So I'm here in Bozeman, for the ice fest. But, not actually climbing the ice at the moment because I'm being Joe's bitch. Examples of tasks I had to complete today:
-pick up dog poop in a field where there's going to be a dry tooling comp called Ice Breaker (the wall is more insane in real life, will take pics tomorrow) (to be honest if I found poop I covered it with leaves, but I DID pick up trash)
-get 12 pallets from the Chronicle so Joe could build a stage (luckily Conrad Anker's son wanted to do that so I didn't have to - BTW, I met Conrad today - I was talking to Malcolm Daly and Conrad walked up to talk to him too and Mal said "do you know Franki?" and Conrad said "no" and Mal said "Well, you SHOULD know Franki" - then he turned to me and said "so you're not a spy any more?" because I told him about my new job - Mal likes to tell people I'm a spy or an assassin for some reason - no idea what Conrad thought about that)
-call a bunch of annoying people who signed up as volunteers and then decided not to help after all - if you fucking sign up as a volunteer do your job assholes so I don't have to run around with my hair on fire
-pick up bits of wood left over from making the climbing wall for the bonfire on Saturday (I picked up two pieces and then was like fuck this)
-cut 60 willows for roasting marshmallows on Saturday (I was like "Joe, I don't even know what a willow is" and he turned to Sara, another volunteer, and said "she's a really smart geek but doesn't know the simplest things and that's why I love her" - um, thanks? I guess?) (Sara cut the willows while I was taping up posters)
I'm supposed to head back to the Emerson for a show tonight. Tired though.
Ran into my pal Will Mayo. It was great to see him. He's competing on Saturday. I hope he wins!
Speaking of exes I found out another ex has been living in Golden for the past two years and is building a gym there. Fucker. Colorado is MY state. I was here first. He should take his dumb ass somewhere else that isn't near me. Like, go to fucking Siberia.
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