Nina vs The World

Well, less than 24 hours from now, I'm going to be in a world of excruciating pain.  No, it's not a Miley Cyrus concert. It's my wisdom teeth removal. All four. All impacted. (Where will all my classic wit go?) Thank heaven for painkillers and anesthesia.  Hopefully I'll be back to blogging on Monday as usual. And it will probably be a whole lotta complaining and griping about my soon-to-be-chipmunk face.  :)

I can see it now: a cheesy, low-budget sci fi movie, made for tv. Huge awkward styrofoam cellphone monsters decimate humanity with laser beams, while mammoth copy machines xerox our brains against the glass until we die.. It may sound ridiculous but technology is our demise. Now hear me out, I'm not taking for granted how they've simplified my life. I understand they've made wonderful advances for humanity, especially in the medical field. In fact, I don't know how more crazy I'd be without the ability to blog at my fingertips. They allow us to gain time, they keep us connected. (I.e. toothbrush, E-Z pass, toilet paper, cellphones)  But I believe technology has become more than a helpful tool, more than accesories to facilitate our life. They are also simplifying our brains. Think I'm exxagerating? How many phone numbers can you recite by memory? Less than 10? Less than 5? Do you have trouble remembering even yours? When was the last time you played a game

There's only so much you can rant about before you upset someone. And I think the time has come for me! I sit there pushing scan on my radio, listening to pieces of garbled horribly super synthesized "songs." They call it music. I call it verbal diarrhea. "Baby I like it The way you move on the floor Baby I like it Come on and give me some more" Really? How many times have we heard that in a pop song? My tolerance for Enrique Igaysias is slowly coming to an end. Back in the day, he actually had substanstial songs, about love and loss. Now he's down there sucking scum with Pitbull making the world's deepest music, howling and recording his screechy voice on every refried pop beat. "You know what it is girl, we back up in this thang Money stay in my pocket, girl, I'm like a walkin' bank Tell me whatcha drank, tell me whatcha thank If I go get these bottles, we go alcohol insane" Wow. Edgar Allan Poe doesn't have jack on

We all have them on our friend list on Facebook. We have all seen them on other friend's lists. We've seen, admired, clicked, and gasped. Yikes. Definitely looked better in a thumbnail. That's right. This blog is dedicated to the Hi-Resolution Challenged, the Pixelated Pretty, and the altogether Thumbnail Fabulous. Here's a rant, just for them. Dear Visually Awkward Person, Life hasn't been easy for you, but now, you have a lot of appreciating to do. When at one point people would stare and laugh in your face, now they just have to click and giggle. And you won't hear a thing. I see you carefully positioned yourself in clever lighting, caked yourself with pounds of makeup and held the camera at an odd to decipher angle while you took and erased 342 pictures. But let's face it. Number 343 isn't any better. And while thumbnails make you look semi decent, once we click your name, it's all over. Right smack before our eyes lies the naked truth, in

Okay, so we all know celebrities are not amongst society's fanciest and respectable group of people. But when it comes to broadcasting your humiliation nationwide, the Spanish version of "Dancing with the stars" known as "Mira Quien Baila! (Look who's dancing)" takes the cake.  Overrated news anchors, B-list soap opera daytime Emmy winners, and long non-heard of fading singers are all cast on a dance floor in front of a camera and told to get jiggy with it. But oh, the drama! Front and center are the accidents. Last night, Jon Secada flopped on his knee, during his visually painful performance, after failing to catch his partner, and immediately formed a riot as he bawled and winced on all fours like an abandoned puppy. And instead of calling it a day, he was ushered out AGAIN to do some awkward robot-duck-bread-making routine to David Bisbal's Buleria.  Niurka Marcos, however, didn't even show up after last week's knee injury to add to the caked