Rambling

The Great White Hype Reality

~ lobablanca

OMGWTFSNOW?!?

I actually miss the days when the meteorologists in this area were always wrong. Used to be, they’d start hyping a snowstorm, only to have the predicted snowy deluge never materialize. I can remember several ocassions in which school systems shut down the night prior only to wake up to the rude reality that they closed for no reason whatsoever. No snow at all.

The meteorologists are starting to get better…and that sucks. They started predicting this storm at the beginning of this week. And they kept bumping the numbers each time they talked about it. 12 inches. 24 inches. 30 inches.

The storm started yesterday at around 11 a.m. I went into the office that morning, but when the president of the company came around and looked at me like I was crazy, I knew that it was okay to leave when the first flakes started to fall.

The snow finally stopped around 4 this evening. It was so blustery at points overnight that we awoke to a blanket of white over all the window screens and a pile of snow on the sidewalk that stood almost as high as the banister. I haven’t actually measured, but I can tell you that the snow drift I fell into when I was trying to check the phone lines at the back of the house came up above my knees. I’m going to venture a guess and say that we’ve got almost three feet. Some of the areas to the west got even more than that.

Like I said at the beginning, OMGWTFSNOW!

The last time we had a snow like this, I was about 12 years old. Actually, though, even that snow wasn’t this bad. This is now recorded in the history books as the fourth worst snowstorm in D.C. history.

I will grant you this…it is beautiful. I’ve taken quite a few photos since the storm began. I’d upload them, but they need to be resized and my main CPU is now off. The power started fluctuating sporadically around 3, so all essential electronics were clicked off at that point. The DSL also went out around noon. Followed by the phone lines at around 1. Both just came back about 20 minutes ago.

And of course my first thought was to come here to the lair and let its denizens know the 411 on my own personal white hell.

Can I just say now how much I’m dreading tomorrow morning? Sammy’s in about 4 feet of snow right now, thanks to drifting. And this is a heavy snow, denizens. Heavy, wet, clumpy snow. We’re going to be digging for most of the day, I believe.

The bonus? I strongly suspect that the federal government will be closed on Monday. Possibly even Tuesday.

Damn it feels good to be a contractor.

Anyway, so that’s where things are at Chez Loba. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a glass of wine waiting to be drunk and a cheesy 80s movie waiting to be watched. So I’m off…but only slightly…

Waking Memories

~ lobablanca

Loba plans and the Prophets laugh. I had places to go, people to do today. Instead, I’m sitting inside, watching as the “one inch” of snow that the meteorologists said we were going to get has transformed into multiple inches. I know a lot of girls who would get excited over more inches than originally promised. I’m not that girl.

I’m also apparently incredibly dirty-minded. I do apologize. However, I never said that Loba’s online lair was kid-tested and mother-approved.

So I remembered another dream. Not that big a deal to most people, I’m sure. However, Loba very rarely retains memories of dreams. For a long time I thought that I didn’t dream at all. Then Dr. Crusher and Data explained to me that if Humans didn’t dream, we’d go crazy. That was when I knew that I had to dream…I just never remembered any of what I was dreaming.

I realize now that I only remember the dreams that I wake up during. Like this morning. I was having a dream about something that actually happened. It was my final semester of college. My classes were over for the day and I was walking to my car when I ran into someone from my high school graduating class.

This probably doesn’t sound like that big a deal to most people. You go to a state university located fewer than 30 miles away from your high school, you’re bound to encounter a classmate or two on campus, right? Maybe if you went to a normal high school. I did not. The number of students in my graduating class didn’t even reach into the double digits. So this was a pretty big deal.

In both my dream and in the real experience, I remember the awkwardness of the encounter…the surprise on both sides, the slight joy mixed with discomfort. I can’t speak for my classmate, but I understand now that my discomfort was based on the fact that encountering him forced me to come face to face with a part of my life that was slowly fading, as was the person I was during those days. College is a time of reinvention and discovery, and while there were no external signs of any major transformation on my part (no pink hair, no tattoos, no piercings…I’m insanely vanilla in my appearance), inside I knew I was different from the person he once knew.

I think he could understand this truth as well. While he still looked the same as he did in high school, he had changed his name (and in fact seemed quite flustered when I called him by his old name). He was in a state of reinvention as well. So there we stood, two people identifiable to each other only on the outside, still in a state of flux on the inside. Not really all that into being reminded of those people we were trying to leave behind.

There wasn’t really anything more special than this about the dream, just like there wasn’t anything more special about the actual encounter. In reality, I think we shared about 10 minutes of conversation in which we caught up with what each of us was doing, and that was that. No offer from either side to exchange numbers or e-mail addresses. Just a smile and a goodbye. That was more than 10 years ago now. It was the last time I ever saw anyone from my graduating class.

I think this memory resurfaced in my dream world because recently I ran into someone else from my old school. It completely threw me off because: A) I didn’t recognize her at first (she was barely a teen the last time I saw her and now she’s a grown woman); and B) she so quickly recognized me. Again, insanely vanilla in appearance am I that I can still be identified by someone who last saw me when I was 17 years old. But though she recognized me on the outside, I was acutely aware that the person she saw on the outside was no longer home on the inside to the person she remembered from those days. The foundation is admittedly the same, but the rooms have been cleared out, given a fresh coat of paint, and completely redesigned.

I’m not really sure where I wanted to go with this post. It was just something on my mind as I sat here in my geek cave, watching the snowflakes tumble and twirl from the sky.

You’ve Come A Long Way, Baby…

~ lobablanca
Silly photographer! Holy Sci-Fi Trinities are for boys!

Know why I think this is one of the most bittersweet Trek photographs in existence? Because whoever composed this shot must have been under the same wonderful, fantastical, extremely naive delusion that I was under when I first discovered TNG. You know, that the famous holy trinity of “KirkSpockMcCoy” would somehow transfer to this new show and would morph into “PicardRikerCrusher.”

Never really worked like that for the Dancing Doctor, though, did it? No, Beverly was never given the respect (or screen time) afforded to the great Bones McCoy. So what happened? Why was Dr. Crusher never considered one of the big hitters from the cast? Was it because Gates McFadden wasn’t up to taking the role to that level? I would strongly disagree with that statement. Yeah, yeah, I’m biased. It’s my blog and she’s my favorite character. Piss off.

Or was it something more?

Let’s look at the other female characters from TNG’s first season. The lovely Deanna Troi. Counselor, empath, sexotic alien, galactic cheerleader. She didn’t really do a whole lot that first season beyond change outfits and hairstyles a couple times. And get a shitload of headaches. Actually, that’s pretty much a great summary of Deanna Troi for the first 6 seasons of TNG.

Then there was the feisty Tasha Yar. Security chief, dangerous, damaged, loyal, dead.

Poor Tasha, so much potential there, shackled by the proclivities of her IRL representative, Denise Crosby. Whether it was personal frustration over the lack of character development or TPTB not really digging all of Crosby’s craziness, the axe came down on Tasha before the first season was even over. Or rather the Ink and Metamucil Monster came down on her. Yes, that is what Armus was made of…printer’s ink and Metamucil. I’d be a killer anger blob, too, if I was made of such stuff.

Still, Tasha was able to return thanks to all that tasty alternate timeline goodness that has granted us the shit bog known as the new J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek universe. Tasha’s return is considered one of the best TNG episodes of the series. Tasha’s gift to the new timeline, however, is about as popular with fans as J.J.’s movie is with me.

I’m looking at you, Commander Sela. Genetically unfeasible (blond hair, blue eyes, and pink skin? Are you sure you’re half green-blooded Romulan?), insipid, uninspired, and ridiculous, Sela was one of the worst characters ever introduced to the Trek mythology. Even worse than Sybok. Better hair though.

[Trek Tangent: I still say the Sela storyline not only could have been salvaged, but done in such a way that they could have even made sense out of that whole blond hair/blue eye bullshiggidy. In fact, I once had a notion to write fanfic that would explain that Sela was actually Tasha Yar, captured from the alternate timeline, reprogrammed to believe she was this Romulan/Human hybrid, and kept in cryo-stasis until the Romulans could unleash her on her former crewmates. Hmm, maybe that can be my big writing project in 2010! No. No more living in other people’s worlds, remember? Besides, Ro might become irritated if you start invading her territory. And you know what happens when Ro gets testy…]

And Beverly. Beverly didn’t survive beyond the first season either. At least they didn’t kill her as well. The mystery behind why Gates McFadden wasn’t asked to return for the second season continues, as McFadden has never said anything more than “The producers wanted to go a different direction with the doctor character.” I’d love to know the truth, but I respect that it’s her truth to reveal or keep.

Dr. Crusher may not have remained on the NCC-1701-D when it fired up its warp drive for Season Two, but her son did. Yes, Wesley Crusher, eternal nerd king supreme, got to stay on board while his mom “went back to head Starfleet Medical.” Really? Way to undermine Dr. Crusher not only as a character but as a parent. (I can’t help but ask at this point: If “Wesley” had remained “Leslie” as the character was first intended to be, would she have been kept on board? Hmmm…)

But it kind of makes you wonder, what was Dr. Crusher’s greatest contribution to Trek lore? Her dedication as a doctor? Her Southern charm? Her wizened platitudes and her pithy catch phrase?

Nope. It was Wesley. She gave birth to her greatest contribution, just as Tasha, for better or for worse, gave birth to hers. Heck, even Deanna got in on the baby-making, giving birth to the horrible recycled Star Trek: Phase II plot originally meant for Decker and Baldy. Er Ilia.

And it wasn’t just the main female characters. Guest stars got in on the placental frenzy, too! Look at K’Ehleyr. Portrayed by the ever lovely, ever vivacious, ever delightful Suzie Plakson, K’Ehleyr was the Klingon/Human hybrid betrothed to Mr. Woof. She was strong. She was opinionated. She was feisty. She broke bones and drew blood when mating. And she color-coordinated like a fashion fiend.

And then they brought her back. With child. Oh, what a horrible child. Which was worse: Alexander or Sela? I’m going to choose Alexander, simply because they kept insisting on bringing him back to the party. They at least had the decency to let Sela slink into the shadows of non-canonical book plots.

But hold on! K’Ehleyr’s story isn’t over yet!

Oh, wait. Yeah it is. This delightfully entertaining character was Klingoned to death as a way to move along a dull Klingon plot and leave dull Worf stuck with a dull child and a dull “unintentional parent” plot that should have been killed instead of K’Ehleyr.

Omnipotent? Or omnipregnant?

But, fear not, Suzie fans! Suzie Plakson did get to return to the Trek universe. Her return didn’t come until Voyager, but she got to come back, prosthetic-free AND as a member of the most powerful alien race to exist in the Trek universe! Yes! She comes back as a Q! She gets to be snide. She gets to pout. She gets to deliver some Class-A omnipotent zingers to the Voyager crew.

Plakson rocked this guest spot like no one’s business, easily stepping into the imposing shoes of this omnipotent species and keeping up with the High Q-ness himself, John de Lancie. And what was the end result? She got to give birth. Again. This time to John de Lancie’s actual son, Keegan. All this happens off-screen, of course. We never see Suzie Q again. Personally, I think this is one of the biggest crimes of Voyager.

So, what’s the point of all this? I don’t really know. I guess I just think it’s a bit crazy and totally pathetic that this franchise that continues to be heralded as forward-thinking and trail-blazing was so chained to the weight of the female-as-babymaker stereotype. That doesn’t mean that I think women shouldn’t be portrayed as mothers in the future. But, really, if you think about it…they weren’t portrayed as mothers on Trek. They were portrayed only as having given birth. Suzie Q gave birth to Keegan Q, but they never interacted. K’Ehleyr may have been Alexander’s mother for the first three years of his life, but we never saw any of that. Tasha? Same thing with Sela.

And Beverly? Wil Wheaton recently made this comment about his memories of the TNG third season episode, “Evolution”:

Some memories (of the Future, durr) were crystal clear: how great it was to have Gates back, how excited I was to have an episode where Wesley wasn’t a weenie, and how cool it was to finally have scenes together where we interacted as mother and son in a believable way. [bold emphasis mine]

When even the Wunderkind recognizes that he didn’t really have much of a relationship with his mom, you know you’ve got a problem.

There were actually lots of problems with almost every single female character ever written for the Trek universe. This is just one of the many that’s been irking me as of late. And it all started when I saw that wonderful, sad photo at the very top of this post.

I really do love that photo. I love it because of how amazing they all look in their skinny spandex spacesuits. I love it for Gates’s big 80s “future” hair and Jonathan’s baby face and adorable chin dimple. And I love it for the promise that was broken before it was ever made. The promise that this Trek was going to be even more groundbreaking than its predecessor…was going to give us women on board who did more than answer the phone and bring the captain his coffee. These women grew up to be doctors and security chiefs and…Deanna. They were supposed to change the world, or at least the world view of women and their roles, both in the future and in the now.

I guess I’m still trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

How Kara Thrace Killed the Bionic Woman

~ lobablanca
I will smoke you good

Okay, so maybe Starbuck isn’t entirely guilty of this crime of bionicide. But it makes a catchy title, no?

What geekery has me in a lather now? It’s the 2007 attempt to restart the Bionic Woman television series. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I own the 2-DVD set released after this show’s inevitable cancellation. Of all the myriad ridiculous reasons behind my ownership is the fact that it’s awesome to play during my evening workouts. I just finished re-watching the eight episodes yet again. It’s a great sorbet in between my marathon viewings of shows like the new Battlestar Galactica and Star Trek: Voyager.

What struck me as particularly interesting during this re-viewing is how many BSG alumni pop up throughout BW. Of course, there is Katee Sackhoff, she of Starbuck fame, playing Jaime Sommers’s arch nemesis, Sarah Corvus. But Mark Sheppard (Romo Lampkin) played another recurring character, and Aaron Douglas (Chief Tyrol) and Callum Keith Rennie (Leoben Conoy) made guest appearances. I’m willing to bet there were others who crossed over as well, but I’m horrible at face recognition so these are the only ones I’ve got for you.

Seems like Universal was hell-bent on shuffling some of its BSG viewership ratings over to BW in the laziest way imaginable (of course, I’m sure it helped that the series creator was BSG producer/writer David Eick). Don’t worry about the writing…just make sure that those BSG actors are showcased in advertisements. Seems like Universal felt that loyalty among sci-fi geeks is transferable. Oh, how very wrong they were. Sci-fi geeks are some of the ficklest fans EVAR. Sure, maybe we’ll tune in originally because Kara Thrace and Leoben are there. But you’ve got to give us more to keep us. Plus, I didn’t even know who Kara Thrace was at the time. I was still in my “I’m not getting addicted to that fracking over-hyped sci-fi show” mindset. So those parallels were completely lost to me the first time around.

No, I came to BW because I loved the original Lindsay Wagner show when I was a wee Lobita. I’m still waiting for that series to be released on DVD, but thanks to legal issues between Universal and Dimension (one owns the show, and one owns the rights to the original source material), that might never happen. At least Hulu.com is currently showing the first season.

What I found was a reboot that, like most of the drivel that Hollywood spews out anymore, wasn’t worth the effort. I’d like to say that at least their hearts were in it…but if their “hearts” were anything like their focus, then they were all over the place. Just like the scripts. And the character development. And everything else for that matter. This show needed a lot more pre-planning before it ever headed to the development process. The characters needed way more fleshing out. Some of the characters were so last minute that they needed “Wet Paint” signs around their necks. Perfect example: Jaime’s little sister, Becca. That character was originally supposed to be deaf and was played by a completely different actress. Scrapped at the 11th hour, she instead became some kind of nondescript computer hacker fugitive. But only in the first episode. All subsequent appearances portrayed her as a typical surly teen with severe rebellious tendencies. Of course, I’d rebel, too, if I knew I was around only as a plot device that would just as quickly be forgotten whenever Big Sis needed to go on a covert mission that would inexplicably take her away for days at a time.

Hair? Check. Makeup? Check. Wardrobe? Check. Solid Character Development? Anyone? Oi!

Then there was Jaime herself. The new bionic woman is an early-20s college dropout-cum-bartender? Yeah, she gets all super-duper souped up because of an accident, but we learn in the second episode that her doctor/scientist/bionic savior dead BF had been keeping a dossier on her for years, apparently because he thought she would be perfect as his human lab rat for Berkut’s bionic program. Really? Why? Do something anything to establish right from the start what makes her so special. Besides the fact that she looks great wearing black leather and fighting in the rain with sexy Sarah Corvus. That was their first failure.

No. I take that back. Their first failure is the fact that the very first character we meet is Sarah Corvus. Anyone familiar with BSG knows that Katee Sackhoff thoroughly kicked ass as Starbuck. She equally kicked ass as Sarah Corvus. Every single time she appeared on BW, it was like getting a defibrillator jolt to a rapidly dying show. Sackhoff was literally the brightest spot of the series. She appeared in the first four episodes; the final four were decidedly Corvus-less. And that was when the already discordant show began to seriously unravel. It was like removing a jellyfish’s spine. All you’re left with is jiggly blubber.

[Okay, I’m way off in my biological comparisons right now, but cut me a little slack…my brain is still partially holiday-closed, dammit.]

Bottom line was that Michelle Ryan could not compare to Katee Sackhoff. The guest outshone the star each and every time. In Ryan’s defense, this was a) her first big starring role and b) her U.S. debut. So you put her up against an American actress with several years’ experience under her belt in working on a regular sci-fi series that’s heavy on action, heavy on CGI, heavy on everything that Ryan’s not used to? And you put her into a role that is severely under-developed on a show that is lacking even the pretense of knowing what it wants to become or where it wants to go?

Did anyone actually want Michelle Ryan, or for that matter, this show to succeed? Because, honestly, it’s a terrible show. Jaime Sommers as re-imagined by Eick & Co. is an abomination, an embarrassment to the genre. And that’s a serious shame. I wanted this show to succeed more than any other that debuted that 2007 TV season. I was so stoked about BW that I set my Outlook calendar to remind me when it was airing. I watched every episode during the original airing. Yes, I was 1 of the 12 who was still watching right up to the bitter end. I kept hoping that it would find its footing. But the writers’ strike pretty much knocked the sand-slippery slope that the show was already on right out from under it. Michelle Ryan returned to England, Katee Sackhoff went back to toasting skinjobs, and yet another show that could have been a beacon of brightness for women in a still decidedly male-dominated genre was completely doused.

Ah well. I still have my 2-DVD set. And I will say this: It’s awful, campy goodness that’s so laughably terrible that I easily forget about the horrible things I’m making my naturally sedentary body do for the 45-minute duration of the shows. That makes it solid platinum in my book.

Please Don’t Call Them Resolutions

~ lobablanca

Back at work for the first time of the new decade. W00t is in order, I suppose. It’s always so very difficult to get back into the work mindset after the holidays. It seems particularly difficult this year, what with the snow breaks and all. I knew, when we got 2 feet of snow before winter even started, that we were in for it but good this year. Snow flurries are expected tonight, and oh but it’s hella cold. Still in the upper 20s with an expected high of 32. These would be lovely temperatures if I was in England. Being in the States, however, I’m none too keen on them. I’d like to regain feeling in my toes at some point today.

It could be worse, I know. I heard on the news this morning that somewhere at the very tippy-toppy of Minnesota hit -33 degrees. I tried to process that information, but I think I pulled a muscle.

So, what’s the point of this post? I suppose to give a preview of things I’ve been thinking about doing here at the lair. I’m not calling them resolutions. I think those are silly. These are just things that I’d like to tackle this year. I like schedules and deadlines, and the beginning of the year seems like a nice place to start, no?

As I already mentioned, I’m not going to be doing the 50 Book Challenge again this year. I’m still going to be reading constantly, but at whatever pace I find most comfortable at the time. My main goal this year is to read only, or mostly, books that I own but have never read. I went through my shelves this weekend and collected about 40 books that fit this description. There are still others on the shelves like this, but the ones I chose are the oldest of the bunch. Some I don’t even remember buying.

Sigh.

Anyway, I went through last year’s list and discovered that of the 51 books I read, I own 30 of them. Of those 30, I’ve tagged 4 to be donated to the local thrift store: Resistance, One on One, The Road, and Before Dishonor. That might not sound like a lot to some, but for this book geek, that’s a huge milestone. If I can do the same thing this year, I’ll feel extremely accomplished.

I’m also going to do something similar with my DVD collection. I’ve got a disgusting number of DVDs. If I count all my special editions and television series, I think I’m well over 500 at the moment. I love movies almost as much as I love books. But I must admit that there are several DVDs in my collection right now that scream WTF. I haven’t watched them since I bought them…or I haven’t watched them at all. It’s time for a little culling of the DVD herd, so to speak. Time to target all those impulse buys from the used CD store or the various bargain bin buys I failed to resist. It will be a thorough review, not just of the movie itself but also of all the special features included on the DVD. It’s only fair to give the movie as fair a chance as possible to stay, right?

I plan on continuing Flashback Friday on a weekly basis. I know I missed last Friday and my Christmas post, while dealing with a favorite movie from my childhood, wasn’t tagged as a flashback…so I missed two in a row. I promise to fix that this week. I also plan on reviving my Poster Picks and Gaming Glory series. I don’t have a schedule for either, but I do have a few entries for each that I hope to tackle very soon.

The only other things you should expect here at the lair is a continuation of my geekery (life without Star Trek is not really life, IMHO), more PhotoShop phun, more silliness, more surliness, and more things that make absolutely no sense. I hope you’ll continue to visit. I do enjoy watching you all come and go through my tracking software.

Real world “things to come”? I suppose there are a few. More fun writing, of course. I’ve already started working on outlines for two short story ideas. Not sure if I’ll use either, but it’s nice to be thinking about them, to be thinking about writing again.

Also, I need to get back into my workout routine, which was completely derailed since Thanksgiving. I haven’t worked out for a solid week in a ridiculously long time, and I feel rather like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man because of this. It also didn’t help that the holidays bring with them all variety of culinary sins. So less sugar, more fruit. Even less rum and more water. EEK.

And more walking during the day. I’m already walking more anyway thanks to a parking garage shift, but I also think I’m going to start walking up the 11 flights of stairs to my office again. Not every day like I used to. Maybe every other day. Or at the very least, once a week. Definitely on any day that I’m not wearing my Janeway heels.

Yes, I own these shoes. I know, they look ridiculous and nothing like the comfortable Docs I prefer. But…well, I like how Amazonian I feel when I wear them. I easily graze the 6-foot mark when I wear these puppies. Yes, it’s silly. I’m already taller than most women in my office. But I like giving some of the guys a run for their money as well 😉

[Trek Tangent: As ridiculous as these shoes are, at least they aren’t as completely out-of-place in my working world as they were in Major Kira’s and Captain Janeway’s worlds. I never understood the logic behind putting Nana Visitor or Kate Mulgrew in the heels they wore with their uniforms. Even more ridiculous? Jeri Ryan’s heels. I’m surprised she never broke something when bouncing through the corridors or planetside. No wonder she’s in her fuzzy slippies here!]

YaY for TrekCore and their rare photos section!

Okay, I’ve prattled on enough for now. Time to get back to work. I’ve got miles to go before I sleep leave. Hope you all are off to a wonderful start to your 2010!

That’s Lovely…Could I Get It in a Smaller Size Though?

~ lobablanca

snowflurries

It started snowing last night at around 9 p.m. It hasn’t stopped since.

The meteorologists finally got this one right. If you live in the D.C. area, you understand precisely what I mean.

Biggest snow storm since Presidents Day weekend, 2003. I remember that storm very vividly. Spent 4 hours on the road, one way, trying to make it to one of the local airports. Don’t ask, because I’m not telling any more than that.

We’re in the band that’s expected to get nearly 2 feet of snow by the time this is all said and done. Not even officially winter yet. This does not bode well for getting out of this next season unscathed.

Even better? This isn’t even something we can blame Canada for! This is a gift straight from the Gulf of Mexico. Yeah, NAFTA!

Yes, before you ask, I’m cranky. Snow doesn’t inspire joy in me. It’s cold. It gets stuck all over your clothes and inside your Docs, then melts and puddles all over your floor, where you’ll inevitably step right into it in your fresh pair of dry socks. It’s heavy to shovel, slippery, makes a mess of an already awful driving situation. I’ve lost the ability to see it with the wonder and joy of a 10-year-old whose sole goal is to get outside and start building snowcats and snowdogs (why on Bajor would I build a boring old snowperson?).

What happened? Having to drive in snow, for one. It sucks. Sammy is a marvel in weather like this, though. I continue to be blown away by his winter weather skillz. However, his skillz do not transmit to the ass clowns on the road with me. I may not have seen fire or rain, but I’ve seen some scary shiznit out there. You really haven’t been a Beltway rat until you’ve watched a car spin out on a diagonal path from one side of the Inner Loop to the other. In slow motion.

Truth? Snow makes me think of Jodie. You should have seen her in the snow, denizens. This beautiful, wonderful dog who hated rain so much that I had to buy an umbrella large enough to cover both of us when she needed to go for a potty walk…but put her in a field of snow, and she was off. Like a bright flash of light. It was then when the Husky side of her completely overpowered the Labrador side.

snodie

Snow makes me miss her all the more. It’s been more than 4 years now. I didn’t even mourn the loss of my first dog quite this long. I don’t really know how to explain it. Yes, she gave me love and devotion that I knew I didn’t deserve. But in return, I tried to give her every drop of love and loyalty that she did deserve. She was a wonder of a dog, unlike any I’ve ever known in my lifetime. Unlike any I’ll probably ever be lucky enough to know again. She could even make a curmudgeon like me spring through snowdrifts like a jackrabbit, running to keep up with her, laughing because there was no way I could.

Snow brought her joy, kind of the way everything brought her joy (well, except bath time…and that creepy Oompa Loompa vet back home). So snow should, by proxy, bring me joy as well, shouldn’t it?

Besides, it’s Saturday. I’ve got nowhere I absolutely have to be today. Yeah, I’m still short on holiday shopping. But there’s a pot of split pea soup on the stove, a special blend of caramel dark roast coffee brewing, and a whole lot of time to do with as I please. Is that really a bad thing?

I’ll let you know after lunch… 😉

snowbranches

Is That a Banana In Your Pocket…?

~ lobablanca

bananu

I haven’t been eating bananas every day like I usually do. That’s the excuse I’m using for what happened.

See, potassium deficiency apparently runs in my family. Lack of potassium has certain side effects, one of which is horrible muscle cramps in your legs.

Like the one that woke me up this morning at 5 a.m. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I can sleep through anything. Almost anything. Having my calf muscle twisted into an Auntie Anne pretzel shape apparently does not fall under the “Almost Anything” category. The pain is excruciating but quick, although the soreness lingers. I can still feel the remnants of that sweet agony in my every limping move today.

It’s days like this that burst my mental image of me still being on the edge of 17 (guess no white-winged doves will be singing for me today, eh, Stevie?).

So I went back to my banana pattern this morning. Want to know a secret though? I hate bananas. Unless they’re barely ripe…skin still a bit green. Firm flesh.

Sorry, I really don’t mean to sound vulgar in my description, but that’s how I like my bananas. If they’re too ripe (what most people would probably consider “normal”), I can’t stand them. I’ll get through maybe half a banana at that stage before I simply can’t go on.

I especially can’t stand listening to another person eat a banana. Nails on a chalkboard? Don’t bother me. The gooey, viscous shlup of someone masticating banana bites? Oh, the humanity! I have left conversations in which someone was eating a banana. It’s either that or trying to explain why I just shattered a molar in an effort to refrain from sucker-punching them.

Is that normal? Of course not. Am I normal? If you can’t already answer that question, you need to spend a little more time perusing the lair. I’ll wait…

…

Done? Good. I suppose I could just start taking potassium tablets. But I hate the thought of taking vitamins. Isn’t it better for you to get your vitamins and minerals from natural sources? I also know that there are lots of other foods out there that are as rich with potassium as bananas. Bananas are, however, the most convenient to eat on a daily basis.

Just as long as they’re young and firm…

[Yeah, I was being unnecessarily dirty just then.]

Drinking Up the Dregs of My Brain

~ lobablanca

End of the year. My brain is all over the place. Forgive me, denizens, if I fail to make sense.

Lots of flotsam, pushing at the edges of my noodly noggin, clawing for the chance to see the light of the lair.

If Scooby Doo had a sister, would her name be “Booby Doo”?

See that? That’s the kind of shiznit I would post if I had a Twitter account. Kind of makes you glad I don’t, eh?

My ImagiFriendsTM tweet. They tweet lovely, silly geekery that makes me giggle gloriously while glugging raktajinos spiked with rum. Don’t follow? Don’t worry. Spliff on this tweet:

Most people don’t realize Janeway’s voice is pure molten sex.

janeway

Oh HELLS yeah.

Award for most awesomest tweet of the year? Make it so. Even if tweeted in jest, it makes me that much prouder of my Janeway impersonation. Not that I do such a thing. Or would ever record doing such a thing for others to hear.

Heh.

Do any of you ever get the feeling that you’re only getting part of the picture when you come here to the lair? Like it’s a little window that doesn’t show you even half of what’s going on. In the night. In the dark. There’s a whole lot more going on in the shadows…you just have to wait for me to invite you deeper.

I’m not feeling fa-la-la-festive just yet. Where’s Dr. Noel when I need a little injection of holiday cheer? Oh yeah. Kirk found her under the mistletoe. Guess he’s decorating her Jefferies tube now. Where does he store that photon torpedo?

OMG, Trexual innuendo!

I’m usually surly around this time of year. I don’t know why. I suppose I’m an emotional Scrooge in some ways. Mmm, portmanteau: Scrooge = Screw + Gouge. Did I impress anyone with my word nerdery just then? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

I used to decorate my door here at work. Truth? I only did it for the Benjamins. Well, the door prize, really. I only won once though. Want to see the sexy that won?

bouncerrudy

He’s R

You Really Shouldn’t Take That Out In Public

~ lobablanca

I have a lot of opinions about a lot of things (I’m sure you hadn’t noticed). And most of the time, my opinions go against the “popular” opinion (again, really?). I know, therefore, to keep my honest comments about these things to myself. It’s how I’ve survived as many football seasons as I have without being defenestrated by pissed-off Redskins fans.

Sometimes, though, I forget to keep my facial expressions in check. Sometimes, my autonomic response system is simply too fast for my brain.

So, to the grown woman in the airport on Friday who quickly hid her copy of New Moon under her coat when she saw how I was looking at her before my brain could set my facial expression back to “neutral”: Good. You should be embarrassed to be reading that shit.

[I hope you all know that I’m crying a little on the inside for actually being happy that I discouraged someone from reading. That goes against everything I hold dear about literature.

Oh, wait. It wasn’t literature. It was a Stephenie Meyer book. Never mind.]

dude_twilight

The Final Countdown

~ lobablanca

No, I’m not referring to that Europe song. Although, to be fair, the song is probably more entertaining than this post will be.

It’s the week before Christmas and all through the lair, Loba has been scurrying about, trying to finish her Loba-mas shopping. I thought I was pretty well off and so, like the lazy little hare, I shuffled off to the side of the road to nap a little. Now the holidays have engulfed me with all their slow, deliberate, turtley inevitability and I’m left with the ticking of the clock echoing loudly in my head (although that might just be the natural echo from all that space between my ears).

I’m horrible at gift giving.

funny-pictures-cat-christmas-present

Okay, maybe not that horrible. I do get a bit anxious, however, regarding what to give people. I’m not even sure why. But I stress over presents like Lady GaGa stresses over someone catching a glimpse of her special holiday “package.”

[I’m sorry, Marius. That just slipped out. Blame weathereye.]

Gift giving should be more enjoyable, right? I’d love to blame the stress on the current societal attitude toward the importance of materialism, but really it comes down to me being insecure about my gift choices. I always think that the things that I pick for people are lame. Which I know on some level that they’re not. It’s not like I’m giving out the Clapper for Christmas.

The Clapper, people. Not the Clap. Bunch of perverts.

I just need to relax a bit. Breathe deeply a few times and remind myself of the one undeniable truth: If all other ideas fail, alcohol is always a great answer. Not as a gift. Just for me. 😉

Anyway, since you lasted this long, I might as well grant you this payoff. Enjoy!