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

Whilst visiting my dad and his siblings this weekend for a combined August birthday celebration, I saw the following poster hanging on the wall beside the kitchen telephone. It’s something that my dad found while he was sorting through some papers from my grandparents’ belongings.

Isn’t it the grooviest thing you’ve ever seen? Especially considering that it was printed by the Government Printing Office, which admittedly isn’t renowned for its awesome artistry. But this fairly screams “I was designed in the 60s!! I’m groovy and far out!”

Dig it, man. Dig it.

There’s a new meme that’s circulating through teh Interwebz. I’m not going to link to it or tell you anything more about it than it’s a parody song written as a “tribute” to a very famous science fiction author. All it really is, though, is someone being crude for the sake of being crude, in this wolf’s humble, whiny opinion. Yet another example of someone wasting their talent just for the shallow shock value of it all.

Needless to say, viewing this inferior meme has made me want to combat it with something far more pleasing. Something like this video for Oren Lavie’s song “Her Morning Elegance.” This is what clever, creative, and classy looks like. Hope you enjoy!

Kind of swamped at work, and I’ve been doing fun things away from work (things that I may or may not discuss here at a later time…). Thus are my excuses for any dip in appearances here at the lair.

Mea culpa, denizens.

Here, then, is a photo apology. Here is…BUNNEH. I snapped a shot of this little guy during my Father’s Day visit to North Carolina (yes, it’s been a while…I’m quite behind in posting photos here as well, but hope to resolve this soon with some very exciting photos taken during a recent away team mission).

I think my favorite thing about this photo isn’t even part of the actual image. Instead, it’s the memory of my dad yelling to me as I stalked Bunneh with my telephoto lens, “I think there’s something wrong with that rabbit. He should have run away by now. Why is he just sitting there? Is he frothing? You know, there have been several cases of rabies reported recently in this state. You might not want to get any closer!”

I wanted so desperately to make a Holy Grail Killer Bunny comment at this point in his monologue, but sadly, my dad has never seen the movie.

“Run away! Run away! Run away!”

It's just a harmless little bunny, innit?

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.

Okay, so that should probably be the other way around. These Docs are way too sexy for me. Even in a supremely over-saturated photo in which I effed with the colors like no one’s business, they’re still teh awesome. Also, doesn’t this shot scream that it belongs on the cover of some 90s indie alt-rock band’s CD? Makes me want to slip into my flannel and rock out to The Breeders or Pearl Jam. Want a better look at them?

This is more true to their original color (and mine, too…freckled knee and all!). They’re two-toned leather: black and metallic purple. Plus, they’ve got killer-high soles and steel toes. No other real point to these pics…or this post, for that matter. Was feeling slightly experimental with my camera this evening and wanted to give some love to a pair of my Docs that don’t really see much action anymore. Although they were great for clubbing, they look a tiny bit out of place when I wear them to work. Of course, that doesn’t stop me from wearing them anyway…

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

Well, that was a Grand Diva blog post title, wasn’t it? I’m weathering unbelievable life tsunamis on multiple fronts right now, which unfortunately means the lair gets neglected. It’s not really how I’d like things. Then again, I do like getting a regular paycheck, so there you go.

However, I am thinking of you all, dear denizens. Which is why I bring you this link for PointlessSites.com. The name is pretty self-explanatory, no? I found this link several years ago, visited it with great frequency for a while, then completely forgot about it. Until I came upon the link a few minutes ago while searching through one of my personal e-mail inboxes.

Yes, I said one of. Don’t ask. The answer isn’t worth it.

And, hell, because I’m in a giving mood, here’s another of my favorite photos from TrekCore.com. Featured is, of course, the ever lovely Gates McFadden, hugging the fantastically talented, “I would have given anything in the world to work with him” makeup artist extraordinaire Michael Westmore. To those who are not familiar with Westmore, he was “Da Man” when it came to makeup designs for all the Star Trek spinoffs. If I remember my trivia correctly, he created the look for the Ferengi, the Bajorans, the Cardassians…even the Ocampa and the Kazon (okay, so there are duds here and there). He was also the one who personally hand-painted each and every one of Jadzia Dax’s leopard spots, which he would then sign. Honest! Oh, and he started out as Butch “I’m Eddie Munster” Patrick’s makeup artist on The Munsters. How effing cool is that?

So this is usually how it goes. I log on and open up Firefox (because there is no other browser worthy of my time). I have an inbox full of things that I need to work on today…but, wait, I’d also like to check my personal e-mail. Oh, look, someone sent me a link to a YouTube video. That was funny. Ooh, look, it recommends another video I might like. Well…okay. Oh, that was funny, too! And so was that one. And that one…

OR…hey, I saw a great movie last night on DVD. I’m just going to check it out really quickly on IMDb. Ooh, lots of trivia there. What? There’s an alternate ending that wasn’t on the DVD? Well, I have to see it! Back to YouTube. What do you mean, it’s been removed for copyright infringement? Well, we’re just going to have to try harder to find it, that’s all. Oh, and who was that guy playing the third police officer? I’ve seen him before in something…

OR…well, you get the picture, right? There are so many digital White Rabbits to follow, aren’t there? And they inevitably lead you down all variety of rabbit holes, which lead deeper and deeper until you’ve found the woman in the red dress and that damned cat appears twice and you know bloody Kung Fu. And that, Mr. Anderson, is the real sound of inevitability.

Damned Interwebz.

And then there are the memes. Even if you didn’t know before what they were called, you know what they are. Anyone living virtually has encountered at least one, maybe not even realizing it when it happens. Like the horribly obvious PhotoShopped “final image” from a World Trade Center tourist’s camera, which was then promptly spoofed a million times over. This, of course, would be my favorite of the series:

Or what about memes that flew below your radar for the most part until someone else you follow mentions it? Or spoofs it? WHEATON!!! Now I have to know more about the Trololo Guy! Or not.

Then there are the badgers. STUPID EFFING BADGERS! I had this stuck in my head for days. I even caught myself singing it as I was walking to the kitchen. Of course, I had to know more about this meme. This is how the White Rabbit traps you! And look! There are others! Zombie Badgers! Christmas Badgers! Footy Badgers!

ENOUGH!

But, wait! Why can’t we make money off our memes? Oh. Well, guess that answers my question. Really? A six-figure income for what pretty much comes down to exploiting your son for a laugh? Yes, it was funny. And some of the spoofs have been spectacular.

Wait, who the hell is Chad Vader?

OMGWTFBBQ!

And there you go. Just look at how long it took you to get through this one post (imagine how long it took me to write it!). And I didn’t even mention things like RickRolling, Fingerstaches, PhotoBombing, Numa Numa, Chocolate Rain, or even this…hell, I don’t even know what this is. But now the song is stuck in my head.

Damn. What the hell was I supposed to be doing?

Trying extremely hard to be beautiful, succeeding in an obviously fake way, and possessing no real substance beneath the pretty.

I have a nerd notebook in which I write nerd notes about nerdy things. I wrote this about Avatar. I honestly don’t even remember writing it, but it made me laugh this morning when I discovered it while looking for something else in my notes.

My apologies to Avatar and James Cameron for the harsh comparison.