And You Thought the Comedy Was Only at the Beginning of the Evening…

Gather closer, denizens. Loba has a story to tell you all.

You might have noticed that I’ve done a fair amount of writing here at the lair about driving. I’ve told tales of bizarre fender benders, run-ins with police pettiness…I’ve even told you about how Sammy and I once closed down 95 South (I’ve also explained a little about why I have a car with a name; maybe one day I’ll try to explain why it’s “Sammy”).

Well, here comes another driving tale. Only this time, I was merely a passenger on this particular excursion.

So Saturday evening we had tickets to see Wanda Sykes. This might be the only time when this particular detail will ever be classified as incidental to the main story. We get to the venue a little early, find our way to our seats, and then I wander off in search of coffee. I find a wine bar instead. I’d already been drinking wine that afternoon at another social event (yes, sometimes even the solitary Loba makes exceptions and wanders out for social interaction), so I was still carrying a mellow wine happy inside from that time. I paid for my $8 plastic cup of wine and wandered back to my seat to imbibe whilst waiting for the show to begin. By the end of my cup, I was in an extremely happy mellow zone. The show starts, Wanda’s hilarious, the show ends, we scurry to the parking lot, end up beating most of the traffic trying to get out as well. Bonus.

Back on the main road, we retrace our path, find the exit that we need to get back onto the Beltway and…discover that the exits on both sides of the road for north-bound 495 are closed. Why, you might ask? Oh…we’ll get to that in a moment. We hang a U-bie (something that should be a part of the driving test for all new drivers learning how to navigate traffic in this area) and take the south-bound exit, content to simply get off at the next exit, loop around and get back on the north side that way.

First problem: The next exit is going to take us into the heart of the beast itself…the Springfield Mixing Bowl.

And now, a bit of a tangent. The State of Virginia is actually not a state. It likes to call itself the Commonwealth of Virginia. Fine. Whatever. What they then should do is give another name to its northern half: The Clusterfuckery of Northern Virginia. I hate Northern Virginia. I’m convinced that it’s the only tangible proof I have ever discovered that there might actually be a place called Hell and this is its infrastructure. The Springfield Mixing Bowl is a huge part of this horror. It’s like a monstrous earth-trapped Cthulhu, its tentacles stretched across the landscape in on-ramps, off-ramps, flyover ramps, damp ramps, camp ramps, vamp ramps….whatever kind of ramp you can imagine, it’s there. Simply put, it’s a hot rampy mess.

I will say this: Now that the nearly decade-long reconstruction is finished, the Springfield Interchange is much more navigable than it once was. It can still be confusing as hell, though, if you’re either not used to it or you’re slightly wine mellow. Yes, meet the players in your now rapidly unfolding comedy of errors: “Not Used To It,” who shall henceforth be referred to as “NUTI,” and “Wine Mellow.” Needless to say, NUTI and Wine Mellow end up taking the wrong flyover. Looking back in hindsight, I know precisely what error we made; it’s an error that I’ve nearly made several times before when completely sober, so no wonder I didn’t catch it on this night with about half a bottle of wine rolling around in my system.

Oh, by the way, note to hindsight: You’re about as useful as tits on a snake. Thanks.

We head in the wrong direction for about 5 miles before Wine Mellow starts to realize that the exits are for roads we shouldn’t be passing. Enter another off-ramp/loop around maneuver and we’re once more back onto the right side of the Beltway, heading in the right direction. Zipping along at a nice steady pace and all is once more right with the world. Quick check of the clock and we see that we’ve only lost about 20 minutes of time from when we first hit the Beltway.

You know what’s the worst possible thing you can see at 11 on a Saturday night on the Beltway? The red glare of a million taillights. Now, I’m not talking about a few slowed cars. I’m talking a glowing red snake of brake lights stretching as far as the horizon will allow us to see. Behind us? Headlights are quickly multiplying. Traffic is worse than weekday rush hour. We’re at a solid stand-still with no sign of relief.

Know what’s worse than sitting in totally stopped traffic at 11 on a Saturday night? Looking down at your console and realizing that your temperature gauge is on the rise. Oh, yes, denizens, we’re talking a notch every 10 seconds and closing in quickly on the red danger zone. We’re talking console lights are starting to flicker and the engine is beginning to shudder and make unhappy noises. We’re talking ohshitpullovernowandturnthisfuckeroffbeforeweexplode.

Okay, maybe not that dramatic, but still highly unnerving. We pull over and turn off the car. Maybe letting it cool down while we wait for traffic to break and move will be the answer?

Second problem: There is no break in traffic. Cars just keep idling in place. Headlights keep multiplying behind us. Taillights keep glaring their furious red stare back toward us. After about 10 minutes, we start the car and see what happens anyway. Not even 5 minutes later the temperature gauge is once more on the shift, this time faster than before. Lights start to flicker and dim and the shuddering seems more pronounced. And now there’s a slight chemical smell seeping through the vents. Mmm, tasty. Leaves me thinking there might be something going on with the coolant system, but I’m not a mechanic and it’s now close to midnight and I’m getting sleepy and I’m still riding the waves of that happy wine mellow. NUTI is definitely not a mechanic. She is, however, a masterful number dialer. Out comes the AAA card. We’ll get a tow.

Third problem: We’re stuck in an area with which neither of us is at all familiar, at the apex of two bits of highway coming together to form this particular stretch of the Beltway. There’s a road to our right, which we can’t see because there’s a Jersey wall right next to us. There’s a flyover ramp to our left, barrels all around us, traffic at a stand-still, and we can’t see any mile markers to help the AAA dispatcher pinpoint our location.

But, Loba, don’t you have a GPS? Yes, I do. Fourth problem: While trying to get us back on track when we were tumbling around the Mixing Bowl, I pulled out my handy little GPS, which was saving the day quite nicely…until it died. The battery just doesn’t hold its charge anymore. I do have a car charger for it. But that was in Sammy. Back at home. Parked in his spot. Dreaming happy Sammy dreams. Not really much help. So rather than having a GPS, at this point I had a lovely shiny doorstop.

The dispatcher finally gets enough information out of us that she thinks she’s pinpointed us. She sends a tow truck our way, but because traffic is as it is, she says rather apologetically that he might not get there for an hour. Okay, fine, we understand. So we sit. And sit. And sit. All the while, I’m trying to ignore the fact that my wine mellow is slowly turning into wine-induced bladder discomfort. However, I’m not going to lie to you, denizens. I was beginning to seriously entertain several different ways to set up a privacy barrier if it came down to it.

After about an hour, NUTI points out the window and says, “Hey, isn’t that a tow truck from the company they said was coming to get us?” Why, yes. Yes, it is. And it’s all the way in the far left lane. And there it goes.

We quickly call AAA back and explain that we think we just saw the truck pass us. They confirm that, yes, the truck did pass us, didn’t see us, will turn around at the next off-ramp and come back.

Almost another hour later, he makes it back. He loads the Jetta of Shame onto his flatbed, we all climb into his cab, and we’re off.

Okay, here’s another tangent. Dear Volkswagen, your NAFTA-built VWs are shit. You should be ashamed. I’d make a Hitler joke here…but you do that every time one of these abominations rolls off the assembly line. Congratulations for your holistic suckage.

It’s now close to 1 in the morning and we’re about 30 miles away from the dealership where NUTI wants the Jetta of Shame delivered, another 10 miles after that from home. Traffic, mind you, still isn’t moving much. And things are starting to get uglier. People are cutting people off. Others are refusing to let anyone merge in front of them. Horns are blaring. Tempers are flaring. Language couldn’t be bluer.

The bright spot? We’re in a flatbed tow truck. No one cuts off a flatbed tow truck.Our new BFF, Mr. Tow, barrels his way across four lanes of traffic and slips into the far left lane again (we learned at this point that he was over there the first time because it was the only lane moving, and he was under the impression that we were further up the Beltway than we actually were).

It still takes us another 30 minutes to make our way through the Clusterfuckery of Northern Virginia. We’re given a great view of what’s actually taking place: Construction crews have closed off all but one lane on the northbound side of 495. (Remember how this adventure all kicked off? With the northbound exits being closed? This was why.) Why were these lanes all closed? I’m still not sure. Nothing was going on. There were no construction crews in sight, minus one group who was setting up a flood light. Other than that, though? I really saw no reason to have decided to shut down three-quarters of this side of the Beltway for about 5 miles on a Saturday night. You know, beyond the fact that Virginia is apparently bat-shit crazy.

We finally get beyond the construction, all lanes open back up, we shift into the center left lane and once more approach a decent cruising speed. Mr. Tow is actually quite amiable, especially considering the fact that his company is located in a part of Virginia that’s about an hour south of where he picked us up and he’s now heading even further north. He’s pretty much not going to get back home until close to 3. If everything goes well.

You see where this is going already, don’t you?

First, an interlude. So we’re clipping along at about 65 MPH, chatting and listening to music and enjoying the fact that we’re moving and inside a vehicle with heat, when Mr. Tow realizes that the Mazda 3 in the lane in front of us is suddenly braking for no reason. He switches to the far left lane to pass the Mazda; as we’re going by, I look down and see that the driver is a young man, in his early 20s, and he’s behaving in a slightly odd manner. He’s laughing, looks like he’s in the car alone, and kind of slumping forward onto his steering wheel. Oookay. We get back into the center left lane once we’re past him and continue on.

About 5 minutes later, we see the Mazda 3 whiz past us in the far left lane, now doing at least 80 MPH. The car then begins to list to the left. Just as I ask, “What’s that car doing,” the Mazda drifts right into the Jersey wall that separates the Inner Loop and the Outer Loop. We all sit and watch in complete silence as the Mazda grinds against the barrier for a good 300 feet before ricocheting off and back into the far left lane. The driver straightens the car out for a moment but then does the exact same thing a few seconds later. We watch as the car grinds and bounces one more time after that before suddenly accelerating to at least 100 MPH and rocketing off down the Beltway.

How the hell someone that drunk was allowed anywhere near a car still baffles me. How he made it that far without encountering any cops baffles me even more. Shouldn’t they be all over the Beltway on a Saturday night/Sunday morning? All I can say is I hope he made it to wherever he was going. And I hope he wasn’t driving someone else’s car…because if he didn’t kill himself that night, they surely killed him the next morning.

We finally make it to the dealer service area. It’s now after 2 in the morning. NUTI and I are both well beyond tired. It’s been years since we were out this late, my wine mellow is now full-on “If I don’t pee soon, I might spring a leak,” but the good news is we’re so very close to being home and done with this entire debacle.

Remember what I said earlier about “if all goes well”? Strap in, kiddies.

So Mr. Tow hops up onto the flatbed to start disengaging the Jetta of Shame. NUTI heads over to where she’s got to fill out an envelope with what’s wrong, stick in the key, seal it, and slip it into the drop box for the service crew to retrieve when they next open. She does this and we head back to Mr. Tow. Who asks for the key so that he can finish unloading the Jetta of Shame.

Fifth problem: Do I even need to say anything here? No? Okay then.

Mr. Tow was actually quite calm about this…hiccup. He re-hooked everything, reset the flatbed, we all climbed back into his truck and headed off for the 10-mile drive to get the spare key. Bonus? I finally got to pee. All was once more right in that little corner of my world at least. We then headed back to the dealership where Mr. Tow finally unloaded the Jetta of Shame and very kindly drove us back home. He really was very easy-going and took the entire evening in stride. Thank the prophets for that, at least.

When all was said and done, it was almost 3:30 in the morning. I think I remembered to brush my teeth before going completely offline.

So…how was your weekend?

TNG Top Ten

Happy Doctober!

Ah, remember last year at this time? Thirty-one days of Dr. Crusher? Good times, good times. I won’t be doing that again this year (don’t think I didn’t hear that sigh of relief; cheeky monkeys). As much as I enjoyed doing Doctober last year, it took a great deal of planning, thinking, designing, and creating. I was quite done by Halloween, I can assure you.

However, I did want to at least tip my paw to the greatness of the event. Plus, I feel a bit guilty that I missed yet another Flashback Friday. I had plans; I simply ran of out time yesterday. I hate when that happens. So, to make up for my absence, I offer you this. Apparently, one of the newest memes to hit teh Interwebz recently was the “10 Days of TNG,” a top 10 list used to countdown to the 24th anniversary of TNG’s television debut.

Obviously, I missed out on that. But I thought I would offer you my answers to the countdown anyway. Because, you know, you’re interested. I know you are.

Say yes or I’ll turn November into Bevember and each day I will post a recording of me singing a new filk song that I have written all about Dr. Crusher.

Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea…

Ten Days of TNG List of Favorites

Day One: Favorite Season

Season 2, of course.

Blech. Just typing that made me feel dirty.

This one’s actually almost a draw between Seasons 3 and 4; however, I have to say that if someone wanted to get into TNG and asked me where they should start, I would more than likely tell them to start at “The Best of Both Worlds” and watch from there. So I guess that means that I think Season 4 is slightly better than Season 3. But only slightly, since Season 3 does contain a slew of episodes that are excellent for all variety of reasons; plus, it contains two classic episodes that are a must for anyone new to the series: “Yesterday’s Enterprise” and “Sarek.”

However, Season 4 is nearly perfect from start to finish. It’s such a shame that it ends on such an…uneven note.

Blonde Romulan. That’s all I’m going to say.

Day Two: Favorite Episode

I can’t answer this question because there are far too many excellent episodes from which to pick. I can’t say that one is the absolute best of the bunch. So how about this: my favorite episode from each season:

Season 1: “The Big Goodbye”
First time on the holodeck and already it’s screwy! Yes, this was the episode that launched a thousand “There’s something wrong with the holodeck” stories that passed on through DS9 and Voyager. This was a spectacular debut, though. Spectacular enough, in fact, that I used images from this episode to launch Doctober.

Season 2: “The Measure of a Man”
As far as I’m concerned, this episode was the only reason to even bother purchasing the second season of TNG on DVD. If you don’t already know the reason why, you’re either new to the lair or you haven’t really been paying attention. Naughty, naughty denizens.

Season 3: “Sarek”
This is when it starts to get difficult to narrow down to just one episode. However, for shear impact and power, the return of Sarek to the Trek universe has to get the crown for Season 3, with “Yesterday’s Enterprise” coming in a solid second.

Season 4: “The Drumhead”
Again, very difficult, but this is one of the best written episodes to ever appear on TNG. Such a powerful episode, and it continues to be poignant—perhaps even more so today than when it first aired. Close calls for this season include “Half a Life,” which is one of the best Lwaxana Troi episodes to ever air; “The Wounded,” which is the first appearance of the Cardassians and an amazing episode for Miles O’Brien; “Night Terrors,” which (minus the “Troi Tuchis” dream sequences) is a deliciously creepy episode; and “Remember Me,” which is my all-time favorite Beverly Crusher episode and will appear here on this list again in a moment or two.

Season 5: “The Inner Light”
If there ever was an episode in which Patrick Stewart truly got to shine, it was this one. This might also be the one time in the history of the world in which a penny whistle moved me to tears for reasons other than irritation or eardrum torment. Close calls here include “Ensign Ro,” which was the debut of not only Ro Laren, who holds a particularly large part of my Trek-loving heart, but also the Bajorans (known at this point as “the Bajora”), the alien race that over time became my favorite Trek aliens; “Cause and Effect,” which is a nice ensemble effort with some really great Dr. Crusher moments; and “The Next Phase,” which is probably my favorite Ensign Ro episode.

Season 6: “Tapestry”
The vote really should go to “Chain of Command” for this season, but I don’t think it’s fair to choose a two-parter (which is why I didn’t say anything about “The Best of Both Worlds” earlier). I think that two-parters should be disqualified or given their own category simply because they get double the time to flesh out their story and double the time to make an impact on viewers. I am seeing a pattern, however, to my choices for best. Every single episode that I’ve chosen thus far has either starred or heavily featured Patrick Stewart. It’s no surprise, though. There’s no denying the fact that he was an amazing catch for the role of Captain Jean-Luc Picard. This episode also gets my vote as one of the best “Q” episodes. Close calls from this season include “True Q,” which isn’t really a great Q episode but heavily features Dr. Crusher, which is always a delight (even if she does get turned into an Irish setter at one point); “Face of the Enemy,” which wins as the greatest Troi episode from the entire TNG run; “Frame of Mind,” which is a trippy Riker episode; and “Timescape,” which is another episode with a great “creepy” vibe.

Season 7: “Attached”
To those of you who thought I would choose “Sub Rosa,” do fuck off. I went with “Attached,” however, for purely subjective reasons. Other than “Remember Me,” this is one of the few great Dr. Crusher-heavy episodes from the entire TNG run. I love how each moment of discovery and revelation shared between Crusher and Picard peels away one more layer of privacy, one more layer of knowing, one more layer of emotion, until the baring of the ultimate “secret” (was it really a secret to anyone but Beverly though? By this point, I’m sure even Spot knew how Picard felt about her). Close calls from the final season are “Phantasms,” which makes me laugh every time I see it, along with making me crave cake (with mint frosting); “Dark Page,” which might actually be my favorite Lwaxana Troi episode; “Lower Decks,” which is an amazing look into the lives of non-senior staff officers on board; “Genesis,” which I know is mocked by most fans of the show but has a special place in my heart as being the first Trek episode directed by a female cast member (who also just happens to be the same actress who played my favorite character); and “Preemptive Strike,” which wasn’t a great episode but gave closure to Ro Laren.

Day Three: Favorite Film

To me, there’s really only one great TNG movie, and that’s First Contact. Even with all its flaws (and there are many), it’s still a great adventure with the best villain to come from TNG (and well before they became so incredibly played out that they lost all semblance of scariness), plus lots of ‘splosions and special effects.

Day Four: Favorite Male Character

Regardless of the obvious Picard-on I had for Patrick Stewart, I’m going to have to say that Data was my favorite male character. There was an innocence and charm to that character that I found delightful. Brent Spiner was quite adept at taking this character who was supposedly emotionless and tapping into the full spectrum of emotions in believable and memorable ways. In fact, I loved Data so much , I named my cat after him. Prettiest kitty in the world, he was.

Day Five: Favorite Female Character

Hmm, let me think about this for a moment.

Ha, yeah, okay. Seeing as I started this post with mention of Doctober 2010, I do believe that the answer to this one is a no-brainer. It ain’t gonna be the buxom Betazoid or the surly blonde. It’s not even going to be the battle-damaged Bajoran…although she’s definitely in the running for second favorite.

Nope, it’s all about the Dancing Doctor. Maybe one day I’ll explain why. But not today.

Day Six: Favorite Guest Star

There were some magnificent guests throughout TNG’s seven-year run, but I’m going to go with the Daughter of the Fifth House, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx. Majel Barrett Roddenberry as Lwaxana Troi was a joy to behold. Of course, I fell in love with Majel Barrett from the moment I saw her as Number One in the very first Star Trek pilot, “The Cage,” so it’s no surprise that I would love her as Deanna Troi’s mother.

Second place? The one whose ears I have hanging in the stairwell… 😉

Day Seven: Favorite Friendship

This is a strange question because I don’t really think that there were many friendships on board this ship. In fact, I think that’s one of my ultimate complaints about the TNG crew: As people, they were rather unbelievable. I know, that’s a horrible thing to say about characters that I love so much, but I think it’s pretty accurate. They didn’t really behave like real people, including they didn’t really interact with each other in believable ways. So, other than the relationship between Geordi and Data, which I guess could pass as a friendship, I don’t really think that any of them had what you’d call significant friendly bonds with each other. However, I think I would go with Guinan and Ro Laren, which was just one of the strangest friendships you could possibly imagine. But it worked. Almost as well as the friendship shared between Guinan and Picard. Although not nearly as funny as the friendship shared between Guinan and Worf. Also, not as time-alteringly significant as the friendship shared between Guinan and Tasha.

Looks like Guinan was friendliest person on that ship, doesn’t it?

Day Eight: Favorite Romantic Relationship

Data and Jenna D’Sora from “In Theory.” This is one of those episodes that I always love to watch and will always stop on if I find it playing on television, and one of the main reasons is that Spiner is such a joy to watch in this episode. It’s definitely sci-fi light, with a silly B-story going on in the background (although that story includes a really creepy scene in which they find a crew member trapped in the floor of one of the decks), but that just allows more time for a nice break from the sci-fi norm. It was a sweet scoop of sorbet to cleanse the palate in time for the awful taste of blonde Romulan (have I gotten it through to you that I really hated that part of TNG?).

Day Nine: Favorite Ensemble Moment

I know it’s schmaltzy and perhaps even a cop-out response, but I’m going to have to go with the very last scene of the very last episode of TNG, “All Good Things.” You know the scene: All the senior staff are gathered in Riker’s quarters for their weekly poker night and Picard shows up unexpectedly to join them. He sits down and looks at his crew and says that he should have done this years ago. He starts to deal the cards and his final words are, “The sky’s the limit,” and the camera slowly begins to pull away…every time I see that moment, I get teary-eyed. Hell, I’m feeling a little verklempt just writing about it!

For sheer fun, however, I’d go with all the Sherwood Forest scenes from “Q-Pid.” But come on, how do you not love that episode? “I must protest! I am not a merry man!”

Day Ten: Favorite Quote

Again, this is a no-brainer. Allow me to direct you to the quote at the top of the page. It’s been there ever since I re-launched the lair back in February 2009, and I don’t see it leaving any time soon. It’s one of the most brilliant things ever spoken on TNG. It’s so awesome, in fact, that my aunts got it for me on a shirt:

Best. Shirt. EVAR.

For those who don’t remember this line, it’s from the Season 4 episode “Remember Me,” which I told you would be making another appearance on this list very soon 😉

Bajoran Down!

As some of you might have heard, we had a bit of a rumble in our area today. Okay, so not so much a “bit.” It was enough that my work building jiggled like a Jell-O mold for the better part of a minute. Fun for Jell-O. Not so fun for brick, steel, and glass, I can assure you. To be on the safe side, building maintenance evacuated us to the streets, where we stood about like disconnected drones for 20 minutes, holding our cell phones skyward, as though bringing our gizmo gods that much closer to their mother signal would somehow miraculously make them work. Then we went back in and carried on with our day.

No harm, no foul.

Until I got home. And found the body.

Poor Colonel Kira. Apparently, things rattled enough in our house that she took a tumble from my action figure shelf, her weapon nearly lost to the detritus of the shredder basket. I have to admit, I had a bit of a CSI moment when I pulled out my digital camera and started to “photo-document the scene.” I felt like I needed those numbered evidence markers to lay out, or at the very least some latex gloves.

And then there was Xena…

Rather than flipping over the edge and following Kira, she slipped backward…into Captain Picard’s crotch. While Dr. Crusher watched. Not the wisest decision made by the Warrior Princess, to be sure. She does, however, have many skills. Perhaps eluding a territorial CMO with a hypo full of poison is one them. Or maybe she’s convinced Batwoman to have her back. I doubt Ro would come to her rescue; she looks quite apathetic to the whole thing.

And there you go. Obviously, all is once more stable in the lair (or as stable as possible for me). I’m geeking as normal. Maybe even hyper-geeking: I would like to point out that in one short post, I have mentioned Trek, CSI, Xena, and Batwoman. All I need to do is point out that you can see Wonder Woman’s shield in the corner of the Xena pic and Starbuck’s flight helmet near Xena’s feet and I’m set with most of my major fandoms.

Xena’s not the only one with many skills…


My apologies to those who have never paid a visit to that idyllic little vampire haven of Bon Temps, but this silly idea hit me a couple days ago and has been hanging around, waiting for me to do something with it ever since.

Strangely enough, I’m not the first person to want to see a Muppet parody of True Blood:



As for my own True Blood viewing, I’m still trying to decide whether or not I want to bother with renting the third season. Maybe. But without the promise of Admiral Ro Forrester showing up, I really don’t see the point. I could just as well pop in my copy of BSG: Razor or one of the TNG episodes with Ensign Ro and probably be way happier. And a happy Loba is a preferred Loba.

Oh, but I do love that surly Bajoran…

Bad Reputation

So some of you may have heard that DC Comics is wiping the slate for all their stories. Going back to #1. Rebooting. Rejuvenating. Shaking the Etch-A-Sketch. Erasing all messages and starting fresh.

Whatever. I’m surprisingly “meh” about this announcement. I’m even more surprisingly “meh” about the image associated with the article to which I linked. The reboot looks for the superheroes depicted all kinda stink. Superman has a popped collar and blue skivvies now. Wonder Woman looks like a cross between punk-era Storm and a stripper. Aquaman…okay, I just can’t be bothered to care about Aquaman. Why? Let me let Robot Chicken explain it for me:

Yeah. Aquaman. Pfft. Still, why does he have to look like a Swiss model? And, really, they all look a bit young. And…is that a machine gun protruding from the Green Lantern’s crotch? And why is the Flash built like a brick shit house now? How can he be fast when he’s so cumbersome looking?

Hmm. Guess I care more than I thought. Or I’m just a whiny hater.

The good thing is that I did find out that Batwoman will continue to be a player in the DC Comics universe. Not too surprising, considering how amazing her first graphic novel was. And the even better news is that her story will be tended to in part by J.H. Williams, III. This makes the White Wolf somewhat happy.

Happier, at least, than I am over the first look at Cliff Chiang’s cover art for the Wonder Woman reboot. Waitforit…


It’s just not…at all enticing.

This, however? This is made of pure awesome:

OMGWTFBBQ!! Wonder Woman as Joan Jett backed up by Zatanna, Black Canary, and Batgirl? This is inspired artwork of the most rockin’ variety.

Seriously, if Cliff Chiang printed this on a T-shirt, I would so buy it.

Someone make this happen. Now.


So maybe you’ve seen this before in…other places. Maybe you haven’t. I guess it all depends on where you beam into on teh Interwebz.

Just in case you missed it though, here is a music video from the always delightful Suzie Plakson, she of many Trek aliases and many more talents:


Check out the red sneakers! And once you’re finished, check out your very own copy of her CD, DidnWannaDoIt!

I do loves me some Suzie, that’s for sure. Whether it’s from her many Trek appearances or her roles in other favorites like Wag the Dog or Mad About You (which also featured another of my favorite Titian-Tressed Trek Talents [dear prophets, I love alliteration]), she is always delightful. There’s something so very vintage Hollywood classy about her.

Of course, the ears hanging in my stairwell probably make me a bit biased…but you all still trust my opinion in this matter, right? Right 😉

SanFran PSA

It would be a magnificent lie if I wrote right now that I try to keep things non-biased and non-political here at the lair. I really don’t try that at all. And while things are nowhere near the level of political that they were in my Angry BloggerTM days (and while I’m nowhere near as big a blue jackass donkey as I was in those days either), I still like to throw out the occasional political jab.

Like this one. I came across this sticker while wandering back from my walk to the Pacific through Golden Gate Park. It was stuck to a telephone pole somewhere on Fulton Street:

There’s really nothing else to say after that. Although, I do very much enjoy the little heart at the end of this message. See? It’s a PSA written with nothing but love, denizens. Just like everything else that appears here at the lair…

Bacon Makes It All Better

I’m trying to “keep calm and carry on” as the Anglophile in me thinks is best. My frame of mind at the present is a whirling dervish of unpredictability, with valleys of torrential self-pity…which I hate. What I hate even more is that I seem to be at a total loss regarding how to verbalize any of this. Or write about it either. My focus as of late has once again been reduced to Twitter-level: short, random, and most often pointless.

[Loba Tangent: I speak hypothetically, of course. Loba does not tweet. Although I get the sneaking suspicion that one of my Internet PersonalitiesTM does. I’m just not sure which one…yet.]

Anyway, this is why the lair has been a relative ghost town as of late. Minus my holiday investigation with Santa Sidle, of course.

[Loba Tangent 2: Did you know that, apparently, all I needed to do to give my visitor numbers a nice bump was to mention Sara Sidle? Who knew? I wonder what mentioning Jorja Fox will do to my stats. Gina Toscano? Maggie Doyle? Seriously, I’m a closeted stats whore, so I’ll do whatever it takes to make my numbers soar. Heh. That rhymed.]

However, I wanted to bring you all something during this final countdown to the end of 2010…something more special than gold, frankincense, and myrrh combined. What could be better than that combination, you might ask? How about Wil Wheaton, the Golden Girls, and Dungeons & Dragons? Framed in bacon?

Yeah, it’s okay to be speechless right now. It’s also okay to be mesmerized. Go ahead, take your time and stare. I’ll wait.

It’s breathtaking, isn’t it? Even Wil Wheaton didn’t quite know what to call this masterpiece. His blog post on it was titled what is this i don’t even

I don’t even either, Wil. All I know is that when I start to feel sad, I open this image and the tsunami of awesome that crashes through my mind immediately sweeps the sad away. It’s a temporary palliative, true…but I’ll take temporary like this any day. With an extra side of bacon, please.

Christmas Scene Investigation

We heard you wanted to report a 459…burglary. What’s missing? Milk and cookies, you say? Oh, that’s all right. That was just ole St. Nick, making his annual rounds. Other than the milk and cookies, I bet he didn’t take anything, right? Bet he even left something behind…that’s his MO, you know. We’ve been processing his scenes for years.

We’ll go ahead and send over our best CSI (Christmas Scene Investigator, of course), Santa Sidle. She can be a little rough around the edges sometimes, but she gets the job done…

Yeah, this year I decided to give the sci-fi scions of my life a little break and go with another of my loves for my holiday card…CSI. I considered using Nick Stokes, since his name was the most appropriate for this particular holiday (St. Nicky)…but I had to go with my favorite: the dark, damaged, dentally diastemic one. Besides, if anyone needs a little holiday cheer in their lives, I think Sara Sidle comes at the top of that list. Plus, she wears that Santa hat well, no?

And, of course, I wish you all the merriest of holidays, whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or the Blessed Solstice. And I thank you. This has been a year of slippery slopes for me, but I have found solace and unexpected smiles from so many of you. I know I kid about having “ImagiFriendsTM,” but the truth is…you are my friends. I just haven’t met some of you IRL…yet. You have made my days brighter, my laughter stronger, and my mind filthier (you know which ones of you I’m talking about…).

Enough sentimentality. Break out the rum and let’s get this investigation under way! I’ll be over here, helping to print the reindeer…