VK's Pizza Adventures 2

Freschetta Rising Crust 5/10
DiGiorno Stuffed Crust 4/10
Losta Mozza 4/10

Out of the three the Freschetta was the best. It looked at tasted pretty much exactly like your bog standard DiGiorno rising crust pizza, but was a dollar cheaper.

It's not the tastiest thing in the world, but I can get 2-3 meals out of one for $5. It's kind of hard to write up something that's pretty "meh," there's no emotion there to channel into the writing with how good or how bad it is.

I'd be hard pressed to bring up the sort of hyperbole that comes with a good or bad pizza with sheer neutrality. I just can't do it.

It's a middle of the road pizza, nothing really to write home about.

5/10

VK's Pizza Adventures 1

Totino's Party Pizza 2/10
Bellatoria Ultra Thin Crust Ultimate Pepperoni 4/10

Cooked one of the little Totino's party pizzas today along with a Bellatoria Ultra Thin Crust, both the usual Pepperoni.

The only positive thing I have to say about the Totino's is that is isn't near as horrible as I remember it. It's pretty awful, very bland, no real pepperoni flavor from the light dusting of itty bitty pepperoni cubes, had to be literally scraped off my oven rack, and has a tendency to fall apart while I'm picking it up and eating it.

It's edible and cheap, and I can see somebody who is worse off then me getting them so they have an affordable reminder of the glory that is a proper pizza.

VK's Pizza Notes vol. 1

VK's are not terribly fond of Provolone on pizza. Stick with straight mozzarella.

10 minutes on 550 for the introductory crust worked well, slightly more lead to burned spots, though. Get off your butt and get it out of the oven.

13 minutes at 500 blackened the deli pepperonis, but it doesn't matter because they still taste good.

Do NOT get big bags of cheese at Sam's Club anymore. By the time you want to make pizza again it gets all gross.

Spices go in the sauce, try leaving them out of the crust next time so your doggy can enjoy them being garlic free. Because you're sure as hell not eating them.

UWA Outbreak #10, Kalinda RP 1/1: Of Upper Deckers and Poo-filled Purses

I've just spent the last half hour unloading my thoughts, feelings, and frustrations out on the table. Giving voice to all the problems I'm having in my life. I'm being employed by a professional wrestling company that refuses to treat me like a legitimate professional wrestler, rather than a big blue stage prop. A springboard for other peoples' careers.

If you had a list of traits to give the ultimate professional wrestler, strength, agility, durability, charisma, presence, a unique look, a keen wit, and so on and so forth ad nasuem, I'd check all the boxes.

But instead of having a massive seven foot tall woman for whom running the ropes does not mean bouncing back and forth, but running atop them like some kind of circus acrobat as the center of their product identity, instead my employer has decided to ignore me, and instead always focus on whomever I'm facing.

I'm the most unique wrestler on their roster, and three quarters of the time I'm just thrown into some random match without rhyme or reason. You'd think folks would be falling all over themselves to put somebody so unique and so popular with the fans in big time marquee matchups that the fans have been clamoring to see.

But nope. On the biggest wrestling show of the year I'm treated like leftovers. A meaningless match with a man in the twilight of his career who agrees that it's a meaningless match, that I'm going to kick his ass, and he doesn't understand why we've been put in the position we were by management.

UWA Outbreak #9, Kalinda RP 1/1: Babysitting Two Kinds of Self-Absorbed, Destructive, Misbehaving Children

July had been a busy (and fruitful) month for my little side career of draining the essence of things that go bump in the night in the hopes of getting enough magic juice to fire up a nice, stable portal between dimensions and cart my big blue butt back where it belonged.

I'd managed to put an end to a pesky regiment of British undead whose spectral forms would possess buried bones and claw their way to the surface every July 4th, feebly attempting to bring the disobedient colonies to heel some 240 years too late. The damned things could be put down and banished, but they came back each and every year.

We'd have to see next year if the bald general and his cohort would return from the grave once again.

It was actually a pretty good haul, magic wise. A good 700 Mals. Maybe a 10th or a 20th (if I wanted to play it safe) of what I'd need to be able to comfortable poke a hole between two realities without too many unpleasant side effects.

Like grotesque, tentacle-y abominations popping in to visit from the Far Realms. A place of infinite horrors that even the slightest glimpse of it would drive men mad. Hideous, malformed creatures whose forms made no sense to the rational mind, filled with strange moralities, plots, and theologies that made no sense to a rational mind.

So of course there was one of the fucking things at the Republican National Convention. I was sort of equal parts pissed off and ecstatic. Pissed off because after maybe a minute or two of talking to basically anybody I felt like I was about to have a brain aneurysm and have blood start leaking from my eyes, nose, and ears at any moment.

UWA Outbreak #8, Kalinda RP 1/1: A Tail of a Tag Team

I don't get visitors to my apartment often. My social contacts are primarily comprised of two groups: the pro wrestling group and the supernatural group.

The former being Desolation, Hellkat, SPIDER, Bobs of all sorts, and other assorted loons, while the later being the occasional visit from Leeland Gaunt, Silence, and Legion.

Claudia was more of a housemate than a visitor, and Mr. Hush was practically part of the furniture.

UWA Olympus, Kalinda RP 1/1: Darko's Self-Loathing On a Forklift Match

The Raeth Report
By Ron Raeth

Leading into Olympus the UWA's two day fan festival was quite a success, though there were some interesting highlights, or lowlights if you will.

The last signing of the first day featuring Kalinda Kriegsdottir, Angelica Jones, and P. Clarence Whitman was marred by the notably sensitive British gentleman making his way to the tables first, and shortly thereafter being introduced to Kalinda.

Apparently having repressed the memories of the horrible horrible Kalinda/Hush/Whitman vs. Leviticus/Fitzgerald/Stumpy Rodriguez feud in IWC, a feat that I'm sure many IWC fans would like to be able to replicate (I know I would), Mr. Whitman took one look at the towering form of the Azure Nightmare and promptly passed out.

Every time he would reawaken he would look around with his usual look of befuddlement at the world around him, catch sight of the Big Blue Beastie, and then return to the great state of unconsciousness.

About halfway through the signing Kalinda got up to her usual mischievous tricks and in between signing autographs spent several minutes of the signing using her marker to inscribe devil horns on Whitman's temples, Frankenstein-esque stitching on his neck and wrists, and for the magnum opus added what appeared to be KISS inspired facial designs.

Mr. Whitman can only hope that the marker manages to wash off before his debut match with Lilith Evans later tonight.