On the side of the building were signs with American flags on them and arrows pointing around to the front of the building. I walked in the first door I spotted and got in line. As I looked around, I did not see anything that resembled a booth or any sort of private area where one might vote. It was a tiny room full of miserable people sitting in chairs along the wall. A gentleman looked at the iPod in my hands, snickered and said "You are in the wrong place." He was right. I was at the Methadone Clinic. Eventually I made my way over there and cast my ballot.
What I have taken away from this election is that too many people take the amount of information they are given before an election for granted. I'm guessing that many of the most ridiculous propositions on the ballot passed because people didn't take the time to fully inform themselves on the issues. If you just read each prop off of the ballot, they seemed to pitch the propositions in a way that made them somewhat sympathetic to each cause. However, if you took the time to go through the General Election Information you would realize that the State of California, which is in tremendous debt (an issue which everyone is screaming at The Predator to fix) just voted ourselves into even further debt by approving bullet-trains and programs which were masked by heart-tugging stories. Or maybe I'm just pissed because only 4 of the 12 Propositions I voted on went my way. Either way, the most disappointing part of the election for me wasn't the results. The real disappointment came when I realized that for some reason my mind must have scrambled itself into thinking I was going to give blood. After voting I was really looking forward to a free cookie, which apparently isn't a part of the California voting process. Cristi
October 6th, 2008 -- A RETARDED MOMENT This weekend my boyfriend's mother and husband came to visit us from Michigan. On Sunday while we were locking up the house and about to go for a walk, his mother told me a story that forced me to use incredible restraint. The conversation went something like this: Scotty's Mom: We need to take the camera in case we see any more celebrities!
Scotty: Did you see Arnold?
Scotty's Mom: No, but we were staying at the same hotel as the kid from Life Goes On.
Me: CORKY!?!?!
Scotty's Mom: I think his name is Chris Burke. I'm not sure...
I thought my insides were going to burst. So many inappropriate comments came flooding into my head. I was overwhelmed with my own scumbaggyness. It wouldn't stop. I had to walk 4 full blocks before I even dared to open my mouth, terrified that even a simple "that's retarded" would slip out. It was torture.
-Cristi
The only person we took a picture of was a bum who had tied palm leaves on to the front of his motorized wheelchair.
September 18th, 2008 -- MY NEW BEST FRIEND Since moving to out here, I have become a volunteer at the Sacramento County Animal Shelter. Over the last few months I have had a ball with dogs of all shapes and sizes. When I go to the shelter to dog-walk, I usually try to take out the bigger dogs because I know they have a lot of energy and being in the cages is a lot more uncomfortable for them than it is for the little dogs. Little dogs are great, and incredibly cute, but until this Saturday, I hadn't spent much time with them. Meet Chica:
She had most recently lived with a family who kept her outside all day long, and brought her back to the shelter complaining that she barked too much. She did not bark once the entire time I was with her. I guarantee that she just wanted company.  She walked on the leash like a dream, and was more apathetic than shy. She loved being pet & took direction so well. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since we hung out on Saturday. She's a two year old cock-a-poo (Cocker Spaniel-Toy Poodle mix). Usually that breed has a ton of energy and is very jumpy and excitable. She was way more chill than that. At one point in the afternoon a little 2 year old girl came over to pet her and popped her on the nose pretty hard, but she just looked at the girl like "Don't do that, silly" and didn't hesitate to let the girl pet her again. 100% sweetheart.
The good news? Chica was adopted almost immediately after we talked about her on the air! I went to visit her yesterday and as soon as she saw me, she climbed in my lap and rolled on her back so I could pet her belly. I was so glad that she had found a forever home.
The sad part of the story is the shelter is constantly filled with many other adorable, well behaved dogs and the shelter does their best to house as many of them as they can for as long as they can. Unfortunately the reality is, we do not always find homes for all of the shelter animals. If you have been looking for a pet who you can commit to, please consider one of the animals at the Sacramento County Animal Shelter. You can see many of the pets available for adoption at Petfinder.com and SacCountyShelter.net
September 5th, 2008 -- PRODUCER BRANDON NEEDS A FACIAL This morning while checking out Palin Watch 2008 on Fox News, Producer Brandon suddenly turned to me and said "I think I'm going to grow a Charlie Chaplin moustache." I was shocked because not only was it completely off topic, but I also didn't know Brandon could even grow facial hair! His statement spawned a debate over which look would be the best for Producer Skinny Arms. The following chart will demonstrate the pros and cons of Brando's many moustache options: The Handlebar Pros: You can bust into a Snidely Whiplash accent at any time with reckless abandon. This style of moustache is long enough to wrap around your finger. Cons: You will always look like you are up to something…especially planning a heist or gunfight. The Fu Manchu Pros: This look comes with a "Free Moustache Rides" t-shirt. Not a bad idea to grow one of these if you are planning on learning Kung fu. Cons: Growing out this kind of moustache is difficult because you must be able to grow hair on the lower part of your face as well as under your nose. The Little Richard Pros: Unless you are trying to look like a dirtbag, there really aren't any advantages to this look. Cons: Although you might be as sweet as Mother Theresa, you will always look like a child molester when sporting this moustache. The Hitler Pros: Shaving your friend's moustache into this style while they are passed out might just be the greatest prank of all time. Cons: No matter what your intention is when wearing this moustache, you'll automatically look like an asshole. People may approach you on the street speaking in German. Chances of getting beat up by a politically correct hippie are raised by 75%. Chances of getting beat up by a Nazi once they realize you aren't really racist is raised by 75%. The Charlie Chaplin Pros: Rarely seen these days. You won't have to worry about this look being a new trend any time soon. Actually, I don't think anyone has rocked this look since Charlie Chaplin died. Cons: Can easily be mistaken for The Hitler moustache. The Yosemite Sam Pros: It's a cartoon 'stache so the upkeep of this look would be minimal. Cons: To really pull it off you would need to invest in a ten gallon hat. The Burt Reynolds Pros: LLBR (Ladies Love Burt Reynolds) Cons: There is a lot of pressure that comes with this look. You have to be able to live up to the name.
August 20th, 2008 -- LISTENER TOP 5 LIST REQUEST: If you are familiar with our Listener Mail segment, you already know that Rob "crinkles, crankles and crumples" each and every email we receive. What Dawn fails to mention is after he reads the email, he Kobe Bryant's the email into the trash. Wait… No, not Kobe. It's more like Larry Bird on crack with a broken arm. Rob's a terrible shot. I should know. I clean up the studio when the show is over. But I digress… We received a request during Listener Mail last week requesting a new Top 5 list: The Top 5 Best Things About Producer Cristi's Breasts. Rob, Arnie & Dawn Show listeners are always so classy. Because the FCC would probably fine us for talking about something so tame, coupled with the fact that if Rob and Arnie did this Top 5 list, I could sue them for sexual harassment and own the show, it looks like I will be handling this Top 5 list on my own. But really, it makes sense to do it this way since nobody is more of an expert on my boobs than me. Without further ado, here are the Top 5 Things About My Breasts: Honorable Mention: My breasts don't have Cancer. Enough said.
5. I don't have Porn Star breasts. I know it sounds cliché to say my breasts are cool because they are "real" but it's true. I don't hate on girls who get boob jobs, but I personally believe that when it comes to breast size, it's all about proportion, proportion, proportion!
4. I'm too young to have stretch marks. It's like I have some sort of superpower that has given them the ability to not be affected by the Freshman 20 I gained in college (and subsequent pounds after college).
3. My breasts are buoyant. This is especially helpful because I like to drink and hang out by the river. Thanks to the twins, I can always assure I will end up chest-up if I pass out in the water.
2. They don't look like they belong in National Geographic.
1. My breasts are tattoo-free. Tattooed boobs are gross. Just ask Christina Ricci or anyone on meth.
xoxo, Cristi
July 31st, 2008 -- We received the following email at rad@robarnieanddawn.com: Dear Producer Cristi, I hope you had a great vacation, Lumberjack, but I have a question. Who the hell vacations in the midwest? Chances are you'd have more fun staying at home. Jack in Rancho Cordova Well Jack, I know that coming from the glorious oasis that is Rancho Cordova you may be spoiled when it comes to beautiful landscapes, however I'm here to tell you that the midwest has a lot to offer the modern traveler. Take a look at my vacation photos and you will see why the midwest pulls at my heartstrings: The Public Artwork: The Magestic Wildlife: The Beautiful Beaches on the Great Lakes: The Good Looking Men: The Local Pastimes: But in all seriousness, there are only 3 reasons I went to the midwest for my vacation: The Greatest Pizza and Beer in North America: As well as 2 shots of Jameson for only $5: I hope this answers your question Jack. I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to my next vacation/break from answering calls and email from you idiot maggots. xoxo, Cristi
PS- Rancho Cordova smells like cat piss.
June 19th, 2008 -- Worst Birthday Ever In 1995 I got dumped on the day before my birthday. In 2006 I got fired on my birthday. And then there was this.
It wasn't a particular event that made my birthday awful this year. Overall, it was pretty average. I worked an 11 hour day, went home, tipped back a few with the old man, ate some soul food and went to bed. What was tragic, was the vast array of terrible presents I was given. When Dawn Rossi gets you the coolest gift of all the gifts you receive on your birthday, you know it's a crappy year to be alive.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not someone who thinks they should be showered with gifts every year, and I'm not really a diva when it comes to my birthday. However, I feel if you are going to go to the trouble of buying me something, make sure it's not a piece of crap that I don't want. Case in point:
The birthday gift from the boyfriend:
What the hell is this?
I'll tell you what it is. It's a fire hazard, not a god damned birthday present. It's supposed to burn oil. Perhaps it was my boyfriend's subtle way of telling me that I've been wasting too much electricity. Or maybe he thinks it's 1802. Regardless, I was expecting a marriage proposal but I guess we're just going to have to live in sin for one more year. Nothing says I love you like handblown glass. Unfortunately, the situation got worse.
When we returned from the bar I received a package sent to me by my Mother in Michigan. Her gifts were a true reflection of what she thinks Californians are: a bunch of fucking hippies.
This is so gross, I don't even know what to say about it. When I opened the package, I was completely speechless. That was until I realized she got me not one, but two sweatshirts. Because we all know, you can never have enough SWEATSHIRTS when living in California. Oh yeah:
The real treat with the puke-yellow sweatshirt was in the details:
I think she was trying to remind me of my roots. Or that Detroit makes me want to puke. But that wasn't the kicker. This was the kicker:
She sent a matching sweatshirt for my boyfriend. Although those gifts were terrible, nothing could match the gift God gave me at 3:00 AM the following day. The keys to my car, house and work were completely lost, and I had the pleasure of taking a cab to the radio station at 4:00 AM. $40 in cab fare later, we found my keys, in my boyfriend's boot:
I can't believe I didn't think to look there! If this is what being 29 is like, I can't wait to hit my 30s.
-Cristi
May 29th, 2008 -- Punching is the Answer. There are moments during the show where I get angry. My mood swings are usually an effect of idiot maggots calling the show, something terrible Dawn says or listening to Arnie rant about women in sports. I have taken steps to relieve my anger in a positive way. However, the physical activity of running and playing roller derby have not subsided my desire to hit something. At least once every morning I have an overwhelming desire to punch my computer screen. Although I think about it multiple times a day, fortunately I have not given into that temptation. I have contacted station management about being treated for anger management. The company provides an over-the-phone counseling session for distressed employees, but as you might imagine, I find it hard to believe that talking with someone over-the-phone about how difficult it is for me to deal with others over-the-phone would be helpful. When insurance-sponsored tactics failed, I turned to the internet. After sorting through all of the websites dedicated to that horrible 2003 Jack Nicholson-Adam Sandler movie (which also pissed me off) I found a website which offered the following advice for people with anger issues: 1. Take a “time out”: 2. Deep breathing and relaxation exercises: This is probably the best suggestion I’ve found so far. However, if I were to practice deep breathing exercises while answering the phones, listeners would think they called a 900-number rather than The Rob, Arnie and Dawn Show. 3. Use “I” statements, as not to blame the other party for your anger. For instance, say "I'm upset you didn't help with the housework this evening," instead of, "You should have helped with the housework." To do otherwise will likely upset the other person and escalate tensions. 5. Keep an “Anger Log” to identify the kinds of situations that set you off and to monitor your reactions: I don’t know how this list is supposed to help. Just looking at it makes me mad all over again. Because I trust self-diagnosis more than anything else, I know that reflecting on my anger isn’t going to be of much help. Instead, I would prefer to release some tension and then move on with the rest of my day. Punching is the answer! I know, it’s rare that anyone would think it’s a good idea to use violence to solve one’s problems but see if you can follow my logic here… If we had a punching bag here in the Producer’s Studio, I could take a horrible phone call, turn around, punch the bag and then take the next call. Sadly though, we do not have enough room for a punching bag. Below I have inserted a picture of the phone screening area:
I need to find something I can place next to the computer screen to punch. From what I understand, Former Producer Nick used to just punch everything in sight, but quite frankly this studio doesn’t need any more broken equipment, so if you have any suggestions for objects (other than Brandon) I can keep in the studio to punch, I’m open to them. -Cristi
May 2nd, 2008 -- How Running and Dawn Have Ruined My Life Those of you who read Dawn’s blog already know she is training to run a half-marathon in October. What you might not know is that she has bamboozled me into running it with her. And now I hate her for it. If you check out her Health and Wellness page, you can see the exact training schedule we are implementing. The first few weeks were relatively easy. I ran on a treadmill and easily knocked out the required 1-3 miles. That was until this week when instead of hitting the treadmill, I decided to take a run around the park near my house. Something had changed. Instead of just being winded, I felt like there was a small child punching me in the heart. By the time I hit the first mile I was breathing like a fat girl waiting in line at Golden Corral after church on a Sunday. By the time I hit the second mile, and this is not an exaggeration: I seriously thought I was going to shit my pants. As my tortured body tried to carry itself home, my mind was in turmoil. I was certain that I would die before the age of 30 from my lungs and ass exploding simultaneously. Dawn has assured me that this sensation will go away, but my problems didn’t end there. I started to feel another strange sensation thruought the day. My right nipple became increasingly itchy. Just the right one. After a few days of trying to discreetly scratch that itch while answering phone calls from you horrible maggots, I started to wonder why the reoccurring itch was happening in that same strange place. I did what any reasonable American would do and typed “itchy nipple” into the search engine on WebMD.com The online diagnosis gave me three options: Breast Cancer, Scabies or Jogger’s Nipple. What the hell is Jogger’s Nipple? I'm glad you asked. It is a condition which occurs when tight, sweaty clothing causes chaffing. A great example of this would probably be my sports bra. However, I’m convinced it’s Breast Cancer. Thanks Dawn. xoxo, Cristi
April 23rd, 2008 -- My Cats Are Better Than Rob’s Cats
I’m sorry Pepe, but my cats have got both you, Parker and Cabernet beat hands down. There are a handful of reasons, but here are the Top 5: 1. Their haircuts cost less than Rob’s cats. Last week Mr. Williams stated that he spends hundreds of dollars on grooming his cats. Since my large cat Iggy has long hair, I also give him hair cuts in the summer, but rather than spending hundreds of dollars at a groomer, I bought a $25 set of clippers and do it myself. And not to toot my own horn but “beep-beep” my kitty looks damn good:
2. They are cuter. Seriously… how could you possibly put this:
Up against this:
3. My cats love me. Look at the photo below. Clearly Cabernet is rolling her eyes at her owner, the silly haircut he gave her, and possibly how much money he spent on it.
And here’s a photo where Parker looks equally irritated:
4. My cats have better names. My cats names are Iggy (the orange one) and Little Rudie Huxtable (for obvious reasons). Rob’s cats are named Pepe, Parker and Cabernet. If our cats were children and we put them on a playground, who would you put your money on to win in a fight? Iggy or Pepe? Rudie or Cabernet? You know my cats would totally be carrying switchblades. Rob’s cats would probably have peanut allergies. 5. My cats aren’t dying. The little one (Rudie) is only about a year old, so I’m sure she’s got at least 6 or 7 more years left before her health takes a turn for the worse. Pepe has heart disease. It won’t be long before the kitty grim reaper taps on his shoulder. Oh well, at least he will be well groomed for heaven.
(Click Here to Read Pepe's Response to this Blog!)
April 16th, 2008 -- HOMELESS OR BLUETOOTH? Homeless or Bluetooth is a game my boyfriend and I play when we walk around downtown. The whole Bluetooth phenomenon is still pretty bizarre to me. A few days ago, I pulled up to a stoplight and saw this girl BITCHING in my rearview mirror. I thought I must have cut her off, until we pulled up to the next stoplight and she was still bitching, but clearly not at me. Other Homeless Man of the Year Candidates include the guy who was eating cigarette butts in the alley behind my house on the day we moved in, as well as the guy we ran into this weekend on 16th & E Street. Not only was he wearing an eye patch, but he also was singing “Dirty pussy is what I like!” over and over again. He was so jovial I couldn’t help but smile. It’s a ringtone waiting to happen. We like to guess on a case by case basis whether someone is Homeless or Bluetooth. The guy with one shoe on: definitely not Bluetooth. ------------- April 2nd, 2008 - MLB: Loyalty for Sale
March 25th, 2008 -
PAUL MCCARTNEY IS A LESBIAN
March 13th, 2008 -
BEST QUOTE EVER. GRANTED, IT WAS ABOUT ARNIE’S TERRIBLE GOLF SCORE, BUT THE COMMENT RESURRECTED THE KARATE KID FROM THE ANNALS OF MY MIND. WHICH BEGS THE QUESTION: WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO RALPH MACCHIO? OH RALPH MACCHIO…THE GUY WHO INADVERTENTLY MADE THE “GOLDEN SHOWER” A COOL HALLOWEEN COSTUME. THE CRUSH OF EVERY GIRL BORN BETWEEN 1975 AND 1980. THE GUY WHO GAVE ME THE UNREALISTIC EXPECTATION THAT I WOULD ONE DAY STAND ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN, STARING LOVINGLY INTO A PAIR OF DOPEY BROWN EYES, LISTENING TO PETER CETARA. I LOOKED UP MACCHIO ON IMDB (INSTEAD OF PAYING ATTENTION TO THE SHOW, OF COURSE) AND WAS SURPRISED TO FIND THAT RALPH IS CURRENTLY WORKING! THIS WAS ALMOST AS SURPRISING AS WHEN WE WERE TOLD THAT PATRICK SWAYZE’S CURRENT PROJECTS WOULDN’T BE HALTED BECAUSE HE WAS DIAGNOSED WITH CANCER. IT’S NOT THAT WE WERE ALL THAT SURPRISED SWAYZE HAD CANCER (HE’S ALWAYS BEEN A BIT OF A CANCER) IT WAS JUST STARTLING THAT HE WAS STILL WORKING AT ALL…BUT NOW I’M GETTING OFF TOPIC. MACCHIO’S NEW PROJECT IS CALLED “ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE UNDEAD” DIRECTED BY JORDAN GALLAND, WHO HAS ANOTHER, MUCH MORE INTERESTING SOUNDING MOVIE CURRENTLY IN PRODUCTION CALLED “COIN LOCKER BABIES”. SADLY(?) IT SEEMS MACCHIO WON’T HAVE A KEY ROLE IN THIS FILM, AS HE IS NOT IDENTIFIED BY A CHARACTER NAME, BUT INSTEAD LISTED UNDER THE HEADING OF “OTHER CAST”. POOR RALPH. THE LAST RELEVANT MOVIE HE DID WAS “MY COUSIN VINNY” IN 1992, UNLESS YOU COUNT BEER LEAGUE…WHICH NO ONE DOES.
February 21st, 2008 - 7:15 AMDAWN JUST CAME INTO THE PRODUCTION ROOM WITH ONE OF THE VIDEO CAMERAS, AND I DIED A LITTLE ON THE INSIDE. AFTER 27 HOURS OF SITTING IN THIS TINY STUDIO, A STUPID CAMERA IN MY FACE IS EXACTLY THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW. ALTHOUGH I HAVE BEEN CRACKING JOKES OVER THE LAST 20+ HOURS, THE FOLLOWING STATEMENT IS 100% SERIOUS: I HAVE DONE A GREAT DEAL OF SELF REFLECTION DURING THIS 29 HOUR MARATHON, AND HAVE COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT MY VERY OWN PERSONAL VERSION OF HELL WOULD NOT BE FILLED WITH SOUNDS OF SCREAMING AND TORTURE, BUT INSTEAD MY WALLS OF HELL WOULD PAN BETWEEN THE SOUND OF THE STUDIO PHONE RINGING AND DAWN’S LAUGHTER. SPEAKING OF HELL, I WOULD TOTALLY SELL MY SOUL TO CRAWL INTO BED RIGHT NOW. -CRISTI
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10:25 AM MY ADRENALINE IS RUNNING PRETTY HIGH RIGHT NOW, ALTHOUGH I HAVE A FEELING THAT BRANDON IS CRASHING. MOSTLY BECAUSE HE TOLD ME THAT HE IS CRASHING. -CRISTI 9:49 AM BRANDON JUST SHOWED ME A PICTURE DAWN TOOK OF US AT 5AM THIS MORNING. KYRIE’ & I THOUGHT WE LOOKED FAT FOR A MOMENT, UNTIL WE REALIZED THAT WE WERE STANDING NEXT TO BRANDON, WHO IS WHAT WE USED TO CALL “CRACK SKINNY”. FROM NOW ON I’M ONLY TAKING PICTURES WHILE STANDING NEXT TO ARNIE. 8:31 AM VADER JUST CALLED DAWN AN “IDIOT” FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE MARATHON. 8:09 AM I WANT TO NOMINATE “ELBOW NOSE” AS ONE OF THE WORST PUT-DOWNS I’VE HEARD ON THE SHOW SO FAR THIS MORNING. - CRISTI 7:30 AM TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH, I WAS DREADING TAKING CALLS TODAY, HOWEVER EVERYONE CALLING INTO THE SHOW HAS BEEN SUPER COOL AND COOPERATIVE. I HOPE IT STAYS THIS WAY. 6:55 AM
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