Archive for August, 2012

Posted: August 25, 2012 by baki3626 in Notifications

Good afternoon good people! It is my great honor to introduce you to my esteemed colleauge and friend Susan “Athena” Holland. Recently Athena wrote a post that I enjoyed so much that I just had to share it with my own blogging community. Slap your eyeballs on this! You won’t be sorry.

The Geekiest Girl

pssst: click the pic to get to the site to buy this beauty! Thx

Update 8/29/12: Since I first posted this, 3 of the 4 musicians on this album tweeted about it! How awesome is that? (WarRock was busy – he and a friend’s tech tools were stolen [they both make their living online], so he rocked a 24 hour rap-a-thon to raise enough money to replace their tools AND had enough left over to donate more than $1200 to charity. Way to turn that lemon into champagne! You can read all about it here.)

Fun Razor = fundraiser. Mikal kHill, Tribe One, Jesse Dangerously and Adam WarRock are nerdcore hip-hop musicians going on tour this fall and doing everything themselves. That’s right: they book, promote and get their own selves and gear to each show. And they need our help.

Fun Razor gives us awesome tunes and we give these independent musicians gas money. Nifty…

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I don’t get to watch a ton of television that doesn’t include humanoid vehicles or talking ponies, but when I do, I revel in that time.  Imagine my surprise that in four years of not consistently watching adult primetime, I find that Ryan Seacrest has taken over the airwaves.  He’s got “American Idol,” “Keeping up with the Kardashians” and quite a few more gigs that he is either hosting or producing.  Well, “Good for him,” I say!  He was even able to partake in some Olympic 2012 coverage, which spared me an entire 2 weeks of Bob Costas narration, but I kind of feel like he’s everywhere, which quite frankly, has me concerned that he’s planning to take over Earth and its inhabitants in a hostile fashion.   Could it be?

I feel his presence everywhere and anytime I turn the channel whether it is on television or radio, he’s there.  I was watching the 25th Anniversary of “Shark Week” on the Discovery Channel this past month, and I’m watching it thinking, “Thank God that Ryan Seacrest doesn’t host ‘Shark Week,’” yet, this is the vision that pops into my mind…

And this…

 And this next one is by far the worst…

All I can say is, “Well played, Ryan Seacrest.  Well played indeed”.   Not only are you taking over the airwaves, you’re taking over ocean waves too.   I guess that’s why they call you “SEAcrest”.   Just keep your filthy mitts off of “Finding Nemo” and other Disney cartoons I watch with my son, and we’re square; otherwise, I’ll have nowhere to escape your plan to go all “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” on me and the rest of Earth.  I’ve heard people refer to him as, “The new Oprah Winfrey.”  I mean, if I was a Pod Person, that’s exactly whose body I’d take over first.  Could Ryan Seacrest REALLY be a body snatcher?  Could this really be?

Yep.   It be.

D5: “The Bruiser”

Posted: August 20, 2012 by baki3626 in Comic Monday
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Name: Terri Burnes

Code Name: Dexx

Height: 5’5

Weight: 110

Age: 28

Background: S.W.A.T.

Expertise: Hand to hand combat

Weapon of choice: bare-knuckle

Powers/Abilities: Able to greatly heighten adrenaline for super-human strength, speed and reflexes

Quote: “Always leave ’em bleeding.”

Terri Burnes comes from a long line of crooks, hoods and all around lawless lowlifes. By her fifth birthday, Terri had already been an accomplice to over a dozen crimes with her parents. The family mainly stuck to carjacking and petty theft but was eventually persuaded to dabble in armed robbery by a dirty cop. During a bank robbery gone wrong, Terri’s parents were gunned down in a shoot out with the police. 

At the age of nine, an orphaned Terri was forced to enter the first of many foster homes. After a few years of neglect, abuse or both from several foster families, she decided to take her chances on the streets by herself. Terri successfully carried on the family business for a while and managed to fend for herself. Stealing what she could when she could and fighting who she had to when she had to.

At the age of fourteen, Terri got busted by an undercover cop while boosting a car. But it wasn’t just any cop. It was one of the cops that had shot Terri’s parents years earlier. Whether out of guilt or  a sense of responsibility, Sergeant Wiggins took in Terri and decided to raise her like she was his own.

To deal with her anger and violent tendencies, Sergeant Wiggins put Terri in an MMA gym four days a week. Before long, she was just as formidable as any of her male counterparts.

After high school, Terri decided to follow the family business again. Only this time, the business was on the other side of the law. She quickly earned a spot on S.W.A.T. and proved herself every step of the way. After working with Commander Allana Givens on a high-profile case, Terri was requested by the commander to be part of the “DEFCON 5” unit. 

During the infamous “Green Case” mission, that left every team member with special abilities, Terri ended up getting the ability to push her adrenaline well past the threshold of ordinary people making her temporarily stronger and faster than just about anybody else. However, this super adrenaline does temporarily age Terri as well. Her hair turns gray anytime she pushes herself and she crashes hard when she stops.


Welcome back for another heaping of childhood trauma! Now where did I leave off last time? Oh that’s right. Something along the lines of…

“DDDAAAAMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Give or take an exclamation point, of course.

My skateboard, my magnificently crafted utopia on four wheels, had careened into the infamous “Tunnel of Doom” like a pair of dentures into a mouth full of gingivitis! It was now trapped in the wild black yonder alone and scared.

Now, you could say that it was my fault for skating him in there with all the grace and poise of an inebriated rhino. Or that I never should have placed my rollable little friend in the runoff gutters in the first place. But we all know it was my little brother Brian “BD” Dickens fault. Not sure how exactly but it was. Probably had something to do with that helmet he was wearing. Thing could distract a pregnant woman while she was in labor.

“So…what’re we gonna do?!” excitedly asked BD the guilty little helmet wearer.

We’re gonna send your little butt in there after it!!” I very calmly replied.

“We are?!”

“Of course! I can’t fit in there!”

“Yea, but I don’t think I can either!

“Well you should’ve thought of that before I skated my board in there! Now get on your tiny knees and start crawling!”

Having been moved by my powerful words and perhaps a verbal threat or two, BD reluctantly removed his trusty yet ugly-ass skate helmet as he got to his knees. I think he might’ve mumbled something about “If I don’t make it, tell my mom I love her.” But I honestly wasn’t paying much attention. My skateboard was in trouble! And I wasn’t gonna let anything keep BD from getting it back for me! Not some scary tunnel with slime ridden walls, not plague carrying rats, not BD’s crippling claustrophobia, nothing!

After several minutes of cowardice, BD finally poked the upper half of his body into the terrifying tunnel.

“Do you see it?” I bravely asked from a safe distance.

“If I say yes, will you let me out of here?” asked the helmet-less BD.

“Of course, buddy!”

“Yea, it’s a little ways up. But I can’t quite reach…” I quickly grabbed BD’s little legs and started shoving him in like a pickle into a barrel.

“Grab it! Grab it!” I politely yelled at the top of my lungs.

“Ow…OWWW!!! Stop! STOPPP!!!” he exclaimed for some reason.

“Just hurry up and grab it already!”

“I can’t! it’s too far! Now pull me out! These rats are really mean!”

Realizing that my little brother was ironically too little to reach the object of my affection forced me to reassess the situation. I yanked,..I mean, gingerly pulled the little guy out of the sewer pipe and started working on another tactic while he inspected his rat bites.

“What if I grabbed you from the back and kinda threw you into…”

“I’ll tell Lindsey about that dream you had.” Said BD quickly.

“Alright, alright, fine! I won’t throw you. But what if we threw something else?”

So we quickly scrounged up some rocks and put plan “B” into place. It was fool-proof…in theory.  I’d throw rocks at the skateboard from the top end of the tunnel and try to knock the board out of the bottom end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, because the tunnel was so dark, I couldn’t see it  from the upper entrance. But the skateboard was visible from the bottom end. So BD was going to wait at the bottom and keep an eye on it. If I hit it, he’d let me know and I’d aim for that same area again. Like I said, the plan was fool-proof. Too bad we were idiots.

“Just shout out which direction I need to aim!” I yelled to my partner in buffoonery. “I probably won’t hit it the first time!”

“Ok.” Said idiot number 2.

I threw a rock into the tight, cylindered abyss like a pitcher on a tee-ball team. It hit nothing but wall. And maybe a rat or two.

“Aim it more center!” he yelled like a verbal conductor at a symphony.

I reared back and threw another rock into the rat highway.

“What’s the word?!” I asked. “Did I hit it, BD ?!” This time, I managed to avoid the walls and the rats and also the skateboard. “Hey BD did I…?!….BD? Um…” But, I did hit my little brother….hard.

When the little guy finally regained consciousness, we decided to move on to another plan.

“The rocks were a bad idea,” I professed like a world renown sage. “We’d  have to hit the board a million times to get it out of there. They’re just too small.”

BD and the softball size lump in his forehead stared at me with restrained malice as I spoke.

“Oh, and they hurt. But I’m guessing you’d know that better than me, ‘ey bud?.” I fearfully chuckled.

Plan “C” would’ve made Wile E. Coyote himself proud. Which should tell you something. We figured that if small and apparently painful objects were the problem before, we’d go the exact opposite direction. We thought a well placed basketball would surely knock the skateboard out of that constipated pipeline. So, I lined up my shot like a professional bowler with type II diabetes and let ‘er rip right into the pie hole of the tunnel. Amazingly, the ball actually made it almost half way into the tunnel before it got stuck.

“Hmmm. Honestly didn’t see that coming.” I remarked.

“Imagine that.” said BD with an ice pack draped over his forehead.

“Don’t worry, ice-face. I’ve got a little back-up plan.”

“You have a back-up plan and you want me not to worry?” inquired BD with full support.

I quickly scooped up all kinds of balls from our houses. Volleyballs, footballs, even tennis balls. Nothing was off-limits.

“Alright, so the first thing we gotta do is get the basketball unstuck.” I proudly pontificated. “Then we can use all the rest of the balls to get out the skateboard. It’s perfect!”

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” asked BD…again.

“You ask me that so often that it’s lost all meaning.”

And without any more pessimism or good sense from BD, I started chucking a couple of balls into the unforgiving black hole. To my genuine surprise, the basketball didn’t budge. So I threw in a few more. And it only seemed to get more stuck. I unfurled every piece of throw-able sporting equipment we had into that damn dark tube! And it didn’t care! Like an expectant mother at a buffet, what it took, it kept!

“Son-of-an ass-head!!” I casually remarked in passing. “We’re completely out of balls, ideas and time! My mom is gonna be home any minute, man! And when she sees what happened she’ll kill me! And that’s if she’s in a good mood!”

“Would your dad kill you?” wisely asked BD.

I pondered the little guy’s question as the clock to my demise ticked further down.

You see, my mom bought me the skateboard for my birthday after I begged her for it. It was expensive, dangerous and she hated doing it. But she did so because she wanted to shut me up. And it worked. My dad on the other hand, didn’t even know when my birthday was and couldn’t care less about some  skateboard I had.

“No BD, he wouldn’t!!”

Now it was time for plan “D” for “Dad.” BD and I quickly ran to our respective houses and grabbed our dads. We figured the two of them working together would be able to come up with a solution twice as fast. BD and I regaled them with our dumb-ass exploits at break neck speed and awaited their council. Without a word of debate or even acknowledgement, our dads casually gazed into the tunnel of doom and were as unimpressed at our crisis as they would be watching an infomercial starring George Foreman at 3:00 am.

Plan “D” was ingenious. It was inspired. It was basically just taking two big-ass 2 x 4’s and shoving them into one end of the tunnel until everything came vomiting out the other end Olsen Twin style.

Our dads never did say anything to our moms about the “Tunnel of Doom” incident. They never even got mad at us about what happened.  They made no threats and issued no warnings about what would happen if we ever did anything so stupid again. They never had to. Because everybody knows that a real tough guy speaks softly yet carries a big stick. And holy bacon wrapped blue jeans dipped in caramel sauce, sticks don’t come much bigger than giant, rat-proof, tunnel length 2 x 4’s!!!

The End…until next time

D5: “The Philosopher”

Posted: August 13, 2012 by baki3626 in Comic Monday
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Name: Percy Hicks

Alias: Impact

Age: 31

Height: 6’2

Weight: 220

Background: Army

Expertise: Long range firearms

Weapon of choice: FAMAS bullpup rifle

Powers/Abilities: Builds perpetual energy by moving

Quote: “Life finds a way of testing your faith regardless of whether or not you have any.”

Despite his current size, Percival “Percy” Hicks was originally considered to be the runt of the litter. The youngest of  five of boys, he was constantly reminded by his older brothers that they were bigger, stronger and tougher than him. But what Percy lacked in physical strength he more than made up for in will. In order to deal with his brothers ceaseless abuse, he turned inward. Instead of playing sports and games like most kids, he studied meditation, classical music and art. As somewhat of a spiritual prodigy, Percy managed to reach inner peace by puberty.

After high school, Percy joined the peace corps. While working with the corp in Cambodia, a shaman had his home attacked by a few stray soldiers from a rebel militia. Without any formal training or weapons, Percy was able to defeat the soldiers. For the first time in his life, Percy saw the value in fighting for a cause and he soon left the peace corps to join the military.

Upon joining the army, Percy discovered that he had a talent for working in a unit. He followed orders as well as he gave them and epitomized leadership. His level-headed approach to combat and bizarrely insightful tactics were soon noticed by his superiors and as a result he was dubbed “the philosopher.” One such superior was  Commander Allana Givens AKA “Apex”. After working just one mission with Percy, Allana made a request to have him assigned to the DEFCON 5 project with her.

During one unfortunate mission for DEFCON 5, Percy and the entire team were mortally wounded and presumed dead. Yet miraculously Percy, along with his team, all awoke in a hospital days later. But they all awoke changed. Percy in particular had grown from 5’9, 180 pounds to 6’2, 220. He also gained the ability to perpetually build energy and speed with every movement he makes with virtually no upper limits. Unfortunately, this constantly surging energy has left Percy unable to ever sleep again.

Let Them Eat Cake…and Cookies

Posted: August 8, 2012 by baki3626 in Ferne's World
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My son turned four last week, and like I expected him to, he requested a Super Mario Galaxy party.  If you recall from one of my previous blog posts “You’re a Mother of Sorts,” you’ll remember that Will thinks Super Mario Galaxy 2 on the Wii is the mecca of Mommy/Will playtime. 

I don’t know why I decided to get all Martha Stewart on the situation, but I chose to make Will’s cake and cookies from scratch rather than order from one of our esteemed and talented local bakeries.  I’ve never made a cake; although, I’ve eaten a ton of it.  When Marie Antoinette said, “Let them eat cake,” I was like, “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”  Notice how Marie Antoinette didn’t say, “Let them bake cake.”  That’s because baking is hard, and she didn’t want any of her subjects to have to endure hard, physical labor.  Good looking out, Marie.

If you don’t believe baking is hard, See Exhibit A. 


I found the recipe for homemade lofthouse cookies here.  You know, the ones at the grocery store that are super soft and have a buttload of yummy frosting on them?  Well, this lady’s cookies have the fluffiest icing and just look scrumptious.  Mine don’t look like that, and mine took about four hours to prep and bake.  According to my husband, mine look like, “Hamburger patties with melted cheese and olives.”  Guess who didn’t get any cookies?  Kidding….

Baking is also messy.  See Exhibit B.


See how in that one picture it looks like my cake was baked in a waffle iron?  I did that on purpose…. Note to self:  When the cake recipe calls for a specific cake pan size, it’s probably a good idea to follow those directions, especially if you’re a novice because you’ll have to start over. 

LUCKILY, buttercream icing is like glue, so I was able to hide some of my less conspicuous imperfections.  Yay for cake glue!  Once I got past the hard parts (baking) I was able to get to the fun part of decorating.  See Exhibit C. 


I carved that joker myself because I’m too good for shaped cake pans (actually, they just didn’t have mushroom shaped cake pans at the craft store.)  At least I can cut a straight line.  After all that, here’s the final result.


I gave myself a little pat on the back for this first time attempt, and it was pretty darn delicious, if I may say so.  It did take roughly 8 hours total between this cake and the cookies, so I don’t think I’ll be quitting my day job, but I’m pretty stoked about the outcome.   

Now y’all don’t go losing your heads over how awesome this is; it seems a bit silly to lose your head over some cake.  And a big Happy 4th Birthday to my little guy.