L o b a B l a n c a {dot} c o m

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 Personalities^TM 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.

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 “ImagiFriends^TM,” 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…

The anachronistic fustercluckery of this cover delights and disturbs me in equal measure. Ro Laren in a dress that looks like a reject from a Smut Trek bodice ripper romance? Running from…what? A Jawa with a raging case of gigantism and osteoporosis? And she’s holding a Cardassian phaser? In her left hand?

[Loba Tangent: Yes, I do notice things like this...I'm left-handed, so I almost always register when someone is similarly dexterous. Ro Laren, however, was not a southpaw. Neither was Admiral Cain or Maryann Forrester. Michelle Forbes, however...also isn't left-handed. Just so you know.]

It’s all too much. And yet not even close to being enough. I want need to know what this comic is about. Although in my mind, I’ve decided that this is a really bad first date, and that look of murderous intent in Ro’s eyes is either: A) Because she’s now on her way to assassinate the creator of IntergalacticHarmony.com for completely botching her request for someone “dark and mysterious, with a sense of Old World adventure” or; B) Because she’s had enough of Tall, Dark, and Bony grabbing her…bustle.

Whatever is going on, I can’t stop laughing at this cover. Silly Star Trek comics, you just don’t care about continuity at all, do you?

If you find yourself needing to know more about this particular comic and my explanation just isn’t cutting it for you, then might I direct you to this electronic comic book collection, brought to you by Santa Timmy and his lovely worker elves at ThinkGeek. Consider it my gift to you at this festive Tribblemas…

Sometimes you stumble across something so bizarre…and yet so strangely entertaining…that you can’t stop looking at it. Perhaps that’s a statement only applicable to the truly obsessive by nature, but I do believe that I undeniably fall under the purview of this particular categorization (you may have noticed that I can sometimes obsess about certain things here at the lair [cough, cough] Star Trek [cough, cough]).

So it is with this video:

Bet you weren’t in a million years expecting that ending, were you? I mean, what about a Merengue-rapping dachshund, dancing girls in hoodie dresses and go-go boots, exploding avocados, and random Lucha Libre wrestlers, all undulating to the rhythm of a Latin fusion beat says “paper towel commercial” to you? It wasn’t immediately obvious to me either, but this write-up gives away a bit of the thought process behind this commercial, at the end of the article.

Whatever the reasons, I can’t stop watching this silly video. I even caught myself humming the tune as I was walking to my car after work. So I’ve decided to post it here, for all you lovely denizens. I figure, if I can’t stop watching it, at least I can maybe attract some company to obsess along with me…

Ay, mamita…

As most people know, this past weekend was the Rally to Restore Sanity And/Or Fear, the combined crazy spoofiness sponsored by Comedy Central and hosted by Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. I didn’t attend this rally (although I did get caught up in some of the mad rush trying to get downtown). I have a HUGE phobia against massive crowds, regardless of how amused I am by the purpose of said gatherings. Plus, I had quieter and more personally enjoyable plans for my weekend.

However, this morning I did find this link of the 100 Best Signs At The Rally To Restore Sanity And/Or Fear. Some of these are simply brilliant (and some of the people holding the signs are equally wonderful).

Several of these signs quickly became favorites, including the one that reads, “Teatard.” I’m only going to post one here, however, because if I start posting more than one, I’ll end up posting them all…and I don’t want to steal buzzfeed’s thunder. Here, then, is the one that made me laugh out loud and make a strange squee-like noise that made me grateful my officemate hadn’t arrived yet:

Of course I enjoyed it for the obvious reason, but I also loved it because whoever made this sign has a sense of humor as cheesy and geeky as mine. Case in point, this is a snippet from a blog entry I made during my Angry Blogger^TM days:

When an American reporter later asked Bush if he realized that many people considered his statement to be highly hypocritical because many consider him to be xenophobic, he scoffed loudly and replied, “Who said I was Xena-phobic? I love that show! I think it’s great to see more women in action roles, especially ones who look so good in so little…know what I mean?” He then appeared to cringe visibly and several in the vicinity reported hearing loud screaming coming from the still unidentified “mystery bulge” beneath the president’s sports coat. Several reported that the voice sounded like Karl Rove. Mr. Bush promptly stopped talking and allowed Secret Service to escort him back to Air Force One.

See? Utter cheese of the strongest geek flavor. And, wow, talk about taking a walk down “Thank the prophets those days are over” lane! Ah, good times.

Anyway, take a look at the rest of the signs and, hopefully, laugh along with Loba.

Whilst walking/jogging/limping/suffering around the local high school track on Sunday, I listened to one of my favorite podcasts as they dissected the Halloween movie franchise.

This is quite the bittersweet topic for me. I continue to consider John Carpenter’s original 1978 movie to be not just a horror classic but quite possibly one of the absolute finest that the horror genre has to offer. At the very least, I know that it’s in my top three (and if you ask me on the right day, it’s my number one favorite horror movie of all time).

That being said, the franchise itself is…well, “a bit shit” is probably the nicest way I can describe the rest of the Halloween franchise. With the exception of one or two of the sequels, which aren’t necessarily good but rather palatable in comparison with the rest of the franchise, I’d have to say it’s an embarrassing legacy to the macabre joy of Carpenter’s original offering. And don’t even get me started on Rob Zombie’s vulgar reboot. Actually, you don’t need to; I’ve already torn into that particular affront to my horror movie sensibilities.

A strange thing happened, however, as I listened to the guys discuss these movies: a funny little idea that, throughout the rest of my torturous time at the track, took root in my overly fertile imagination and bloomed into the following poster. I’m not even certain what moment sparked this idea, but the more I thought about it, the more I needed to make it happen. Plus, the fact that the original Michael Myers mask was an altered Captain Kirk mask makes this all the more humorous to this horror movie/sci-fi dork. After all, what better way to update the original than to make it another Trek icon’s face as the new mask?

As for the image of Patrick Stewart in a rather non-Picard outfit, I decided that I wanted him to look more like Donald Pleasence’s Dr. Sam Loomis than his TNG counterpart. For a nanosecond, I considered going with Malcolm McDowell as sort of a Dr. Soran/New Dr. Loomis crossover. But then I remembered my anger toward McDowell’s Loomis and quickly kaboshed that idea. Besides, we all know that Sir Patrick is the best choice anyway, right? Right.

I’m usually not a fan of television commercials. I quite hate them, in fact. Sometimes, though, an advertising campaign is such pure brilliance that even this Commercial Grinch can’t help but fall in love.

So it is with Snickers. First came the Super Bowl commercial, with Betty White and Abe Vigoda:

I don’t think the line “That’s not what your girlfriend says” has ever been funnier. Or oogier.

Then there’s this one, the Diva Commercial:

I’m sure that I should feel some sort of consternation that these are both slightly misogynistic in nature (dudes unable to do their dudely deeds because their hunger has turned them into old women or divas…or Abe Vigoda), but there’s something so effing funny about both these commercials that my feminist sensibilities are appeased by the laughter they invoke. Especially that Betty White commercial. She’s so freaking funny. I’ve adored her ever since I first saw her as Rose Nylund, and I love how she continues to rule the funny block like the Comedy Diva she is.

When the moon is full, she hops the Riverwalk in search of a howling good time.

So some of you may have wondered where Loba disappeared to this time. Some of you may have just been happy for the break from my insanity. Those some of you suck. Just sayin’.

To those who were curious about Loba’s whereabouts, I can finally reveal that I was on a super-secret, Mirror Universe assignment to glorious Texas. Yes, I was indeed deep in the heart of Du(m)bya Country. It was everything I dreamed it would be.

Okay, okay, I’m not going to crack on Texas now. Truth is: A) I know some pretty decent folk from Texas; and B) I didn’t really get a chance to see much more of San Antonio than the severely touristy-kitschy Riverwalk section. It’s hard trying to sight-see when you’re on duty from 6 in the morning until around 7 or 8 in the evening. So, really, what we saw consisted of the hotel, the conference space, site visit stops, and a couple of restaurants (sorry, no partridge in a pear tree this time). I did get a chance to see the Alamo, though. No photos, but I can say I was surprised by how very small it was. True, it was cold that night, but seriously, I thought everything was bigger in Texas.

The cool part was that we were there for our conference at the same time as San Antonio’s Fiesta Week. So there were parades, parties, costumes, and (as one of our conference speakers described it) lots of “drunken debauchery.” Loba may or may not have found said debauchery. I’ll let the flashing bunny ears speak my story for me.

Anywhoodle. It was definitely a long week, but it went very well, and we capped everything off with a relaxing trip to Boudro’s, which is a restaurant literally built from awesome. Definitely had the best guacamole I have ever eaten. The wait staff are all trained in how to make the guacamole at your table. Here’s our waiter, doin’ the do for us:

Seriously, if you love guacamole, you would love this recipe. I’ve never had guacamole this freakin’ tasty. You can download the recipe from the Boudro’s Web site, but you’ll need to log on to get it. Pain, I know, but it’s worth it. Actually, though, you could also just watch this YouTube video. I love how Sarah the waitress states that she doesn’t want to see this video on YouTube. Sorry, Sarah. Looks like they lied. Hope they tipped you well.

And here, finally, is the money shot of our waiter’s enviable guacamole skills:

So, there you go. Now you know where in the world Loba San Diego wandered off to this time, and you’ve gotten a tasty guacamole recipe for your efforts. And stay tuned for some book reviews as well as possibly a DVDreg review this week (although I’m mortified by this one and am having a very difficult time finishing up the special features). See? I always make sure to take care of my denizens, even when I hop off for other climes from time to time

Didn’t Loba tell you to stop your grandmother from talking about tea bagging?

The number of captions that flooded into my brain when I saw this photo at Pundit Kitchen caused a massive surge and subsequent reboot of my primary sarcasm core. All I could do was laugh until I was literally crying. I’m sure at that point they raised the temperature in my own suite in hell by several degrees.