Courtesy of Joe...
"It's not quite the fluffy beaver... "
http://www.tagtele.com/v/11924
Saturday, March 14, 2009
matching hearts
This is a cheesy but true story. Every time I think of it I smile.
Jonas and I were in Florence, Italy, and we had gone to this club. It was really hot and crowded inside, and the music was loud, so we took our drinks outside to enjoy the evening. There were tables set up outside the bar and we could watch people walking on the street, one of my favorite things to do in a foreign city. When we walked outside we saw a little girl sitting against the wall on the sidewalk outside of the club. She must have been around 7. I believe she was German but I'm not sure.
I was worried about her because it was about 1130 at night, and while Florence is safe, I wouldn't leave my 7 year old outside by herself. Using various pantomimes, and finally drawing a picture on a piece of note paper from a note book that I was carrying around, we finally figured out her parents were inside the club. Jonas went in to look for them. I think he asked the bartender to find them and the parents finally came out. I told them I didn't think it was safe for them to leave their kid outside (they spoke English). They waved a hand at me "oh, it's okay".
I didn't think it was okay. At all. They brought her a sprite and she came and sat down at our table. She had a stylish little white purse with pink flowers on it. I told her I liked her bag and she grinned at me even though I don't think she understood me. I started telling her a story and drawing pictures in my notebook from events of the story. It was one of my favorites as a kid, about this kitten that has to go to a baby sitter's house. The kitten puts all of his toys in a wheel barrow to take to the baby sitter. I don't know if she was getting the plot or not, but she started drawing kittens with wheel barrows too.
Then she pulled this foil packet out of her purse and opened it. Inside there were grapes. She offered us some in this very cute hostess kind of way. I kept talking to her in English and she kept responding to me in German (I think it was German). I was talking about the moon and drew a picture of that. Then she filled in the picture with stars. I added an alien and she laughed.
After we ate all the grapes I took the foil and turned my back to her, making a big deal of doing something sneaky. She wanted to see what I was doing but she was very polite. I folded the foil into a little heart and hid it in my hand. Then I put my hand out to her and she opened it and pulled out the heart. Her face suddenly lit up and she was all smiles, babbling away in German (I think). Jonas and I were looking at each other kind of puzzled, and then she pulled out a necklace that she was wearing and it was a heart the same size as the one I had made her. This coincidence made her very happy and I was happy too.
Shortly afterwards we decided to leave because we were tired so we took her in the bar and left her with her parents in there. I hope they took good care of her.
Jonas and I were in Florence, Italy, and we had gone to this club. It was really hot and crowded inside, and the music was loud, so we took our drinks outside to enjoy the evening. There were tables set up outside the bar and we could watch people walking on the street, one of my favorite things to do in a foreign city. When we walked outside we saw a little girl sitting against the wall on the sidewalk outside of the club. She must have been around 7. I believe she was German but I'm not sure.
I was worried about her because it was about 1130 at night, and while Florence is safe, I wouldn't leave my 7 year old outside by herself. Using various pantomimes, and finally drawing a picture on a piece of note paper from a note book that I was carrying around, we finally figured out her parents were inside the club. Jonas went in to look for them. I think he asked the bartender to find them and the parents finally came out. I told them I didn't think it was safe for them to leave their kid outside (they spoke English). They waved a hand at me "oh, it's okay".
I didn't think it was okay. At all. They brought her a sprite and she came and sat down at our table. She had a stylish little white purse with pink flowers on it. I told her I liked her bag and she grinned at me even though I don't think she understood me. I started telling her a story and drawing pictures in my notebook from events of the story. It was one of my favorites as a kid, about this kitten that has to go to a baby sitter's house. The kitten puts all of his toys in a wheel barrow to take to the baby sitter. I don't know if she was getting the plot or not, but she started drawing kittens with wheel barrows too.
Then she pulled this foil packet out of her purse and opened it. Inside there were grapes. She offered us some in this very cute hostess kind of way. I kept talking to her in English and she kept responding to me in German (I think it was German). I was talking about the moon and drew a picture of that. Then she filled in the picture with stars. I added an alien and she laughed.
After we ate all the grapes I took the foil and turned my back to her, making a big deal of doing something sneaky. She wanted to see what I was doing but she was very polite. I folded the foil into a little heart and hid it in my hand. Then I put my hand out to her and she opened it and pulled out the heart. Her face suddenly lit up and she was all smiles, babbling away in German (I think). Jonas and I were looking at each other kind of puzzled, and then she pulled out a necklace that she was wearing and it was a heart the same size as the one I had made her. This coincidence made her very happy and I was happy too.
Shortly afterwards we decided to leave because we were tired so we took her in the bar and left her with her parents in there. I hope they took good care of her.
iTsucks
Well, I've just spent the entire day trying to unfuck my music library. Thank you iTunes. You fucking suck.
I should mention that I got my first MP3 player back in 1999. I used MusicMatch. It was a GREAT program. Volume leveling. Discovered new music on its own. NEVER created duplicates. NEVER deleted songs (iTunes will delete music that it thinks you downloaded illegally - how fucking controlling is that?).
But then I got an iPod. I would throw it into my alley and run it over with my car if I didn't have it hooked up to my stereo so I don't have to carry around a billion CDs. But STILL...
First of all, I tried to add new music that Joe gave me to my library. It wanted me to add each individual folder. Like I have time. And, since it had to convert to the fucking stupid fucknut iTunes format, it was taking FOREVER.
So I decided to blow my music library away and start over. Should be easy. Point fucking iTunes to my music folder and come back in six hours. But no. It wasn't easy. Fucking iTunes randomly decided to not import certain albums. For example, it imported After Hours from my Nina Simone folder, but not Here Comes The Sun. I only discovered that when I started making playlists. So now I don't even know what music is missing until I go to listen to it.
Also, the fucking fuck of a program some how did not save my ratings for songs. How FUCKING stupid is that? That information is stored WITH THE SONG. It remembered all the other meta data. So now I have to go through my music library AGAIN and rate my songs.
Volume control. Well, I won't even get into that. But maybe some asspipe at Apple might want to one day get off his ass and work out. Then maybe he'll realize how fucking ANNOYING it is to constantly turn my player up or down depending on the song.
Then, as if all this stuff wasn't bad enough, I realized iTunes duplicated about half the songs it imported. Why, I don't fucking know. And then I realized that some music I burned in WMA format (my other player plays that, and MP3, pretty much any format except for iTunes) didn't import. So I manually imported it. I was prompted about converting the format to iTunes. Fine. And what do you think happened? It imported THREE copies of EVERY SONG.
And finally, iTunes smartlist. Well, guess that depends on your idea of smart. It created some jacked up, mashed up playlist of songs. You can't delete them. You can TRY to reset the parameters for the smart list, but it doesn't take them. Now I have this stupid playlist that I can't even SEE when I look at the playlists on my iPod, but it's the first playlist that plays when I switch over to my iPod when it's hooked up to my car stereo.
Oh, and when I synced my iPod it only took 6 lists of the 20 I created, even though there's room on my iPod for more songs.
My other MP3 player is a Creative Zen. It doesn't force me to make a library, I can import from the Explorer. It volume levels my songs. It...works.
I will never, ever, ever, ever buy an Apple product again.
I should mention that I got my first MP3 player back in 1999. I used MusicMatch. It was a GREAT program. Volume leveling. Discovered new music on its own. NEVER created duplicates. NEVER deleted songs (iTunes will delete music that it thinks you downloaded illegally - how fucking controlling is that?).
But then I got an iPod. I would throw it into my alley and run it over with my car if I didn't have it hooked up to my stereo so I don't have to carry around a billion CDs. But STILL...
First of all, I tried to add new music that Joe gave me to my library. It wanted me to add each individual folder. Like I have time. And, since it had to convert to the fucking stupid fucknut iTunes format, it was taking FOREVER.
So I decided to blow my music library away and start over. Should be easy. Point fucking iTunes to my music folder and come back in six hours. But no. It wasn't easy. Fucking iTunes randomly decided to not import certain albums. For example, it imported After Hours from my Nina Simone folder, but not Here Comes The Sun. I only discovered that when I started making playlists. So now I don't even know what music is missing until I go to listen to it.
Also, the fucking fuck of a program some how did not save my ratings for songs. How FUCKING stupid is that? That information is stored WITH THE SONG. It remembered all the other meta data. So now I have to go through my music library AGAIN and rate my songs.
Volume control. Well, I won't even get into that. But maybe some asspipe at Apple might want to one day get off his ass and work out. Then maybe he'll realize how fucking ANNOYING it is to constantly turn my player up or down depending on the song.
Then, as if all this stuff wasn't bad enough, I realized iTunes duplicated about half the songs it imported. Why, I don't fucking know. And then I realized that some music I burned in WMA format (my other player plays that, and MP3, pretty much any format except for iTunes) didn't import. So I manually imported it. I was prompted about converting the format to iTunes. Fine. And what do you think happened? It imported THREE copies of EVERY SONG.
And finally, iTunes smartlist. Well, guess that depends on your idea of smart. It created some jacked up, mashed up playlist of songs. You can't delete them. You can TRY to reset the parameters for the smart list, but it doesn't take them. Now I have this stupid playlist that I can't even SEE when I look at the playlists on my iPod, but it's the first playlist that plays when I switch over to my iPod when it's hooked up to my car stereo.
Oh, and when I synced my iPod it only took 6 lists of the 20 I created, even though there's room on my iPod for more songs.
My other MP3 player is a Creative Zen. It doesn't force me to make a library, I can import from the Explorer. It volume levels my songs. It...works.
I will never, ever, ever, ever buy an Apple product again.
Friday, March 13, 2009
the more sense it makes, the less sense it makes
I was watching the movie Nowhere in Africa, which is about a German Jewish family that moves to Kenya at the start of WWII. One thing, as a side note, that I didn't know until I saw the movie, is that the Jews in Africa were interred at one point during the war, by the British. They weren't kept in the same conditions as a concentration camp, though the movie clearly shows that the British didn't really like the Jews. Eventually the men were allowed, if selected by the British forces, to fight in Germany against the Germans. Anyway...
In the movie the wife Lisl, is about to depart to meet up with her husband, who's been in Kenya for 6 months getting things ready. It's obvious Lisl is not happy about going to Africa. She meets with her husband's father, who tells her "In any relationship, one person always loves more. And that person always suffers." It's obvious the person who loves more is Lisl's husband, who puts up with her affairs until he finally gets to the point where he leaves her.
I had been thinking about that quote for a while, when someone else, in an email, asked the question "why would anyone have sex with someone who was treating them badly?" The asker was a guy of course. I started to wonder, should you not have sex with someone who is treating you badly?
Of course, there's bad and then there's bad. Would I have sex with someone who was treating me like a punching bag? No. Would I have sex with a partner that had cheated on me? Maybe. And does cheating fall into the category of treating someone bad, or is it something else? And don't most relationship guides say that you should have sex even if you're mad at your partner because it can help relieve the tension and make you less mad?
Maybe the logic goes something like this...a person is ignoring you. Then that person suddenly shows interest in you. You don't know why that person was ignoring you but now you're happy that they seem to like you again. It's a common thing in relationships, summed up nicely in TTMR when Marge says (paraphrased) "When he is paying attention to you it's like the sun is shining on you. And when he loses interest it's very cold". So what do you do? Try to use intimacy in the hopes of keeping their attention, while giving yourself the impression that you are somehow connected to the person. Is this incorrect logic?
Or should you assume, if they don't give a shit about you before you have sex with them, they won't care afterwards either. In fact, they'll probably resent you even more. It may work for people that are avoiding a relationship due to emotional issues, but I imagine that's not a very large group. So, I guess I concur with the idea of not having sex with someone who is being an asshole.
But, then there's the whole relationship dynamic. What if you are the person who loves the other person more? Should you leave that person and find someone that loves you more than you love them so you can be the asshole? And not get laid? Unless the person you are with thinks it's okay to have sex with someone who is treating them badly? Or maybe find someone that loves you equally as much? You'll never get laid because that relationship does not exist.
People are either going to try to work a relationship to their advantage, or give everything to a relationship. I haven't met a single couple that doesn't have that dynamic. Which is not to say it doesn't shift over time, but isn't that what draws people together? You meet someone that you can take care of, and that person is attracted to you because that person wants to be taken care of. Or vice versa. I love people that say you should not need to be in a relationship before you get into a relationship. Isn't that against everything that makes us human? If someone doesn't want to be in a relationship, why WOULD they be in a relationship? And if someone wants to be in a relationship, why wouldn't you want to be in a relationship with them, because you know that they are willing to devote time and effort into making the relationship good. That's like saying you shouldn't want to have kids before you have them. It's stupid.
Take a mountaineering example. Say I'm going to climb denali. I want to climb it by myself because I'm such a self sufficient mountaineer I don't need anyone else's help. Then along comes some guy who wants to climb with me. Am I going to welcome him with open arms? No, I'm going to resent the shit out of him and hate him. Say another self sufficient mountaineer shows up. Do I care? No, because I'll have no interaction with him, and he won't interact with me, because we're doing our own thing. In either case, there's no relationship that could come of climbing Denali with either of those two people.
But say I'm a mountaineer who wants to climb denali, and I know what my weaknesses are. I would try to find a partner that could help me with those weaknesses, and that I could hopefully help in some way. The experience is good for both of us because we can relax and focus on our strengths because we know our partner has our back on the things we are not as good at. And maybe, over time, we learn to build up our weaknesses by having help from our partner.
Of course, during the duration of the climb, I might fight with my partner, especially if he is doing something that emphasizes my weaknesses. But am I going to desert my partner for treating me badly? Maybe, if I suck. But if I don't suck maybe I will use the situation as an opportunity to help my partner and myself.
So really, if you want to be in a relationship, the key is not to NOT want to be in a relationship. The key is to understand WHY you want to be in a relationship and what you need to get out of your relationship.
Of course, I could be wrong about all this. But no one else has provided me with a more logical explanation.
In the movie the wife Lisl, is about to depart to meet up with her husband, who's been in Kenya for 6 months getting things ready. It's obvious Lisl is not happy about going to Africa. She meets with her husband's father, who tells her "In any relationship, one person always loves more. And that person always suffers." It's obvious the person who loves more is Lisl's husband, who puts up with her affairs until he finally gets to the point where he leaves her.
I had been thinking about that quote for a while, when someone else, in an email, asked the question "why would anyone have sex with someone who was treating them badly?" The asker was a guy of course. I started to wonder, should you not have sex with someone who is treating you badly?
Of course, there's bad and then there's bad. Would I have sex with someone who was treating me like a punching bag? No. Would I have sex with a partner that had cheated on me? Maybe. And does cheating fall into the category of treating someone bad, or is it something else? And don't most relationship guides say that you should have sex even if you're mad at your partner because it can help relieve the tension and make you less mad?
Maybe the logic goes something like this...a person is ignoring you. Then that person suddenly shows interest in you. You don't know why that person was ignoring you but now you're happy that they seem to like you again. It's a common thing in relationships, summed up nicely in TTMR when Marge says (paraphrased) "When he is paying attention to you it's like the sun is shining on you. And when he loses interest it's very cold". So what do you do? Try to use intimacy in the hopes of keeping their attention, while giving yourself the impression that you are somehow connected to the person. Is this incorrect logic?
Or should you assume, if they don't give a shit about you before you have sex with them, they won't care afterwards either. In fact, they'll probably resent you even more. It may work for people that are avoiding a relationship due to emotional issues, but I imagine that's not a very large group. So, I guess I concur with the idea of not having sex with someone who is being an asshole.
But, then there's the whole relationship dynamic. What if you are the person who loves the other person more? Should you leave that person and find someone that loves you more than you love them so you can be the asshole? And not get laid? Unless the person you are with thinks it's okay to have sex with someone who is treating them badly? Or maybe find someone that loves you equally as much? You'll never get laid because that relationship does not exist.
People are either going to try to work a relationship to their advantage, or give everything to a relationship. I haven't met a single couple that doesn't have that dynamic. Which is not to say it doesn't shift over time, but isn't that what draws people together? You meet someone that you can take care of, and that person is attracted to you because that person wants to be taken care of. Or vice versa. I love people that say you should not need to be in a relationship before you get into a relationship. Isn't that against everything that makes us human? If someone doesn't want to be in a relationship, why WOULD they be in a relationship? And if someone wants to be in a relationship, why wouldn't you want to be in a relationship with them, because you know that they are willing to devote time and effort into making the relationship good. That's like saying you shouldn't want to have kids before you have them. It's stupid.
Take a mountaineering example. Say I'm going to climb denali. I want to climb it by myself because I'm such a self sufficient mountaineer I don't need anyone else's help. Then along comes some guy who wants to climb with me. Am I going to welcome him with open arms? No, I'm going to resent the shit out of him and hate him. Say another self sufficient mountaineer shows up. Do I care? No, because I'll have no interaction with him, and he won't interact with me, because we're doing our own thing. In either case, there's no relationship that could come of climbing Denali with either of those two people.
But say I'm a mountaineer who wants to climb denali, and I know what my weaknesses are. I would try to find a partner that could help me with those weaknesses, and that I could hopefully help in some way. The experience is good for both of us because we can relax and focus on our strengths because we know our partner has our back on the things we are not as good at. And maybe, over time, we learn to build up our weaknesses by having help from our partner.
Of course, during the duration of the climb, I might fight with my partner, especially if he is doing something that emphasizes my weaknesses. But am I going to desert my partner for treating me badly? Maybe, if I suck. But if I don't suck maybe I will use the situation as an opportunity to help my partner and myself.
So really, if you want to be in a relationship, the key is not to NOT want to be in a relationship. The key is to understand WHY you want to be in a relationship and what you need to get out of your relationship.
Of course, I could be wrong about all this. But no one else has provided me with a more logical explanation.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
cars
Last night I had a dream that I was walking by the bus station down the street from my house. It was really warm and the sun was unnaturally bright.
I heard someone yell my name and when I looked over there was my brother Bob, running across the street from the bus station. He was carrying a stick over his shoulder with all his belongings tied up in this red hankerchief that had large white polka dots on it.
I was like "what are you doing here?" and he said "I came out to visit you". He was really drunk. But I felt this huge sense of relief that he had come out to Colorado so I could take care of him.
I said "let's go to the grocery" because I didn't have any food in my house and I wanted to get something to feed him because he looked so skinny. When we got to the grocery, which was a whole foods store I think, he was having problems walking so I put him in this little cart that looked like a car and started pushing him around the store. When we got to a shelf that had food he wanted to eat he would knock the food into his little car.
Then this lady came up and started yelling at me because Bob was smoking a cigarette. So I took his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on the floor. He got really mad at me so I told him I would give him another one when we left the store.
I pushed him out of the store and as soon as we got out of the door I lit a cigarette and handed it to him. He looked really happy. A guy walked up to us and told us a joke and we both started laughing really hard. I don't remember what the joke was.
Then I woke up.
I heard someone yell my name and when I looked over there was my brother Bob, running across the street from the bus station. He was carrying a stick over his shoulder with all his belongings tied up in this red hankerchief that had large white polka dots on it.
I was like "what are you doing here?" and he said "I came out to visit you". He was really drunk. But I felt this huge sense of relief that he had come out to Colorado so I could take care of him.
I said "let's go to the grocery" because I didn't have any food in my house and I wanted to get something to feed him because he looked so skinny. When we got to the grocery, which was a whole foods store I think, he was having problems walking so I put him in this little cart that looked like a car and started pushing him around the store. When we got to a shelf that had food he wanted to eat he would knock the food into his little car.
Then this lady came up and started yelling at me because Bob was smoking a cigarette. So I took his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on the floor. He got really mad at me so I told him I would give him another one when we left the store.
I pushed him out of the store and as soon as we got out of the door I lit a cigarette and handed it to him. He looked really happy. A guy walked up to us and told us a joke and we both started laughing really hard. I don't remember what the joke was.
Then I woke up.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Nick gets dumped for a corner fart
And one of my favorite stories of my ex...
We had just attended an engineering dinner where we were doubling with my boss, Nick, and his new girlfriend, I think her name was Sam. Nick was driving us around in his mustang. Given the length of my legs, and the narrowness of the back seat of one of those things, I knew disaster was going to strike eventually. And my ex had a tendency to behave badly around my co-workers. The night was a little tense for me.
Anyway, the dinner ended with me getting in trouble for breaking a piece off of a peanut brittle sculpture that apparently was not meant to be eaten. But after I took a huge chunk off of it everyone else did too. The restaurant people were pissed.
Then we decided to go to this bar, Buena Vista, where the first Irish Coffee ever was served. My ex had one, despite the fact that he's lactose intolerant. As we left the bar and were walking back to Nick's car, debating whether or not we were going to go to a club, we were stopped by traffic at a street corner. As we stood there, my ex let out this HUGE fart. I was like oh my god, around people I work with! Then Sam smacked Nick really hard and said "That was SO disgusting!" Nick was like "it wasn't ME!" and she was like "What ever. Why do you always have to do things like that?"
I started laughing and was going to tell her it was my ex, but then she was being such a bitch I didn't. My ex was acting as if nothing had happened, which was making me laugh harder. They argued the rest of the way back to the car.
Then, when we got to the car, and had by that time decided to not go to a club because Sam was being a bitch, I had to climb into the back seat of the stupid mustang. I was wearing stilettos, a short skirt, and no underwear. I had also just had knee surgery and so was having problems balancing. As I went to get into the car my foot got tangled in the seat belt and I ended up falling head first onto the back seat, mooning Sam on my way down. She didn't say anything, but I could tell she wanted to strangle me as I laughed the whole ride home.
The next Monday at work I saw Nick in the gym (we both worked out first thing in the morning). He was not in a good mood. I asked why and he said that he had broken up with Sam. I don't know how much was triggered by the fart and the mooning. I felt bad.
Nick went on to retire and marry some LA lady who is a producer or something (read: super rich). Sam is probably still making guys miserable. And my ex is probably still eating dairy around unsuspecting people.
We had just attended an engineering dinner where we were doubling with my boss, Nick, and his new girlfriend, I think her name was Sam. Nick was driving us around in his mustang. Given the length of my legs, and the narrowness of the back seat of one of those things, I knew disaster was going to strike eventually. And my ex had a tendency to behave badly around my co-workers. The night was a little tense for me.
Anyway, the dinner ended with me getting in trouble for breaking a piece off of a peanut brittle sculpture that apparently was not meant to be eaten. But after I took a huge chunk off of it everyone else did too. The restaurant people were pissed.
Then we decided to go to this bar, Buena Vista, where the first Irish Coffee ever was served. My ex had one, despite the fact that he's lactose intolerant. As we left the bar and were walking back to Nick's car, debating whether or not we were going to go to a club, we were stopped by traffic at a street corner. As we stood there, my ex let out this HUGE fart. I was like oh my god, around people I work with! Then Sam smacked Nick really hard and said "That was SO disgusting!" Nick was like "it wasn't ME!" and she was like "What ever. Why do you always have to do things like that?"
I started laughing and was going to tell her it was my ex, but then she was being such a bitch I didn't. My ex was acting as if nothing had happened, which was making me laugh harder. They argued the rest of the way back to the car.
Then, when we got to the car, and had by that time decided to not go to a club because Sam was being a bitch, I had to climb into the back seat of the stupid mustang. I was wearing stilettos, a short skirt, and no underwear. I had also just had knee surgery and so was having problems balancing. As I went to get into the car my foot got tangled in the seat belt and I ended up falling head first onto the back seat, mooning Sam on my way down. She didn't say anything, but I could tell she wanted to strangle me as I laughed the whole ride home.
The next Monday at work I saw Nick in the gym (we both worked out first thing in the morning). He was not in a good mood. I asked why and he said that he had broken up with Sam. I don't know how much was triggered by the fart and the mooning. I felt bad.
Nick went on to retire and marry some LA lady who is a producer or something (read: super rich). Sam is probably still making guys miserable. And my ex is probably still eating dairy around unsuspecting people.
and I would do it again
One of my favorite farting stories...
I was in Hania, Crete, in a cute little hotel overlooking the harbor. I was there with a guy that I later married (and divorced). It was our first trip together, and the first time we had stayed in the same bed.
It was early morning and the sun was coming through the window because the night before we had forgotten to close the shutters. I was looking out at the boats, feeling groggy, laying on my back trying to decide whether or not I was ready to be awake.
I had woken up because the guy, let's call him X, had woken up. He was (and probably still is) a morning person. He rolled over on his side and started talking to me about a conversation we were having while falling asleep the previous night, but I wasn't really listening, I was still half asleep. The conversation was about how, to have a good relationship, we should be able to tell each other anything, and do anything, without the other person getting pissed or upset.
I vaguely remember him saying something sweet to me, and me smiling, feeling totally relaxed, and then him suddenly rolling right on top of me. I was caught by surprise and accidentally farted really, really loudly. There was a moment of stunned silence from the body laying on top of me, and then X said "I can't BELIEVE you just did that!" I was trying to think of something to say that might bring back the romantic mood, but I was also trying to not laugh. Then he, just as suddenly, rolled off me and that caused me to fart again.
"GOD dammit! You've completely spoiled everything!" he yelled at me, throwing the covers onto my face and storming into the bathroom.
I yelled back at him "But I thought you said last night that we could tell each other anything!" and then proceeded to have an epic giggling fit that continued on the bus ride to Heraklion and while we were touring the temple of Knossos.
He eventually forgave me, married me, and, oddly enough, I never farted for the rest of our time together. He used to say it was because I talked so much the air never had a chance to get down to my intestines. Medically speaking, I don't know if there could be any truth to that.
I was in Hania, Crete, in a cute little hotel overlooking the harbor. I was there with a guy that I later married (and divorced). It was our first trip together, and the first time we had stayed in the same bed.
It was early morning and the sun was coming through the window because the night before we had forgotten to close the shutters. I was looking out at the boats, feeling groggy, laying on my back trying to decide whether or not I was ready to be awake.
I had woken up because the guy, let's call him X, had woken up. He was (and probably still is) a morning person. He rolled over on his side and started talking to me about a conversation we were having while falling asleep the previous night, but I wasn't really listening, I was still half asleep. The conversation was about how, to have a good relationship, we should be able to tell each other anything, and do anything, without the other person getting pissed or upset.
I vaguely remember him saying something sweet to me, and me smiling, feeling totally relaxed, and then him suddenly rolling right on top of me. I was caught by surprise and accidentally farted really, really loudly. There was a moment of stunned silence from the body laying on top of me, and then X said "I can't BELIEVE you just did that!" I was trying to think of something to say that might bring back the romantic mood, but I was also trying to not laugh. Then he, just as suddenly, rolled off me and that caused me to fart again.
"GOD dammit! You've completely spoiled everything!" he yelled at me, throwing the covers onto my face and storming into the bathroom.
I yelled back at him "But I thought you said last night that we could tell each other anything!" and then proceeded to have an epic giggling fit that continued on the bus ride to Heraklion and while we were touring the temple of Knossos.
He eventually forgave me, married me, and, oddly enough, I never farted for the rest of our time together. He used to say it was because I talked so much the air never had a chance to get down to my intestines. Medically speaking, I don't know if there could be any truth to that.
the talented Mr. D
I will preface this dream by mentioning that I watched The Talented Mr. Ripley last night.
Last night I dreamed that my co-author's father (though I have no idea what he looks like in real life, in the dream he looked like the father in TTMR) hired me to go to a college in Calgary because, he said, "my son is causing a huge disruption on the campus, and if you can't stop him he'll be thrown out of school".
So I was given this magic car that could get really big or really small depending on what size I wished it would be. It was this cool shade of blue, kind of like a dark blue but with grey in it.
I got to the campus and found these huge scaffolds all over the quad that had Star Wars action figures on them. People could barely walk around because the scaffolds were every where. I saw my co-author building yet another scaffold. I yelled to him and he came over to my car. I was like "what are you doing?" and he said "I'm building shelves to house my star wars collection". I said "you can't just build them where ever you want because it's causing a disruption on campus". He started to get upset so I said "look, why don't I park my car and you can show me your collection".
So he told me to park in this steeply sloping parking lot, and I started to drive down it but realized there were no spots, and worse, that there was a huge cliff at the end of the parking lot that I almost accidentally drove off. I was really mad at him so I backed my car up and said "no, I need a parking lot that still has spaces and that isn't on a cliff". So then he sent me to this other parking lot that had one tiny space left. I shrank my magic car down to its smallest size but right as I was doing that my co-author made all the cars in the parking lot larger so I was boxed in between all these cars and couldn't move forward or backwards.
Then my co-author's dad appeared on this TV screen inside my car (looked like the TV in Jeffy's FJ) and said "you must become a bicycle!" and I was like "I don't understand" and he said "think about it! think about becoming a bicycle!" So I thought about becoming a bicycle and my car turned into a bicycle. I was like ha ha, now I can get out of the parking lot! I rode the bike up to my co-author and was like "okay, now I need a place to park my bike". I could tell he was irritated that I was able to turn my magic car into a bike. He showed me this white u-shaped stand (like the ones you see in any city) and I chained my bike to it. But as soon as I started to walk away the bike stand turned into a white dog and the dog ran away with my bike. I was like fuck, now how am I going to get home.
Then my co-author started to show me all the scaffolds he created. There was one huge one that I thought was going to fall on me. It had hundreds of these figures that looked like Jesus statues. I was like "what is this?" and he said "This is the main star of star wars. He's the angel of star wars." I was like "No that isn't. It's Jesus. And there was no "angel of star wars"." Then my co-author got mad at me again and said "Yes there was. You just didn't see that version of the movie."
I was starting to think that my co-author was really crazy and that I should call his dad except that a dog had run away with my magic car and I could only communicate with people using the TV screen. Mean while my co-author had walked away and I couldn't see him anymore in the maze of scaffolds. I was afraid the Jesus scaffold was going to fall on me.
Then I woke up.
Last night I dreamed that my co-author's father (though I have no idea what he looks like in real life, in the dream he looked like the father in TTMR) hired me to go to a college in Calgary because, he said, "my son is causing a huge disruption on the campus, and if you can't stop him he'll be thrown out of school".
So I was given this magic car that could get really big or really small depending on what size I wished it would be. It was this cool shade of blue, kind of like a dark blue but with grey in it.
I got to the campus and found these huge scaffolds all over the quad that had Star Wars action figures on them. People could barely walk around because the scaffolds were every where. I saw my co-author building yet another scaffold. I yelled to him and he came over to my car. I was like "what are you doing?" and he said "I'm building shelves to house my star wars collection". I said "you can't just build them where ever you want because it's causing a disruption on campus". He started to get upset so I said "look, why don't I park my car and you can show me your collection".
So he told me to park in this steeply sloping parking lot, and I started to drive down it but realized there were no spots, and worse, that there was a huge cliff at the end of the parking lot that I almost accidentally drove off. I was really mad at him so I backed my car up and said "no, I need a parking lot that still has spaces and that isn't on a cliff". So then he sent me to this other parking lot that had one tiny space left. I shrank my magic car down to its smallest size but right as I was doing that my co-author made all the cars in the parking lot larger so I was boxed in between all these cars and couldn't move forward or backwards.
Then my co-author's dad appeared on this TV screen inside my car (looked like the TV in Jeffy's FJ) and said "you must become a bicycle!" and I was like "I don't understand" and he said "think about it! think about becoming a bicycle!" So I thought about becoming a bicycle and my car turned into a bicycle. I was like ha ha, now I can get out of the parking lot! I rode the bike up to my co-author and was like "okay, now I need a place to park my bike". I could tell he was irritated that I was able to turn my magic car into a bike. He showed me this white u-shaped stand (like the ones you see in any city) and I chained my bike to it. But as soon as I started to walk away the bike stand turned into a white dog and the dog ran away with my bike. I was like fuck, now how am I going to get home.
Then my co-author started to show me all the scaffolds he created. There was one huge one that I thought was going to fall on me. It had hundreds of these figures that looked like Jesus statues. I was like "what is this?" and he said "This is the main star of star wars. He's the angel of star wars." I was like "No that isn't. It's Jesus. And there was no "angel of star wars"." Then my co-author got mad at me again and said "Yes there was. You just didn't see that version of the movie."
I was starting to think that my co-author was really crazy and that I should call his dad except that a dog had run away with my magic car and I could only communicate with people using the TV screen. Mean while my co-author had walked away and I couldn't see him anymore in the maze of scaffolds. I was afraid the Jesus scaffold was going to fall on me.
Then I woke up.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
farts - are they really that funny?
My uncle sent me this. How can you NOT laugh at a story that is head lined "city council meeting interrupted by farts":
http://www.fox8.com/wjw-news-medina-fart,0,2761320.htmlstory
Or maybe something is wrong with me.
http://www.fox8.com/wjw-news-medina-fart,0,2761320.htmlstory
Or maybe something is wrong with me.
naked me
My two favorite naked stories, from college...
The summer before my freshman year my right achilles tendon tore completely off the bone. They put a cast on my leg that went from my hip to my toes. It sucked ass. I had to put this huge yellow rubber thing over it to protect it from water when I showered.
So some bitch girls on my hall thought it was funny to take my towel while I was showering because, what was I going to do, chase them on my crutches? It became an almost weekly event. Normally I would rip down a shower curtain, wrap that around myself, and go to my room, but this one day I decided fuck them, I'm just walking back to my room naked.
I should mention that I lived in a co-ed dorm (Ambler Johnston, location of the first shootings at tech in 2007). I knew I might run into some guys but I was so pissed I didn't care. I went crutching down to my room like a crippled rabid dog, screaming about my fucking towel and beating the shit out of who ever took it.
It was this day that I found out the girl across the hall was mormon. I found this out because her two mormon buddies, who were on that bicycle tour thing they do, had stopped by to see her right around the time I came down the hall. Picture it. I'm sopping wet, on crutches, with a huge cast that has a yellow rubber thing on it, yelling profanities directed generally towards all the girls on my hall. These two guys were looking at me like I was the anti-christ and a porn star rolled into one. The mormon girl screamed and then fainted.
After that, no one ever took my towel.
The other story is from my senior year in college. I was hanging out with my biker friends at a party at an apartment complex. It was a really warm night in the middle of April and we were getting drunk. My friend Omar gets this idea: he and I should take off our clothes and go swimming in the apartment complex pool.
This is the same apartment complex that my friend Brad almost burned down when he got stoned and dropped a flaming newspaper off a balcony onto a hay bale they were using for the grass. Also where another friend was kicked out because he was throwing water balloons at sorority girls walking to a formal. And where my friend Bryan ran me over with my own motorcycle while we were trying to ride it up the stairs from the first to the second floor.
So, naked in the pool...that seemed very tame and acceptable.
We walked down to the pool and took off all of our clothes, except that, and I should have been suspicious about this, Omar did not remove his shoes. I put my toe in the water. The surface was covered with leaves, a bit ick, but the water felt pretty warm. Omar was like "jump in and I'll follow you" so I jumped in.
The water was FUCKING cold. And, worse, I realized as soon as I jumped in that the pool had a tarp over the top of it that had filled with water. I wasn't actually in the pool. I was in a tarp, filled with rotting leaves and other shit, on top of the pool.
Around this time Omar heard sirens and like a typical Egyptian ran off and left the Jew to suffer whatever consequences were to follow. I tried to get out of the pool but I couldn't because the sides of the tarp were so slippery with leaf muck that I couldn't grab on to anything. Also, being really drunk probably wasn't helping.
A cop walked over to the pool with his flashlight. He said "you look like a turtle that flipped over on its back". I was like ha ha, get me the fuck out of here. He pulled me out with his riot baton (back in those days, for the record, they didn't need stuff like that at tech). Right after he got me out of the pool he recognized me because I was teaching self defense classes at dorms and sororities and would often recruit the local police to show up at my classes so the girls would have a real guy to beat up. This kind of sucks, I thought to myself. I was also worried my karate instructor would find out what I did and break my head in half. He is quite omniscient and has emailed or called me at various times in my life when I was about to do something really bad. I don't know how he knows, but he does.
The cop (his name was JC) let me pick up my clothes. He marched me to the squad car. I looked up at the balcony of the apartment where the party was going on and noticed way too many people standing on it watching what was happening. As soon as the cop put me in the back seat of the car, they all went inside.
The cop told me he was going to let me go. He drove the 100 yards or what ever it was, to the building where the party was. He opened the back door for me and I got out of the car and walked up the stairs to the party completely naked. Everyone in the party was clapping. As soon as I walked in the door my friend Bryan threw a bottle of ketchup on me. Then my friend Tawfiq threw barbecue sauce at me. A huge food and beer fight erupted. My last memory of that night is hiding in the shower with Tawfiq waiting for people to stop throwing stuff, and that I was wearing Bryan's robe, and that I hadn't wiped the ketchup and barbecue sauce off before I put his robe on.
And waking up the next morning on the floor of Bryan's room realizing I had stacked a bunch of motorcycle helmets around me, thinking that it would protect me from anyone trying to fuck with me. I ended up getting an ear infection from the water in the pool, and the weather went back to being cold which was depressing.
Bryan is married now, and an accountant. Has kids. No idea what happened to Omar. Tawfiq was working for World Bank in Italy, but I'm not sure where he is now.
The summer before my freshman year my right achilles tendon tore completely off the bone. They put a cast on my leg that went from my hip to my toes. It sucked ass. I had to put this huge yellow rubber thing over it to protect it from water when I showered.
So some bitch girls on my hall thought it was funny to take my towel while I was showering because, what was I going to do, chase them on my crutches? It became an almost weekly event. Normally I would rip down a shower curtain, wrap that around myself, and go to my room, but this one day I decided fuck them, I'm just walking back to my room naked.
I should mention that I lived in a co-ed dorm (Ambler Johnston, location of the first shootings at tech in 2007). I knew I might run into some guys but I was so pissed I didn't care. I went crutching down to my room like a crippled rabid dog, screaming about my fucking towel and beating the shit out of who ever took it.
It was this day that I found out the girl across the hall was mormon. I found this out because her two mormon buddies, who were on that bicycle tour thing they do, had stopped by to see her right around the time I came down the hall. Picture it. I'm sopping wet, on crutches, with a huge cast that has a yellow rubber thing on it, yelling profanities directed generally towards all the girls on my hall. These two guys were looking at me like I was the anti-christ and a porn star rolled into one. The mormon girl screamed and then fainted.
After that, no one ever took my towel.
The other story is from my senior year in college. I was hanging out with my biker friends at a party at an apartment complex. It was a really warm night in the middle of April and we were getting drunk. My friend Omar gets this idea: he and I should take off our clothes and go swimming in the apartment complex pool.
This is the same apartment complex that my friend Brad almost burned down when he got stoned and dropped a flaming newspaper off a balcony onto a hay bale they were using for the grass. Also where another friend was kicked out because he was throwing water balloons at sorority girls walking to a formal. And where my friend Bryan ran me over with my own motorcycle while we were trying to ride it up the stairs from the first to the second floor.
So, naked in the pool...that seemed very tame and acceptable.
We walked down to the pool and took off all of our clothes, except that, and I should have been suspicious about this, Omar did not remove his shoes. I put my toe in the water. The surface was covered with leaves, a bit ick, but the water felt pretty warm. Omar was like "jump in and I'll follow you" so I jumped in.
The water was FUCKING cold. And, worse, I realized as soon as I jumped in that the pool had a tarp over the top of it that had filled with water. I wasn't actually in the pool. I was in a tarp, filled with rotting leaves and other shit, on top of the pool.
Around this time Omar heard sirens and like a typical Egyptian ran off and left the Jew to suffer whatever consequences were to follow. I tried to get out of the pool but I couldn't because the sides of the tarp were so slippery with leaf muck that I couldn't grab on to anything. Also, being really drunk probably wasn't helping.
A cop walked over to the pool with his flashlight. He said "you look like a turtle that flipped over on its back". I was like ha ha, get me the fuck out of here. He pulled me out with his riot baton (back in those days, for the record, they didn't need stuff like that at tech). Right after he got me out of the pool he recognized me because I was teaching self defense classes at dorms and sororities and would often recruit the local police to show up at my classes so the girls would have a real guy to beat up. This kind of sucks, I thought to myself. I was also worried my karate instructor would find out what I did and break my head in half. He is quite omniscient and has emailed or called me at various times in my life when I was about to do something really bad. I don't know how he knows, but he does.
The cop (his name was JC) let me pick up my clothes. He marched me to the squad car. I looked up at the balcony of the apartment where the party was going on and noticed way too many people standing on it watching what was happening. As soon as the cop put me in the back seat of the car, they all went inside.
The cop told me he was going to let me go. He drove the 100 yards or what ever it was, to the building where the party was. He opened the back door for me and I got out of the car and walked up the stairs to the party completely naked. Everyone in the party was clapping. As soon as I walked in the door my friend Bryan threw a bottle of ketchup on me. Then my friend Tawfiq threw barbecue sauce at me. A huge food and beer fight erupted. My last memory of that night is hiding in the shower with Tawfiq waiting for people to stop throwing stuff, and that I was wearing Bryan's robe, and that I hadn't wiped the ketchup and barbecue sauce off before I put his robe on.
And waking up the next morning on the floor of Bryan's room realizing I had stacked a bunch of motorcycle helmets around me, thinking that it would protect me from anyone trying to fuck with me. I ended up getting an ear infection from the water in the pool, and the weather went back to being cold which was depressing.
Bryan is married now, and an accountant. Has kids. No idea what happened to Omar. Tawfiq was working for World Bank in Italy, but I'm not sure where he is now.
Joe gets a surprise courtesy of the Town Pump
Yesterday I got the following email from Joe and laughed so hard I choked on my yerba mate:
"Good thing we did have two eggs left over for pancakes.
I am making lunch and was about to use those two we bought at the Town Pump.
Turns out they are hard boiled. And you thought I was so skilled to not break them when I put them in my down coat pocket...
Guess I need to reconsider what I'm having for lunch."
Though, I'm curious. What could one possibly make for lunch that would require eggs? Cupcakes, maybe? I wish someone was making me cupcakes for lunch today.
"Good thing we did have two eggs left over for pancakes.
I am making lunch and was about to use those two we bought at the Town Pump.
Turns out they are hard boiled. And you thought I was so skilled to not break them when I put them in my down coat pocket...
Guess I need to reconsider what I'm having for lunch."
Though, I'm curious. What could one possibly make for lunch that would require eggs? Cupcakes, maybe? I wish someone was making me cupcakes for lunch today.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
pac men and pizza
Last night I had a dream that I hired a guide to climb Denali, and when the guide showed up it was Angelina Jolie, only she was a lot taller than in real life.
We started walking on this path that was surrounded on both sides with these beautiful rose bushes and I was following behind her when she suddenly said "we have to find a place to hide!" I was like "why?" and she said "the rollers are coming!" She pushed me into this huge bush and told me to lay on my side and not move.
A few seconds later these creatures that looked like pac man came rolling down the trail. They were eating all the rose bushes that lined the trail. I couldn't see any teeth on them but they were obviously sharp because they were ripping the bushes to shreds. I became afraid they were going to eat me. They had eyes like a great white and every time they bit a rose bush their eyes would roll back. Angelina whispered "why the fuck did you have to wear that pack?" because I was wearing a bright blue pack and she was afraid the rollers would see me. Although, she had a bright red pack. I thought it was an unfair thing to say.
After the rollers ate the bushes these roses would start growing all over them and then they couldn't roll any more so they would come to a stop and fall asleep. After they started falling asleep Angelina waved me towards a big rock. I stayed on one side of the rock and set up my tent and she was on the other side of the rock. I couldn't see her but I could hear her voice.
I was like "is it over?" and she said "no, now the sheeshes are coming". I didn't know what those were so I crawled into my tent and then looked out the flap to see what would happen next.
These worm-snake like creatures came racing down the hill and started climbing all over the pac men as they were sleeping. I was like "what are they doing?" and Angelina said "they're eating the parasites". I was like huh. Then more creatures started coming down the hill. There were these dark blue triangle creatures that kept flying into the trees and sticking there like darts. There were also green ovals that were like gnats flying in a swarm and making a bad noise like bees. I thought "now we're never going to get to climb Denali". And then I woke up.
It was 430 in the morning so I read an article and then went back to sleep. This time I dreamed I was staying in Gadd's house, but it was in France and had red tiles on the roof. I was out on the patio smoking a cigarette when I heard Gadd come home with a friend. I ran down to the basement when I heard them go down there.
The basement had the room I was sleeping in and a big bar, like a restaurant bar. There were sliding glass doors going outside so the basement had a lot of light in it. Gadd was showing his friend the latest climbing magazine, which featured his daughter. She was 2 in the pictures but was climbing this huge wall in Tanzania. She was wearing a blue suit like ski racers wear.
While Gadd was showing his friend the magazine I was trying to sneak behind the bar without him noticing. He kept talking to me and I was answering him without looking at him. I was trying to get to the bar refrigerator where I had hidden a pizza. I was worried that Gadd and his friend would find my pizza and eat it. I pulled it out of the refrigerator and put newspapers on top of it. Then I started to casually walk out of the basement. But then Gadd was like "hey, I'm in that paper!" and grabbed it off the top of the pizza. I was like shit. And he said "oh, is that a pepperoni pizza?" I started to run up the stairs with the pizza but Gadd and his friend tackled me by grabbing my legs.
Then I woke up.
We started walking on this path that was surrounded on both sides with these beautiful rose bushes and I was following behind her when she suddenly said "we have to find a place to hide!" I was like "why?" and she said "the rollers are coming!" She pushed me into this huge bush and told me to lay on my side and not move.
A few seconds later these creatures that looked like pac man came rolling down the trail. They were eating all the rose bushes that lined the trail. I couldn't see any teeth on them but they were obviously sharp because they were ripping the bushes to shreds. I became afraid they were going to eat me. They had eyes like a great white and every time they bit a rose bush their eyes would roll back. Angelina whispered "why the fuck did you have to wear that pack?" because I was wearing a bright blue pack and she was afraid the rollers would see me. Although, she had a bright red pack. I thought it was an unfair thing to say.
After the rollers ate the bushes these roses would start growing all over them and then they couldn't roll any more so they would come to a stop and fall asleep. After they started falling asleep Angelina waved me towards a big rock. I stayed on one side of the rock and set up my tent and she was on the other side of the rock. I couldn't see her but I could hear her voice.
I was like "is it over?" and she said "no, now the sheeshes are coming". I didn't know what those were so I crawled into my tent and then looked out the flap to see what would happen next.
These worm-snake like creatures came racing down the hill and started climbing all over the pac men as they were sleeping. I was like "what are they doing?" and Angelina said "they're eating the parasites". I was like huh. Then more creatures started coming down the hill. There were these dark blue triangle creatures that kept flying into the trees and sticking there like darts. There were also green ovals that were like gnats flying in a swarm and making a bad noise like bees. I thought "now we're never going to get to climb Denali". And then I woke up.
It was 430 in the morning so I read an article and then went back to sleep. This time I dreamed I was staying in Gadd's house, but it was in France and had red tiles on the roof. I was out on the patio smoking a cigarette when I heard Gadd come home with a friend. I ran down to the basement when I heard them go down there.
The basement had the room I was sleeping in and a big bar, like a restaurant bar. There were sliding glass doors going outside so the basement had a lot of light in it. Gadd was showing his friend the latest climbing magazine, which featured his daughter. She was 2 in the pictures but was climbing this huge wall in Tanzania. She was wearing a blue suit like ski racers wear.
While Gadd was showing his friend the magazine I was trying to sneak behind the bar without him noticing. He kept talking to me and I was answering him without looking at him. I was trying to get to the bar refrigerator where I had hidden a pizza. I was worried that Gadd and his friend would find my pizza and eat it. I pulled it out of the refrigerator and put newspapers on top of it. Then I started to casually walk out of the basement. But then Gadd was like "hey, I'm in that paper!" and grabbed it off the top of the pizza. I was like shit. And he said "oh, is that a pepperoni pizza?" I started to run up the stairs with the pizza but Gadd and his friend tackled me by grabbing my legs.
Then I woke up.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
gunny sack
Today I wasted 6 hours of my life trying to buy some new clothes. I have an upcoming conference that I'm presenting at, and have no idea what to wear. Also, I have a gig at the white house. And Jeffy would probably appreciate it if I didn't wear the same t-shirt every time we go out.
First I went to Nordstrom's. It was scary. How can so many people be shopping when the economy is bad? All the clothes I saw were weird. I tried on 8 t-shirts but didn't like any of them.
Then I went to Sak's. More weird clothes, but at least they were better organized. I tried on the same shirt in two sizes. I looked like a hippy so I didn't buy either.
I went to an electronics store and bought head phones and a movie. That didn't really count as clothes so I went to two other stores but didn't even find anything to try on.
I wish someone with really good taste would go shopping for me. I could sit in the dressing room eating cookies and reading the New Yorker until my shopper found some cute outfits for me. With any luck my shopper would be the same size as me so I wouldn't even have to try the clothes on. I wonder why all the movies I watch have great clothes that no store seems to sell. Even Blush down the street has had yuck clothes in the windows for the past 6 months.
If anyone wants to shop for me, send me an email. I'm serious. I'll even take you to dinner afterwards and buy you what ever bottle of wine you want. This offer excludes Jeffy who would order something that costs more than my mortgage.
First I went to Nordstrom's. It was scary. How can so many people be shopping when the economy is bad? All the clothes I saw were weird. I tried on 8 t-shirts but didn't like any of them.
Then I went to Sak's. More weird clothes, but at least they were better organized. I tried on the same shirt in two sizes. I looked like a hippy so I didn't buy either.
I went to an electronics store and bought head phones and a movie. That didn't really count as clothes so I went to two other stores but didn't even find anything to try on.
I wish someone with really good taste would go shopping for me. I could sit in the dressing room eating cookies and reading the New Yorker until my shopper found some cute outfits for me. With any luck my shopper would be the same size as me so I wouldn't even have to try the clothes on. I wonder why all the movies I watch have great clothes that no store seems to sell. Even Blush down the street has had yuck clothes in the windows for the past 6 months.
If anyone wants to shop for me, send me an email. I'm serious. I'll even take you to dinner afterwards and buy you what ever bottle of wine you want. This offer excludes Jeffy who would order something that costs more than my mortgage.
Friday, March 6, 2009
rock and soul rememberances
Last night Luis, Jeffy, and my climbing partner Dr. Jay went to see my cousin Andrew play at the Rock 'n Soul cafe. I got there early to help set up but all that was left to do was the sound check.
Some kid opened for Andrew but he really sucked. He said, after the second song "It's really hard for me to play if everyone is talking". Yeah kid, you have a great career in music. People probably wouldn't have been talking if he hadn't sucked.
I was laughing to myself about that kid because the last time I went to see Andrew there was a suck band that opened for him also. The lead singer was there with his mom, was not old enough to drink alcohol, and made out with his girlfriend up until the minute he went on stage. I was stuck sitting in front of him because I hadn't realized he was on first and there was no way to move away from the stage without some serious furniture rearrangement.
After suck band was done playing I went outside to smoke while waiting for Andrew to go on. The lead singer of suck band followed me outside and was trying to talk to me. I was standing at the railing, staring out into the parking lot, acting like I didn't speak english. So he came over and stood right next to me and said "I saw you staring at me". I was like what EVER dude! If I was staring it was because your band SUCKED. Then he grabbed the yellow bracelet on my wrist and asked me what it was. I said "it's a wish bracelet". Why do I talk to idiots when I know they are going to do something stupid?
He hooked his pinky under my wish bracelet while at the same time grabbing me and, I'm NOT making this up, saying "well, your wishes are about to come true, baby". He pushed his lips towards me at high velocity. I, in reaction, leaned way back and opened my mouth to say "what the fuck?" but before I could do that his upper lip made contact with the corner of my front tooth, which is a veneer, and it split open and started bleeding. He pulled away from me and grabbed his mouth while I in turn felt my tooth, which cost $1,000 to fix after I broke it in a bike accident, to make sure it wasn't damaged.
Then we both turned as the door to RNS opened. Dumb ass had failed to notice that the front of the cafe is a plate glass WINDOW. Anyone inside could see EVERYTHING going on outside. His girlfriend had been watching as he walked out and then saw him try to kiss me. Needless to say, it was pandemonium. She, being a typical female and therefore an idiot, started screaming at ME. I was like yeah, I really wanted to kiss a guy young enough to be my kid. I love guys with newly sprouted pubic hair. They left immediately afterwards, mother in tow. And I went in to see Andrew but had missed part of the first song.
Jeffy was not happy with the drink selections (and I quote "organic wine? that sucks!"). He was in a pretty good mood overall though because the cover to his book is almost done. He's in Montana next week to ski, I mean, um, go to a conference for work, and he's going to meet up with my publisher Joe for a beer. I don't know how safe that's going to be. I asked him if they were planning to sit around making fun of me all night and he said "Not everything revolves around you".
But, I bet they will make fun of me.
Dr. Jay played with Jeffy's iPhone. Jeffy kept lighting the fake zippo lighter and holding it up while Andrew was playing. Luis had brought out some serious representation from Outward Bound so there was a good audience. Afterwards we were talking about how I need to have a party at my house so everyone could get together. My other cousin Chris, Andrew's twin, is going to be working for Outward Bound this summer so Luis introduced him to a bunch of people. Also, he knows some people that he wants to introduce Andrew to that might be able to help with his music career. I thought that was really great of him to help them.
Today I was walking around down town trying to wake up, or at least waste time until it got dark enough to watch a movie, and I was thinking about how much fun I've been having the past few months skiing and climbing. This week I went out almost every night.
Some kid opened for Andrew but he really sucked. He said, after the second song "It's really hard for me to play if everyone is talking". Yeah kid, you have a great career in music. People probably wouldn't have been talking if he hadn't sucked.
I was laughing to myself about that kid because the last time I went to see Andrew there was a suck band that opened for him also. The lead singer was there with his mom, was not old enough to drink alcohol, and made out with his girlfriend up until the minute he went on stage. I was stuck sitting in front of him because I hadn't realized he was on first and there was no way to move away from the stage without some serious furniture rearrangement.
After suck band was done playing I went outside to smoke while waiting for Andrew to go on. The lead singer of suck band followed me outside and was trying to talk to me. I was standing at the railing, staring out into the parking lot, acting like I didn't speak english. So he came over and stood right next to me and said "I saw you staring at me". I was like what EVER dude! If I was staring it was because your band SUCKED. Then he grabbed the yellow bracelet on my wrist and asked me what it was. I said "it's a wish bracelet". Why do I talk to idiots when I know they are going to do something stupid?
He hooked his pinky under my wish bracelet while at the same time grabbing me and, I'm NOT making this up, saying "well, your wishes are about to come true, baby". He pushed his lips towards me at high velocity. I, in reaction, leaned way back and opened my mouth to say "what the fuck?" but before I could do that his upper lip made contact with the corner of my front tooth, which is a veneer, and it split open and started bleeding. He pulled away from me and grabbed his mouth while I in turn felt my tooth, which cost $1,000 to fix after I broke it in a bike accident, to make sure it wasn't damaged.
Then we both turned as the door to RNS opened. Dumb ass had failed to notice that the front of the cafe is a plate glass WINDOW. Anyone inside could see EVERYTHING going on outside. His girlfriend had been watching as he walked out and then saw him try to kiss me. Needless to say, it was pandemonium. She, being a typical female and therefore an idiot, started screaming at ME. I was like yeah, I really wanted to kiss a guy young enough to be my kid. I love guys with newly sprouted pubic hair. They left immediately afterwards, mother in tow. And I went in to see Andrew but had missed part of the first song.
Jeffy was not happy with the drink selections (and I quote "organic wine? that sucks!"). He was in a pretty good mood overall though because the cover to his book is almost done. He's in Montana next week to ski, I mean, um, go to a conference for work, and he's going to meet up with my publisher Joe for a beer. I don't know how safe that's going to be. I asked him if they were planning to sit around making fun of me all night and he said "Not everything revolves around you".
But, I bet they will make fun of me.
Dr. Jay played with Jeffy's iPhone. Jeffy kept lighting the fake zippo lighter and holding it up while Andrew was playing. Luis had brought out some serious representation from Outward Bound so there was a good audience. Afterwards we were talking about how I need to have a party at my house so everyone could get together. My other cousin Chris, Andrew's twin, is going to be working for Outward Bound this summer so Luis introduced him to a bunch of people. Also, he knows some people that he wants to introduce Andrew to that might be able to help with his music career. I thought that was really great of him to help them.
Today I was walking around down town trying to wake up, or at least waste time until it got dark enough to watch a movie, and I was thinking about how much fun I've been having the past few months skiing and climbing. This week I went out almost every night.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
rebuttal - by Joe Josephson
Franki's Fact Fix
A rebuttal.
My Week With Franki
A few days later I found another empty bottle out on the back porch. That makes the end count an even 12 bottles in 6 days.
Where the Hell is Roscoe?
The bumper sticker wasn't actually in my house. They were at the legendary Grizzly Bar in Roscoe, Montana. You can also get a classic T-Shirt with the same saying. Franki is correct about the size of this quaint local on the East Rosebud River.
http://www.montanataverns.com/_tavern.asp?id=21
And for the record, the directions I sent Franki were directly from Google Maps. I didn't double check them, however. If I'd spelled them out myself, it would have worked since she got lost exactly where my spidey senses told me she would. But hell, I figured she's got graduate degrees in science, protects us all from terrorists and God knows what else, and should be able to figure it out. Guess not.
Franki says: my degrees are actually in engineering, rendering me worthless in situations requiring, oh, what do they call it, "common sense". And, there was a Roscoe bumper sticker in your dad's house. In the basement. Go ahead and look, I'll wait right here.
The cabin is at the end of the road surrounded by almost a million acres of the Absaroka/Beartooth Wilderness about 40 miles from the Northeast corner of Yellowstone National Park. Franki has it backwards about the cabin. The original part, built in 1924, is the larger part and the smaller addition was built in the mid 1970s. This newer addition is much easier to heat and the part we use in winter.
My Grandmother's name was Harriet. She hated anyone to use the word "Grandmother" or "Nana" or anything similar. It was always just Harriet.
Pushing the Bush
To be technical about it, Franki's crampons weren't exactly "hiking crampons." They are simply a bit older than the specialized ones now used for steep water ice. As Franki proved all week, they climb just fine and the over-hyped, new tricked-out versions that all these wankers use today.
The ice on Hellroaring Falls actually never got in the sun all day. It came close near the end of the day. It was just that warm out.
In regards to "not climbing rotty ice," the conversation went more like this,
"What do you do about climbing this chandeliery, hollow stuff?"
"You avoid it."
And finally. They aren't steel. 'Dems brass.
Franki says: my apologies about your balls. Hard to believe I have a dad who is a metallurgist.
A Tiny Trip to Tickle Town
Mmmm.... pretty accurate. However, I don't remember yelling, "god damn fucking fuck!" and "fucking fuck!" and "this is fucking bullshit fuck fuck fuck! fucking god damn fuck! ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! this is shit fucking fuck!" as quoted by Franki. I was more muttering about it. Stuff like, "I can't believe it."
Franki says: Uh huh. I guess you are forgetting the part where you were trying to take the lug nuts off the first time with that limp wristed wrench that came with your vulva. Because I'm PRETTY SURE you said the F word. And the S word. A lot.
When telling the story later, no less than two friends told me, "I thought that was your car out there on the Freeway. I stopped but you weren't around." Great small town I live in here.
In the wake of the "Tiny Trip" comment at the checkout, I was not imagining running Franki over. I was just too numb to find a pithy come back. I was just shocked.
Franki says: That was a pretty scary beast trying to tickle you. I actually felt bad for you for the first time that day.
Creamed Cooch
I never said or thought there is "no bush in Canada" although there are lots of big fluffy beavers.
http://www.zazzle.com/home_of_the_furry_beaver_poster-228447757655386102
Any respecting Bushman (or whatever the fuck he called himself) should have been able to handle 45 degree weather (7 degrees Centigrade for you Canuks) without a fire built in the middle of a bunch of dried out trees. In over 20 years of climbing in Canada (including more -40 days than I care to admit), I have never seen nor ever heard of anyone building a fire while ice climbing. What have people come to these days? Now that I think about it, no respecting "bushman" would ever actually call himself a bushman. That's worse than ice instructors saying to guys, "push your hips into the ice like you are making love."
With all due respect to the other "groupies," they were sincere enough and I don't think they actually followed us to Chico. It is simply the place to go after ice climbing in Paradise Valley or Yellowstone Park. It's like the must stops at Laggan's Deli in Lake Louise or Orvis/City Pool in Ouray.
Franki says: you're being nice now that they aren't trying to have sex with you.
Not the Kind of Ice we Like
G1 is technically called "Genesis." G1 indicates the lower cliff band while G2 is the pitch up the hill a few hundred yards. G1 is a wide cliff band with a wide variety of pillars and curtains offering great, if not convenient, top roping on steep ice. It is the most climbed piece of ice in between Ouray and Canmore.
Franki says: Proof I don't exaggerate in my blog. If I did, I would have called it G11. And, thanks for taking me on the Montana whore of ice climbs.
I never yelled at the climbers about their anchor. In fact, I can't remember the last time I yelled at anyone I wasn't married too. I politely asked the dude to not put his top rope directly through the quick link on the slings as a community service to all the people that climb here. He indignantly went on about how he always does that, as if I've never really climbed before. I dropped it and just focused on belaying Franki. But he kept at it and after a few moments piped up, "It would take a while before it wore through the link." He was fishing for a fight. I just ignored him. No yelling. I told him to "Have a good one" when he left.
My friends we ran into in the parking lot weren't sponsored by Coors. They are athletes for The North Face and where there on a gig taking corporate employees ice climbing. One of them, Peter Croft, I hadn't seen in years and I was reminiscing how the last time I think I say Peter we were drinking Coors together while waiting for a plane in Reno, NV.
I actually have a photo somewhere of Peter with a cube of Coors under his arm from that day. Unfortunately I can't find it. When we left, I asked Franki if she knew who that was and she said she didn't know who Peter Croft is. That is one of the reasons I like Franki.
And about lighting Franki's cigarettes, it's true. Indeed I was concerned about Franki keeping both hands on the wheel. But also, I had offered several times over the week to be her house/errand boy. I'm underemployed. I guess wasn't very good at lighting her cigs because she never answered me about my offer.
Franki says: Dude, all I need is to be accused of causing you to start smoking cowboy killers. I would be banned from all future Rock & Ice parties. Which, come to think of it, is not a bad thing.
Eggs
Pika doesn't chew on heads (http://www.kookycatguy.com/). He has this way of placing his paw on you and holding it there. It would be cuter-than-shit if it wasn't usually against some skin a bit more tender than most and his claws not so sharp. Plus, Pika is polydactyl like Hemingway's famous cats in Key West. Look it up. So I can see how it might have felt like chewing. It's a sign of affection as far as I can tell. That, or "feed me."
Unlike Franki, who brought only one pair of anything on the trip, I had an advantage. I had a clean layer to put on by Friday. So I didn't smell quite so bad, at least for a few hours anyway.
She has the route we did on Friday a bit mixed up. We climbed Mummy 2. Mummy 1 is lower in the gully and a very short WI 2. The spectacular routes we were looking up at far above us were Mummy III and Mummy IV (a WI 6).
Franki says: Maybe it has less to do with under exaggerating. Maybe I just can't count.
When writing guidebooks, and encountering established routes with no name (usually smaller routes that no one knows who did it), I tend to give them a name and a grade anyway. It never ceases to amaze me how people will not climb something if it's not in the guidebook. Put a name and a grade on it, and no matter how crappy it is, it will get regular ascents. This particular piece of snot pouring out of the moss over a big phallic dead log (now there is an image) is about 50 yards left of Mummy 2. I thought we agreed to call it "Combat Jack" not "My Legs Are My Albatross" although upon retrospect I think the latter is more fitting.
Franki says: You said it was too pussy of a route to call it "combat jack".
Franki forgot to mention the well-known bumper sticker I told her about that is frequently sighted around Salt Lake City. "I (heart) Mormon Pussy".
I didn't give Franki a Grivel T-Shirt although it has a Grivel logo on the front (they were a long-time sponsor of mine so I put it there as a shout out to them). It is a First Ascent Press T-shirt with Randy Rackliff wood block art work and a hit list of the best routes in Hyalite and the Beartooths. Buy them here if you want, http://www.firstascentpress.com/buy.html (scroll down to the bottom of the page). I only have a few left! Since it doesn't look like my career as a house boy is going to work out, I need you all to buy my shit.
Franki says: Oops. If it had been a hit list of your Montana groupies I bet I would have gotten the t-shirt story straight.
The wine was called "The Guilty".
I didn't find Physics course work boring. Not at all. There were two reasons I quit Physics and switched to Philosophy. First was that I sucked at Calculus. Thus I would end up scoring 50s and 60s on these bi-weekly exams. They were just brutal. But thanks to the Bell Curve I was a B+ student. The second reason was this was during the Reagan era. If you'll recall, physicists during the time in the Cold War tended to graduate to work on missile systems. The first day of one semester I sat there thinking, I'm learning half the material, am considered above average and my future will be going to work on WMDs. It wasn't my idea of a career (still isn't). I dropped all my science that very day.
I had to get some of those homogeneous, amorphous, white, pasty, convenience store dumpties because I wasn't sure if I had enough of the home-grown, neighbor eggs left. Turns out I had two left. Just what we needed. The ones from the Town Pump (Seriously that is what it is called. Now contemplate that one -- getting eggs at the Town Pump) are still in the fridge with their peeling, individual ".99" orange price tags and will probably go into the compost if I can soon score some more better ones from one of my friends with chickens.
Franki says: but are you going to write on them first? why not write "organic" on them and eat them. It will be just like the ones Jen decorated.
The Hot Cakes were perfect.
Franki says: concur, and I appreciated not being ridiculed because I don't eat the crust.
Shakey Jakey
Go ahead and make fun of my Volvo or my Vulva all you want Franki. Those heated seats are great way to keep the bucket of KFC warm on long road trips.
Franki says: What's KFC? Is that like Climb On balm? Could I put it on my injured rotator cuff?
The headdress is not worth much actually, other than sentimental value. It's pretty beat up and far from museum quality. My great grandfather was a lawyer in Billings and did work with the Northern Cheyenne tribe back in the 1910s and 20s. The native stuff was a gift to him and definitely shows the generations of family enjoyment.
And regarding the swimsuit, my text to Franki read verbatim, "I found your swimsuit this morn. I can say a chica left her panties. Nice..."
Franki, "How embarrassing :D good thing it was you who found it.
Me, "Oh ya! I have SOOO many other girls filing through that would discover it."
Franki, "Dude, are you wearing it right now?
Me, "When you get them back, the bottom might be a bit stretched out. If u know what i mean"
Franki, "Gross :D"
Franki says: wait until the crotch blows out, and then you can wear it climbing
I don't have a guest room in my house but for the record, I offered my room to Franki and that I would take the couch. I tried to insist but she wouldn't have anything of it. You can't accuse me of not being a good host.
And in closing, while you are at it, have your boys send over some "little groupies." I've been waiting for them to show up for years.
Thanks Franki for immortalization of the week. It was great fun. I miss you having you around.
Love,
The Kid
Franki says: so you're actually going to admit I'm older and wiser?
Back to the Sopranos. I hate you for getting me hooked.
A rebuttal.
My Week With Franki
A few days later I found another empty bottle out on the back porch. That makes the end count an even 12 bottles in 6 days.
Where the Hell is Roscoe?
The bumper sticker wasn't actually in my house. They were at the legendary Grizzly Bar in Roscoe, Montana. You can also get a classic T-Shirt with the same saying. Franki is correct about the size of this quaint local on the East Rosebud River.
http://www.montanataverns.com/_tavern.asp?id=21
And for the record, the directions I sent Franki were directly from Google Maps. I didn't double check them, however. If I'd spelled them out myself, it would have worked since she got lost exactly where my spidey senses told me she would. But hell, I figured she's got graduate degrees in science, protects us all from terrorists and God knows what else, and should be able to figure it out. Guess not.
Franki says: my degrees are actually in engineering, rendering me worthless in situations requiring, oh, what do they call it, "common sense". And, there was a Roscoe bumper sticker in your dad's house. In the basement. Go ahead and look, I'll wait right here.
The cabin is at the end of the road surrounded by almost a million acres of the Absaroka/Beartooth Wilderness about 40 miles from the Northeast corner of Yellowstone National Park. Franki has it backwards about the cabin. The original part, built in 1924, is the larger part and the smaller addition was built in the mid 1970s. This newer addition is much easier to heat and the part we use in winter.
My Grandmother's name was Harriet. She hated anyone to use the word "Grandmother" or "Nana" or anything similar. It was always just Harriet.
Pushing the Bush
To be technical about it, Franki's crampons weren't exactly "hiking crampons." They are simply a bit older than the specialized ones now used for steep water ice. As Franki proved all week, they climb just fine and the over-hyped, new tricked-out versions that all these wankers use today.
The ice on Hellroaring Falls actually never got in the sun all day. It came close near the end of the day. It was just that warm out.
In regards to "not climbing rotty ice," the conversation went more like this,
"What do you do about climbing this chandeliery, hollow stuff?"
"You avoid it."
And finally. They aren't steel. 'Dems brass.
Franki says: my apologies about your balls. Hard to believe I have a dad who is a metallurgist.
A Tiny Trip to Tickle Town
Mmmm.... pretty accurate. However, I don't remember yelling, "god damn fucking fuck!" and "fucking fuck!" and "this is fucking bullshit fuck fuck fuck! fucking god damn fuck! ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! this is shit fucking fuck!" as quoted by Franki. I was more muttering about it. Stuff like, "I can't believe it."
Franki says: Uh huh. I guess you are forgetting the part where you were trying to take the lug nuts off the first time with that limp wristed wrench that came with your vulva. Because I'm PRETTY SURE you said the F word. And the S word. A lot.
When telling the story later, no less than two friends told me, "I thought that was your car out there on the Freeway. I stopped but you weren't around." Great small town I live in here.
In the wake of the "Tiny Trip" comment at the checkout, I was not imagining running Franki over. I was just too numb to find a pithy come back. I was just shocked.
Franki says: That was a pretty scary beast trying to tickle you. I actually felt bad for you for the first time that day.
Creamed Cooch
I never said or thought there is "no bush in Canada" although there are lots of big fluffy beavers.
http://www.zazzle.com/home_of_the_furry_beaver_poster-228447757655386102
Any respecting Bushman (or whatever the fuck he called himself) should have been able to handle 45 degree weather (7 degrees Centigrade for you Canuks) without a fire built in the middle of a bunch of dried out trees. In over 20 years of climbing in Canada (including more -40 days than I care to admit), I have never seen nor ever heard of anyone building a fire while ice climbing. What have people come to these days? Now that I think about it, no respecting "bushman" would ever actually call himself a bushman. That's worse than ice instructors saying to guys, "push your hips into the ice like you are making love."
With all due respect to the other "groupies," they were sincere enough and I don't think they actually followed us to Chico. It is simply the place to go after ice climbing in Paradise Valley or Yellowstone Park. It's like the must stops at Laggan's Deli in Lake Louise or Orvis/City Pool in Ouray.
Franki says: you're being nice now that they aren't trying to have sex with you.
Not the Kind of Ice we Like
G1 is technically called "Genesis." G1 indicates the lower cliff band while G2 is the pitch up the hill a few hundred yards. G1 is a wide cliff band with a wide variety of pillars and curtains offering great, if not convenient, top roping on steep ice. It is the most climbed piece of ice in between Ouray and Canmore.
Franki says: Proof I don't exaggerate in my blog. If I did, I would have called it G11. And, thanks for taking me on the Montana whore of ice climbs.
I never yelled at the climbers about their anchor. In fact, I can't remember the last time I yelled at anyone I wasn't married too. I politely asked the dude to not put his top rope directly through the quick link on the slings as a community service to all the people that climb here. He indignantly went on about how he always does that, as if I've never really climbed before. I dropped it and just focused on belaying Franki. But he kept at it and after a few moments piped up, "It would take a while before it wore through the link." He was fishing for a fight. I just ignored him. No yelling. I told him to "Have a good one" when he left.
My friends we ran into in the parking lot weren't sponsored by Coors. They are athletes for The North Face and where there on a gig taking corporate employees ice climbing. One of them, Peter Croft, I hadn't seen in years and I was reminiscing how the last time I think I say Peter we were drinking Coors together while waiting for a plane in Reno, NV.
I actually have a photo somewhere of Peter with a cube of Coors under his arm from that day. Unfortunately I can't find it. When we left, I asked Franki if she knew who that was and she said she didn't know who Peter Croft is. That is one of the reasons I like Franki.
And about lighting Franki's cigarettes, it's true. Indeed I was concerned about Franki keeping both hands on the wheel. But also, I had offered several times over the week to be her house/errand boy. I'm underemployed. I guess wasn't very good at lighting her cigs because she never answered me about my offer.
Franki says: Dude, all I need is to be accused of causing you to start smoking cowboy killers. I would be banned from all future Rock & Ice parties. Which, come to think of it, is not a bad thing.
Eggs
Pika doesn't chew on heads (http://www.kookycatguy.com/). He has this way of placing his paw on you and holding it there. It would be cuter-than-shit if it wasn't usually against some skin a bit more tender than most and his claws not so sharp. Plus, Pika is polydactyl like Hemingway's famous cats in Key West. Look it up. So I can see how it might have felt like chewing. It's a sign of affection as far as I can tell. That, or "feed me."
Unlike Franki, who brought only one pair of anything on the trip, I had an advantage. I had a clean layer to put on by Friday. So I didn't smell quite so bad, at least for a few hours anyway.
She has the route we did on Friday a bit mixed up. We climbed Mummy 2. Mummy 1 is lower in the gully and a very short WI 2. The spectacular routes we were looking up at far above us were Mummy III and Mummy IV (a WI 6).
Franki says: Maybe it has less to do with under exaggerating. Maybe I just can't count.
When writing guidebooks, and encountering established routes with no name (usually smaller routes that no one knows who did it), I tend to give them a name and a grade anyway. It never ceases to amaze me how people will not climb something if it's not in the guidebook. Put a name and a grade on it, and no matter how crappy it is, it will get regular ascents. This particular piece of snot pouring out of the moss over a big phallic dead log (now there is an image) is about 50 yards left of Mummy 2. I thought we agreed to call it "Combat Jack" not "My Legs Are My Albatross" although upon retrospect I think the latter is more fitting.
Franki says: You said it was too pussy of a route to call it "combat jack".
Franki forgot to mention the well-known bumper sticker I told her about that is frequently sighted around Salt Lake City. "I (heart) Mormon Pussy".
I didn't give Franki a Grivel T-Shirt although it has a Grivel logo on the front (they were a long-time sponsor of mine so I put it there as a shout out to them). It is a First Ascent Press T-shirt with Randy Rackliff wood block art work and a hit list of the best routes in Hyalite and the Beartooths. Buy them here if you want, http://www.firstascentpress.com/buy.html (scroll down to the bottom of the page). I only have a few left! Since it doesn't look like my career as a house boy is going to work out, I need you all to buy my shit.
Franki says: Oops. If it had been a hit list of your Montana groupies I bet I would have gotten the t-shirt story straight.
The wine was called "The Guilty".
I didn't find Physics course work boring. Not at all. There were two reasons I quit Physics and switched to Philosophy. First was that I sucked at Calculus. Thus I would end up scoring 50s and 60s on these bi-weekly exams. They were just brutal. But thanks to the Bell Curve I was a B+ student. The second reason was this was during the Reagan era. If you'll recall, physicists during the time in the Cold War tended to graduate to work on missile systems. The first day of one semester I sat there thinking, I'm learning half the material, am considered above average and my future will be going to work on WMDs. It wasn't my idea of a career (still isn't). I dropped all my science that very day.
I had to get some of those homogeneous, amorphous, white, pasty, convenience store dumpties because I wasn't sure if I had enough of the home-grown, neighbor eggs left. Turns out I had two left. Just what we needed. The ones from the Town Pump (Seriously that is what it is called. Now contemplate that one -- getting eggs at the Town Pump) are still in the fridge with their peeling, individual ".99" orange price tags and will probably go into the compost if I can soon score some more better ones from one of my friends with chickens.
Franki says: but are you going to write on them first? why not write "organic" on them and eat them. It will be just like the ones Jen decorated.
The Hot Cakes were perfect.
Franki says: concur, and I appreciated not being ridiculed because I don't eat the crust.
Shakey Jakey
Go ahead and make fun of my Volvo or my Vulva all you want Franki. Those heated seats are great way to keep the bucket of KFC warm on long road trips.
Franki says: What's KFC? Is that like Climb On balm? Could I put it on my injured rotator cuff?
The headdress is not worth much actually, other than sentimental value. It's pretty beat up and far from museum quality. My great grandfather was a lawyer in Billings and did work with the Northern Cheyenne tribe back in the 1910s and 20s. The native stuff was a gift to him and definitely shows the generations of family enjoyment.
And regarding the swimsuit, my text to Franki read verbatim, "I found your swimsuit this morn. I can say a chica left her panties. Nice..."
Franki, "How embarrassing :D good thing it was you who found it.
Me, "Oh ya! I have SOOO many other girls filing through that would discover it."
Franki, "Dude, are you wearing it right now?
Me, "When you get them back, the bottom might be a bit stretched out. If u know what i mean"
Franki, "Gross :D"
Franki says: wait until the crotch blows out, and then you can wear it climbing
I don't have a guest room in my house but for the record, I offered my room to Franki and that I would take the couch. I tried to insist but she wouldn't have anything of it. You can't accuse me of not being a good host.
And in closing, while you are at it, have your boys send over some "little groupies." I've been waiting for them to show up for years.
Thanks Franki for immortalization of the week. It was great fun. I miss you having you around.
Love,
The Kid
Franki says: so you're actually going to admit I'm older and wiser?
Back to the Sopranos. I hate you for getting me hooked.
shaky jakey
On Saturday, after pancakes, I packed Jake and then we went with Joe to the car wash. Jakey had so much snow still in his wheel wells that the tires were rubbing, and two had gone a little flat. Also, he was so mud covered I couldn't see out the windows. It seemed like some water was in order to correct both problems.
Joe wisely stood really far away while I attempted to wash Jakey in one of those do it yourself car washes. Suffice it to say if I worked at a car wash I would probably get fired. I managed to get as much water on myself as Jake. The floor of the car wash was covered in ice so every time I sprayed water out of the high pressure hose I would go sliding across the floor. And my hands were cold so I had a hard time controlling the hose.
We then went to a gas station and I filled Jakey's tires. We got on the highway headed for home by way of Big Timber. I was taking Joe by his dad's house to get a truck so he'd have a car to drive until his volvo is fixed (who ever heard of an ice climber that owns an expensive car with leather seats? and not just that, but you can heat the seats up - okay, done making fun of your car, Joe, though I should mention every time I type "volvo" I really want to type "vulva").
As soon as I got Jakey up to 45 MPH on the service road to the highway he started shaking. Badly. I was like what the FUCK is wrong with my car???? The highway was even worse. At only 60 MPH Jake was shaking so bad that he knocked two cigarettes out of the pack that I was holding against the steering wheel.
I didn't want to scare Joe, but I was thinking to turn around and head back to Livingston. I knew there was no way I could drive Jakey like that for 8 hours. Not just because my forearms were worked like little bitches. I was worried I was going to hurt Jake.
A short discussion ensued about my car. We were both kind of nervous since, earlier in the week, the same kind of scenario played out with Joe's car. First the tire, then the car went to shit. I wondered if I had screwed something up when I was putting air in his tires, or if I had screwed up his alignment driving too fast over bumps on the road to Hyalite (I did that just so I could hear the panic in Joe's voice when he said "there's a big bump coming up RIGHT THERE" as I would plow through a pot hole the size of one of the new england states without slowing down).
We got to Joe's dad's house, actually Joe's childhood home. I got to see paintings his grandmother Harriet had done, miniatures his mom painted, and more cool indian artifacts, including a head dress made with eagle feathers that's worth a million billion dollars that Joe's dad keeps in the basement. I would have enjoyed it all a lot more if I wasn't worried about Jake.
Joe got the truck out of the garage and said he would follow me out to the highway. I told him that if I was having problems I would take Jake back to Livingston. Joe surmised that Jake just had some ice or shit caught in the wheel well and that he would be okay. I was also nervous because my new crackberry battery has the life span of a gnat. If I ran into problems I would likely be in the middle of no where with a dying phone.
But, surprisingly, I got on the highway and Jakey was his usual sled dog self, running along at 85 MPH like it was nothing. I sent Joe a text to let him know he wouldn't have to put up with me sleeping on his couch for another night, though, I don't think he would have minded. He even said to me, when we were driving to his dad's house "I'm kind of surprised that I'm not sick of you yet". I made it home by 10ish, watched a movie, and then passed out.
Sunday morning I got a text message from Joe that said "I found your swimsuit this morn". Then he made a joke about me leaving my panties at his house, though, technically, they are aren't really panties. I had forgotten, after the hot springs, that I had hung my bathing suit up in his front foyer under a down jacket (classy). Luckily he found my suit before one of his little groupies did. And I feel bad that I hung a wet bathing suit under his down jacket. Oops.
He also said that everyone in the restaurant that he cooks at (where we were on Friday) refers to me as "the spy that smokes marlboro reds". For the record, my boys have a satellite trained right on Joe's house, at this very moment, to see if he's running around in my bathing suit.
And so ends the story of my ice climbing vacation with Joe. Stay tuned for the corrections. Joe is working on them as I write this.
Joe wisely stood really far away while I attempted to wash Jakey in one of those do it yourself car washes. Suffice it to say if I worked at a car wash I would probably get fired. I managed to get as much water on myself as Jake. The floor of the car wash was covered in ice so every time I sprayed water out of the high pressure hose I would go sliding across the floor. And my hands were cold so I had a hard time controlling the hose.
We then went to a gas station and I filled Jakey's tires. We got on the highway headed for home by way of Big Timber. I was taking Joe by his dad's house to get a truck so he'd have a car to drive until his volvo is fixed (who ever heard of an ice climber that owns an expensive car with leather seats? and not just that, but you can heat the seats up - okay, done making fun of your car, Joe, though I should mention every time I type "volvo" I really want to type "vulva").
As soon as I got Jakey up to 45 MPH on the service road to the highway he started shaking. Badly. I was like what the FUCK is wrong with my car???? The highway was even worse. At only 60 MPH Jake was shaking so bad that he knocked two cigarettes out of the pack that I was holding against the steering wheel.
I didn't want to scare Joe, but I was thinking to turn around and head back to Livingston. I knew there was no way I could drive Jakey like that for 8 hours. Not just because my forearms were worked like little bitches. I was worried I was going to hurt Jake.
A short discussion ensued about my car. We were both kind of nervous since, earlier in the week, the same kind of scenario played out with Joe's car. First the tire, then the car went to shit. I wondered if I had screwed something up when I was putting air in his tires, or if I had screwed up his alignment driving too fast over bumps on the road to Hyalite (I did that just so I could hear the panic in Joe's voice when he said "there's a big bump coming up RIGHT THERE" as I would plow through a pot hole the size of one of the new england states without slowing down).
We got to Joe's dad's house, actually Joe's childhood home. I got to see paintings his grandmother Harriet had done, miniatures his mom painted, and more cool indian artifacts, including a head dress made with eagle feathers that's worth a million billion dollars that Joe's dad keeps in the basement. I would have enjoyed it all a lot more if I wasn't worried about Jake.
Joe got the truck out of the garage and said he would follow me out to the highway. I told him that if I was having problems I would take Jake back to Livingston. Joe surmised that Jake just had some ice or shit caught in the wheel well and that he would be okay. I was also nervous because my new crackberry battery has the life span of a gnat. If I ran into problems I would likely be in the middle of no where with a dying phone.
But, surprisingly, I got on the highway and Jakey was his usual sled dog self, running along at 85 MPH like it was nothing. I sent Joe a text to let him know he wouldn't have to put up with me sleeping on his couch for another night, though, I don't think he would have minded. He even said to me, when we were driving to his dad's house "I'm kind of surprised that I'm not sick of you yet". I made it home by 10ish, watched a movie, and then passed out.
Sunday morning I got a text message from Joe that said "I found your swimsuit this morn". Then he made a joke about me leaving my panties at his house, though, technically, they are aren't really panties. I had forgotten, after the hot springs, that I had hung my bathing suit up in his front foyer under a down jacket (classy). Luckily he found my suit before one of his little groupies did. And I feel bad that I hung a wet bathing suit under his down jacket. Oops.
He also said that everyone in the restaurant that he cooks at (where we were on Friday) refers to me as "the spy that smokes marlboro reds". For the record, my boys have a satellite trained right on Joe's house, at this very moment, to see if he's running around in my bathing suit.
And so ends the story of my ice climbing vacation with Joe. Stay tuned for the corrections. Joe is working on them as I write this.
levels
Last night I had a dream that I was in a video game that involved house pest 2.0 and Joe. In the game I had to follow Joe up this never ending set of stairs that were in this rickety wooden structure. We hiked up the stairs for a while. I was behind Joe, and he was wearing his ice climbing gear. Then we got to a floor and HP2.0 was there. I was like "Hey, what are you doing here?" and Joe was like "Look out, he's trying to kill you!"
HP2.0 started swinging an ice ax at me. I was like "what the fuck are you doing?" and Joe yelled "you have to hit the V with your ice ax!" I realized I had an ice ax and that HP2.0 was wearing jeans with a glowing V on the back pocket. I was also wearing jeans with the same V. So we ran around for a while swinging at each other with our ice axes and then I hit HP2.0's V and he disappeared.
Then Joe started walking up more steps that had appeared. I followed him again and then we got to another floor. This time HP2.0 was holding a 2 x 4 and the room was stacked with lumber. He said "you have to hit me". I picked up a 2 x 4 too and started trying to hit HP2.0 in the head with it. I finally did and instead of his head exploding he just disappeared. Joe said "you're doing very good at this game" and I tried to tell him I'm horrible at video games but he wasn't listening to me. He had already turned around and was hiking up the next flight of stairs. I started thinking about how Colin at work used to make me play this helicopter flying game just because I always crashed my helicopter after about 15 seconds and that made him laugh. I started laughing and Joe turned around and said "do you want to make the stairs disappear?" and I said "no" so he said "then stop laughing".
Then we got to the third floor and it was a swamp with this really gross water that had oil spilled in it. Joe was like "you have to get in the water" and I didn't want to so he pushed me in. Then I realized HP2.0 was in the water and that he was going to try to drown me. So I was flailing around and then the water got really deep and I realized I was holding my ice axes. Joe started yelling at me to drop my ice axes but I didn't want to lose them in the water so I was trying to tread at the surface with my axes. HP2.0 pulled me about 5 feet under the water, and the water was pitch black, but I could see the light from the surface. Then the oil on the surface of the water started to form a crust and close up. I couldn't breathe and knew that if I didn't get to the surface before the oil finished crusting up that I would be trapped under water. I tried to swim to the surface but HP2.0 was holding my legs. And I had dropped my ice axes. I started thrashing around in the water because I couldn't breathe at all.
Then I woke up.
HP2.0 started swinging an ice ax at me. I was like "what the fuck are you doing?" and Joe yelled "you have to hit the V with your ice ax!" I realized I had an ice ax and that HP2.0 was wearing jeans with a glowing V on the back pocket. I was also wearing jeans with the same V. So we ran around for a while swinging at each other with our ice axes and then I hit HP2.0's V and he disappeared.
Then Joe started walking up more steps that had appeared. I followed him again and then we got to another floor. This time HP2.0 was holding a 2 x 4 and the room was stacked with lumber. He said "you have to hit me". I picked up a 2 x 4 too and started trying to hit HP2.0 in the head with it. I finally did and instead of his head exploding he just disappeared. Joe said "you're doing very good at this game" and I tried to tell him I'm horrible at video games but he wasn't listening to me. He had already turned around and was hiking up the next flight of stairs. I started thinking about how Colin at work used to make me play this helicopter flying game just because I always crashed my helicopter after about 15 seconds and that made him laugh. I started laughing and Joe turned around and said "do you want to make the stairs disappear?" and I said "no" so he said "then stop laughing".
Then we got to the third floor and it was a swamp with this really gross water that had oil spilled in it. Joe was like "you have to get in the water" and I didn't want to so he pushed me in. Then I realized HP2.0 was in the water and that he was going to try to drown me. So I was flailing around and then the water got really deep and I realized I was holding my ice axes. Joe started yelling at me to drop my ice axes but I didn't want to lose them in the water so I was trying to tread at the surface with my axes. HP2.0 pulled me about 5 feet under the water, and the water was pitch black, but I could see the light from the surface. Then the oil on the surface of the water started to form a crust and close up. I couldn't breathe and knew that if I didn't get to the surface before the oil finished crusting up that I would be trapped under water. I tried to swim to the surface but HP2.0 was holding my legs. And I had dropped my ice axes. I started thrashing around in the water because I couldn't breathe at all.
Then I woke up.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
eggs
Friday I woke up with yet another hang over. In our inebriated state the night before we had decided that, if the weather was still bad we would fore go climbing and watch the Sopranos all day. I was pretty worked from so much outdoor activity, and I told Joe the thought of climbing made me want to cry. He said "If you leave Montana crying I'll be very happy".
But, at 8 am Friday the sun was shining. Pika, one of Joe's cats, was chewing on my head. And Joe was wandering around the kitchen with his climbing clothes on. I contemplated faking death until it was too late for us to climb but then decided that I really wanted to go climbing instead.
I put on my clothes, the same ones I had been wearing all week. They smelled bad. Eye wateringly bad. When I'm on vacation I'm not about taking showers and being clean so I only brought one set of clothes to climb in. Joe's clothes smelled bad too. As we were hiking in to Mummy 1, back in Hyalite, I kept getting a whiff of my shirt through my down parka. I wanted to puke every time I smelled it. Also my boots were soaked, as were my mittens. And it was cold outside, probably around 5 degrees F.
That was my favorite approach, even though it was long and steep. You go around this bend, thinking the uphill will never ever stop, and suddenly there's the climb, all blue and shiny in the sun. It's like walking into your house after a long flight and finding someone has set up all your favorite sushi rolls on the kitchen table and you can't wait to sit down and eat them.
I should mention that we stopped half way up the approach because, shock and surprise, these two girls started yelling "Joe! Joe!" as we were walking by, and he stopped to talk to them. They were some girls he knows from town.
While we were getting our harnesses and crampons on Joe offered me a piece of a skor bar, which I've never had before. I ate it and Joe was immediately like "you don't really like it, do you?" I guess after a week of hanging out with me I'm pretty easy to read.
Mummy 1 wasn't a super hard climb, but I was tired and there were steep sections where my crampons were just shit. Also, it was covered with snow so it was hard to see where I was putting my feet. The first section was about 15 feet of vertical and I had to pull a screw out. I tried to get my feet in a good place but my left crampon kept blowing. I was cold and getting colder by the second. I couldn't get the fucking screw out easily because it had iced over on the top. My arms felt like ragged bath mats that someone should have throw away long ago.
After clearing that section I got into some super shit ice. Joe had warned me it was plating and to check my tools before I weighted them. I was trying to pull out the third screw on the route, and had my left ax in a pocket that was covered in snow so I couldn't really see the placement. My left crampon came out of the ice and I grabbed my left tool. Something tweaked in my shoulder and then the fucking ice plated out. I almost dropped my ice ax. My hands were so cold I could hardly close them but I managed to catch my tool.
When I got to the top of the climb Joe told me to look up. A big hawk of some kind was flying right over my head. It was beautiful. It reminded me of the time I saw a hawk climbing Power Play with Mayo. The wing span of the bird was huge.
I stumbled over to the anchor and looked out over the valley. Joe was pointing out ice climbs on the other side of the canyon and we could see two guys climbing over there. Then I looked behind me and saw Mummy 2 and the mountains. It's hard to exactly explain what that felt like but it's kind of like being at the airport waiting for a friend and suddenly you see them walking towards you and you're incredibly happy. So even though I climbed like shit I was very grateful to be standing on top of Mummy 1, seeing all the stuff that you can see from up there, and it was still more fun than anything else you can do.
After we rapped down we walked around so Joe could take pictures of some of the other climbs. We went into this super cool ice cave. Joe was thinking to climb the curtain that made up one wall of the ice cave but I was like I think my arms are going to fall off. He took a picture of one unnamed climb and then we talked about calling it "my legs are my albatross", a quote from an email
I got from Gadd. He's going to put it in the next guide book.
On the way down we, shock and surprise, ran into a group of four guys who knew Joe. He gave them recommendations on where to take some mormon girls climbing. I've never fucked a mormon but I might so I could steal his underwear. They have secret underwear that no one is supposed to see. Then we talked about women who have bushy bushes that hang out the sides of their underwear. Joe said that is the ultimate boner shrinker.
When we got back to Joe's he gave me a grivel t-shirt. I suspect it's because the t-shirt I had been wearing while we weren't climbing was starting to smell. He also gave me these cool little rubber things that you use with a carabiner to provide an easy way to hook screws when you're cleaning a route.
That night we went to a restaurant where Joe is learning to cook. I had a bit of a crisis trying to find something to wear as I had driven out to Montana in a pajama top and didn't bring any non climbing clothes except for one shirt that got wet and gross at Chico hot springs. I ended up wearing my pajama top.
We sat at the bar. We ran into, shock and surprise, a bunch of people who know Joe. We picked a wine called guilty off the list and it was excellent and appropriate.
We were being kind of tired and low key until the restaurant owner's girlfriend Jen showed up. Joe said he thought we were similar characters. I agreed when, five minutes into the conversation, she executed the perfect insertion of the word "cunt" in an otherwise innocuous sentence.
I mentioned that I thought people should use the words cunt, twat, and pussy more often, as people usually just say dick, and look where that's gotten the world. Then she brought up the Imoto water study and how she thought it was shit that words can change things. Then I tried to remember the name of the movie about the Imoto water study and the bartender Nathaniel said "it's what the bleep do we know?". He really likes physics. I should mention here that Joe thought about getting a degree in physics but he found the course work boring. But he talks like an engineer which is funny. He was going on with this technical explanation about this ice curtain we were looking at climbing and finally I was like "so Joe, what you are saying is the ice is cracked?" What a geek.
I attempted to have a side conversation with Nathaniel about quantum physics and karate (he does muay thai which is similar to the karate form I studied, hisardut) while also talking to Jen about her chickens.
Until I had an organic egg, resulting in a discussion about eggs with Joe, I didn't realize a chicken doesn't have to get fucked to lay an egg. And then I found out from Jen you can buy eggs of any kind of chicken you want and put them in this machine that makes them hatch. I suggested that she write words on the eggs to test Imoto's theory. At first I was thinking "happy" and "sad" but then thought it wouldn't be good to have sad chickens. So I suggested she draw a penis on a few eggs and see if they came out roosters. She said that was manipulation and she didn't want to do that. And the eggs she has are expensive because they are an almost extinct breed, so we were thinking she should do the experiment with cheap eggs.
Then I went out and smoked and while doing that started thinking about the crystalline structures of ice and chaos theory and when I got back inside tried to explain a poorly expressed idea about studying chaos with ice so you could get a PhD but the whole time you would be ice climbing. Jen said my idea sucked. Then I started talking to Nathaniel about chaos and a tangent about how differential equations are fun but by that point we had finished the bottle of guilty and I don't remember what the fuck I was saying. I do remember Joe telling me that I should stop ordering my eggs by saying "I want them to be flat and cooked at the yellow part and not mixed in all together" and instead say "I want my eggs over hard" and me saying something inappropriate about over hard right as the chef that's teaching Joe how to cook walked out of the kitchen. He laughed and walked back in and Joe said "that was perfect timing".
Joe drove us home since I was kind of liquidated, but first we stopped by a gas station to get ingredients so Joe could make us Harriet's hot cakes, which is a special recipe his grandmother made up. We had to buy two eggs and some milk. Joe put the eggs in his down jacket pocket, which I wasn't sure was a great idea, especially when he was putting his seat belt on, but the eggs didn't break. I vaguely remember saying something about burned pancakes and how I would be really depressed if the pancakes were burned. I think we watched some sopranos when we got home, and we finished the bottle of red wine with the lady in the red dress on the label.
And Joe, ha ha, told me that night he was worried I was going to get bored hanging out with him.
Joe made hotcakes Saturday morning and they were perfect.
But, at 8 am Friday the sun was shining. Pika, one of Joe's cats, was chewing on my head. And Joe was wandering around the kitchen with his climbing clothes on. I contemplated faking death until it was too late for us to climb but then decided that I really wanted to go climbing instead.
I put on my clothes, the same ones I had been wearing all week. They smelled bad. Eye wateringly bad. When I'm on vacation I'm not about taking showers and being clean so I only brought one set of clothes to climb in. Joe's clothes smelled bad too. As we were hiking in to Mummy 1, back in Hyalite, I kept getting a whiff of my shirt through my down parka. I wanted to puke every time I smelled it. Also my boots were soaked, as were my mittens. And it was cold outside, probably around 5 degrees F.
That was my favorite approach, even though it was long and steep. You go around this bend, thinking the uphill will never ever stop, and suddenly there's the climb, all blue and shiny in the sun. It's like walking into your house after a long flight and finding someone has set up all your favorite sushi rolls on the kitchen table and you can't wait to sit down and eat them.
I should mention that we stopped half way up the approach because, shock and surprise, these two girls started yelling "Joe! Joe!" as we were walking by, and he stopped to talk to them. They were some girls he knows from town.
While we were getting our harnesses and crampons on Joe offered me a piece of a skor bar, which I've never had before. I ate it and Joe was immediately like "you don't really like it, do you?" I guess after a week of hanging out with me I'm pretty easy to read.
Mummy 1 wasn't a super hard climb, but I was tired and there were steep sections where my crampons were just shit. Also, it was covered with snow so it was hard to see where I was putting my feet. The first section was about 15 feet of vertical and I had to pull a screw out. I tried to get my feet in a good place but my left crampon kept blowing. I was cold and getting colder by the second. I couldn't get the fucking screw out easily because it had iced over on the top. My arms felt like ragged bath mats that someone should have throw away long ago.
After clearing that section I got into some super shit ice. Joe had warned me it was plating and to check my tools before I weighted them. I was trying to pull out the third screw on the route, and had my left ax in a pocket that was covered in snow so I couldn't really see the placement. My left crampon came out of the ice and I grabbed my left tool. Something tweaked in my shoulder and then the fucking ice plated out. I almost dropped my ice ax. My hands were so cold I could hardly close them but I managed to catch my tool.
When I got to the top of the climb Joe told me to look up. A big hawk of some kind was flying right over my head. It was beautiful. It reminded me of the time I saw a hawk climbing Power Play with Mayo. The wing span of the bird was huge.
I stumbled over to the anchor and looked out over the valley. Joe was pointing out ice climbs on the other side of the canyon and we could see two guys climbing over there. Then I looked behind me and saw Mummy 2 and the mountains. It's hard to exactly explain what that felt like but it's kind of like being at the airport waiting for a friend and suddenly you see them walking towards you and you're incredibly happy. So even though I climbed like shit I was very grateful to be standing on top of Mummy 1, seeing all the stuff that you can see from up there, and it was still more fun than anything else you can do.
After we rapped down we walked around so Joe could take pictures of some of the other climbs. We went into this super cool ice cave. Joe was thinking to climb the curtain that made up one wall of the ice cave but I was like I think my arms are going to fall off. He took a picture of one unnamed climb and then we talked about calling it "my legs are my albatross", a quote from an email
I got from Gadd. He's going to put it in the next guide book.On the way down we, shock and surprise, ran into a group of four guys who knew Joe. He gave them recommendations on where to take some mormon girls climbing. I've never fucked a mormon but I might so I could steal his underwear. They have secret underwear that no one is supposed to see. Then we talked about women who have bushy bushes that hang out the sides of their underwear. Joe said that is the ultimate boner shrinker.
When we got back to Joe's he gave me a grivel t-shirt. I suspect it's because the t-shirt I had been wearing while we weren't climbing was starting to smell. He also gave me these cool little rubber things that you use with a carabiner to provide an easy way to hook screws when you're cleaning a route.
That night we went to a restaurant where Joe is learning to cook. I had a bit of a crisis trying to find something to wear as I had driven out to Montana in a pajama top and didn't bring any non climbing clothes except for one shirt that got wet and gross at Chico hot springs. I ended up wearing my pajama top.
We sat at the bar. We ran into, shock and surprise, a bunch of people who know Joe. We picked a wine called guilty off the list and it was excellent and appropriate.
We were being kind of tired and low key until the restaurant owner's girlfriend Jen showed up. Joe said he thought we were similar characters. I agreed when, five minutes into the conversation, she executed the perfect insertion of the word "cunt" in an otherwise innocuous sentence.
I mentioned that I thought people should use the words cunt, twat, and pussy more often, as people usually just say dick, and look where that's gotten the world. Then she brought up the Imoto water study and how she thought it was shit that words can change things. Then I tried to remember the name of the movie about the Imoto water study and the bartender Nathaniel said "it's what the bleep do we know?". He really likes physics. I should mention here that Joe thought about getting a degree in physics but he found the course work boring. But he talks like an engineer which is funny. He was going on with this technical explanation about this ice curtain we were looking at climbing and finally I was like "so Joe, what you are saying is the ice is cracked?" What a geek.
I attempted to have a side conversation with Nathaniel about quantum physics and karate (he does muay thai which is similar to the karate form I studied, hisardut) while also talking to Jen about her chickens.
Until I had an organic egg, resulting in a discussion about eggs with Joe, I didn't realize a chicken doesn't have to get fucked to lay an egg. And then I found out from Jen you can buy eggs of any kind of chicken you want and put them in this machine that makes them hatch. I suggested that she write words on the eggs to test Imoto's theory. At first I was thinking "happy" and "sad" but then thought it wouldn't be good to have sad chickens. So I suggested she draw a penis on a few eggs and see if they came out roosters. She said that was manipulation and she didn't want to do that. And the eggs she has are expensive because they are an almost extinct breed, so we were thinking she should do the experiment with cheap eggs.
Then I went out and smoked and while doing that started thinking about the crystalline structures of ice and chaos theory and when I got back inside tried to explain a poorly expressed idea about studying chaos with ice so you could get a PhD but the whole time you would be ice climbing. Jen said my idea sucked. Then I started talking to Nathaniel about chaos and a tangent about how differential equations are fun but by that point we had finished the bottle of guilty and I don't remember what the fuck I was saying. I do remember Joe telling me that I should stop ordering my eggs by saying "I want them to be flat and cooked at the yellow part and not mixed in all together" and instead say "I want my eggs over hard" and me saying something inappropriate about over hard right as the chef that's teaching Joe how to cook walked out of the kitchen. He laughed and walked back in and Joe said "that was perfect timing".
Joe drove us home since I was kind of liquidated, but first we stopped by a gas station to get ingredients so Joe could make us Harriet's hot cakes, which is a special recipe his grandmother made up. We had to buy two eggs and some milk. Joe put the eggs in his down jacket pocket, which I wasn't sure was a great idea, especially when he was putting his seat belt on, but the eggs didn't break. I vaguely remember saying something about burned pancakes and how I would be really depressed if the pancakes were burned. I think we watched some sopranos when we got home, and we finished the bottle of red wine with the lady in the red dress on the label.
And Joe, ha ha, told me that night he was worried I was going to get bored hanging out with him.
Joe made hotcakes Saturday morning and they were perfect.
not the kind of ice we like
Thursday we climbed in Hyalite at an area called G1. As we pulled onto the access road going into the park I started to get worried because there was a sign saying that cars should use chains. Joe said "oh that's just to keep the yahoos out". Hm.
Joe spent 3 years trying to get the access road open in the winter. They plow it now when it snows. Anyone who climbs there should show their gratitude to Joe by buying his guide book Winter Dance. In fact, buy 10 copies and give them as gifts.
I only made Joe a little nervous with my driving. He only stomped his foot on the floor a few times when he thought I should slow down. The road was icy and I couldn't go more than 15 MPH. We finally arrived at the parking area and I climbed over some snow banks to pee. There are bathrooms in Hyalite but they are scary. When I got back to the car I was laughing because there was a tent pitched right behind a sign that said "no camping". Joe laughed to because the tent was pitched in the area where everyone goes to the bathroom.
G1 was a really cool collection of ice. We decided to climb there the whole day because there were so many lines. Two other groups were climbing there. One group was two guys who were kind of suck climbers. They were timing how long it was taking them to climb things. It was pretty gay. The belayer started yelling up to his friend climbing that he was going to lead some really hard pitch elsewhere in the park when his friend was done climbing. I had to stifle a laugh. Joe yelled at them because they set up their anchor wrong, and the belayer kid started trying to argue with Joe rather than learn something.
I was walking over to climb a pitch when the suck climber kid was getting lowered. He wanted to leave because it had started snowing and it was getting cold. The belayer said he wanted to stay and watch me (probably to look at my ass) and the suck climber said "who wants to watch a girl climb".
There were two other guys climbing there, who were pretty cool. They both knew who Joe was but they weren't being obnoxious groupies but they were listening in our our conversations. When I started telling Joe a story of an expression "warm bowl of soup", which is what a kid I knew in Ouray called a vagina they started laughing. When I said "my cat crap (gel used to clean glasses that keeps them from fogging, you buy it at REI) dried out and now it isn't working (because my glasses kept fogging)" and Joe thought I said "my cat crack dried up and now it isn't working" he turned to the other climbers and said "there's nothing at this point that could come out of her mouth that would surprise me". The other climbers also thought I said "cat crack".
As the day went on it started snowing harder. Then the wind picked up and it was getting cold. The last climb I did was a corner route. The snow was blowing so hard I couldn't see where I was putting my tools. Joe was standing 40 feet below me and could barely see me. When I got down we decided to pack it in and Joe went up the same route to clean the anchor. As he was climbing he knocked down a suit case sized piece of ice. He yelled as it was falling but I couldn't hear him in the wind. The ice landed an inch away from where I was standing. I had been about to move to that spot seconds before the ice fell because it was next to a tree and I thought it might block some of the wind and snow. Meanwhile Joe thought he had hit me with the ice, and that I was laying unconscious in the snow because he was yelling to me and I wasn't answering. So he cleaned the anchor and rapped down. I guess he was happy to find me alive and in one piece.
In the parking lot we ran into some of his climbing friends and he talked to them for a while. One is apparently sponsored by Coors. They were making a movie or something.
Then we started the epic drive out of Hyalite. Joe was really nervous so he said he would light my cigarettes for me. I thought that was funny because the past two days we had been around all these people that see Joe as a climbing god, and he was lighting my cigarettes.
We got out on the main road and the conditions weren't any better. We kept having to stop to clear the ice of the wipers. Sometimes I couldn't see out my part of the windshield at all so Joe had to tell me where to go. We got on the highway right before they closed it and crawled back to Livingston where we procured more wine and a pizza. We both needed a drink after that drive. While we were driving through the parking lot Joe had to grab the steering wheel a few times because I couldn't see where all the parking lot bumps were and kept almost running over them.
When we got back to his house with our pizza we decided to watch the Sopranos because I've never seen it. Some how we managed to stay up until 1 in the morning, and drink almost two bottles of wine. And now I'm hooked on the Sopranos.
Joe spent 3 years trying to get the access road open in the winter. They plow it now when it snows. Anyone who climbs there should show their gratitude to Joe by buying his guide book Winter Dance. In fact, buy 10 copies and give them as gifts.
I only made Joe a little nervous with my driving. He only stomped his foot on the floor a few times when he thought I should slow down. The road was icy and I couldn't go more than 15 MPH. We finally arrived at the parking area and I climbed over some snow banks to pee. There are bathrooms in Hyalite but they are scary. When I got back to the car I was laughing because there was a tent pitched right behind a sign that said "no camping". Joe laughed to because the tent was pitched in the area where everyone goes to the bathroom.
G1 was a really cool collection of ice. We decided to climb there the whole day because there were so many lines. Two other groups were climbing there. One group was two guys who were kind of suck climbers. They were timing how long it was taking them to climb things. It was pretty gay. The belayer started yelling up to his friend climbing that he was going to lead some really hard pitch elsewhere in the park when his friend was done climbing. I had to stifle a laugh. Joe yelled at them because they set up their anchor wrong, and the belayer kid started trying to argue with Joe rather than learn something.
I was walking over to climb a pitch when the suck climber kid was getting lowered. He wanted to leave because it had started snowing and it was getting cold. The belayer said he wanted to stay and watch me (probably to look at my ass) and the suck climber said "who wants to watch a girl climb".
There were two other guys climbing there, who were pretty cool. They both knew who Joe was but they weren't being obnoxious groupies but they were listening in our our conversations. When I started telling Joe a story of an expression "warm bowl of soup", which is what a kid I knew in Ouray called a vagina they started laughing. When I said "my cat crap (gel used to clean glasses that keeps them from fogging, you buy it at REI) dried out and now it isn't working (because my glasses kept fogging)" and Joe thought I said "my cat crack dried up and now it isn't working" he turned to the other climbers and said "there's nothing at this point that could come out of her mouth that would surprise me". The other climbers also thought I said "cat crack".
As the day went on it started snowing harder. Then the wind picked up and it was getting cold. The last climb I did was a corner route. The snow was blowing so hard I couldn't see where I was putting my tools. Joe was standing 40 feet below me and could barely see me. When I got down we decided to pack it in and Joe went up the same route to clean the anchor. As he was climbing he knocked down a suit case sized piece of ice. He yelled as it was falling but I couldn't hear him in the wind. The ice landed an inch away from where I was standing. I had been about to move to that spot seconds before the ice fell because it was next to a tree and I thought it might block some of the wind and snow. Meanwhile Joe thought he had hit me with the ice, and that I was laying unconscious in the snow because he was yelling to me and I wasn't answering. So he cleaned the anchor and rapped down. I guess he was happy to find me alive and in one piece.
In the parking lot we ran into some of his climbing friends and he talked to them for a while. One is apparently sponsored by Coors. They were making a movie or something.
Then we started the epic drive out of Hyalite. Joe was really nervous so he said he would light my cigarettes for me. I thought that was funny because the past two days we had been around all these people that see Joe as a climbing god, and he was lighting my cigarettes.
We got out on the main road and the conditions weren't any better. We kept having to stop to clear the ice of the wipers. Sometimes I couldn't see out my part of the windshield at all so Joe had to tell me where to go. We got on the highway right before they closed it and crawled back to Livingston where we procured more wine and a pizza. We both needed a drink after that drive. While we were driving through the parking lot Joe had to grab the steering wheel a few times because I couldn't see where all the parking lot bumps were and kept almost running over them.
When we got back to his house with our pizza we decided to watch the Sopranos because I've never seen it. Some how we managed to stay up until 1 in the morning, and drink almost two bottles of wine. And now I'm hooked on the Sopranos.
creamed cooch
Wednesday morning we decided to forget about the whole car drama of the previous day and climb at Pine Creek.
We hiked up to green gully, one of the classic climbs there. It was a little harder than it looked from the bottom, but it was lots of fun to climb. As I was half way up a group of four guys came up to the bottom of the climb. When I lowered off one of them said to me "wow, you climbed that really good", "for a girl" being the unspoken part of his comment.
Then we did blue gully, which was a lot easier. Joe rapped off and then I followed. I had forgotten my daisy chain and was using a sling to clip in to the anchor. The sling was a lot shorter than my daisy but, out of habit, I passed the carabiner between my legs and clipped it to the back loop on my harness. I always do that with my daisy chain because it keeps it out of my way.
The top part of blue gully is not steep so I walked down it for the most part. The ropes were snowy so they were kind of hard to feed through my ATC. I have a hard time rapping anyway because I need to weigh more. I felt something kind of weird against the back of my ass but figured I had gotten my leg loop twisted.
But as I started rapping down the steep part of blue gully I felt a really bad pain suddenly shoot through my chop chop. It was like someone had kicked me right between the legs. After a second I realized that the sling was what was causing the pain. It was like the worst thong ever. I decided to keep rapping rather than trying to fix it, though by the time I was on the ground I felt like I was going to pass out. As soon as I was off rappel I dropped the rope, grabbed my crotch, and screamed. Joe was like "what the fuck is wrong with you?" and I said the first thing that came to mind which was "I just creamed my cooch". Through the tears in my eyes I could see Joe laughing. For the record, it bruised, prompting Joe to remark "too bad you didn't hurt it doing something good".
We hiked back by green gully and found an idiot from Calgary sitting next to a pretty big fire under a group of trees. There have been a lot of fires in Pine Creek and Joe was pissed. He asked the guy to put the fire out and the little moron said "I've been in the bush my whole life and I know how to control a fire". Joe was like if your so smart why did you build a fire under a bunch of fucking trees? Also, it wasn't cold enough outside to even warrant a fire.
The guys who had climbed green gully were milling around waiting for Joe, and as soon as he was close to the group they were like "Are you Joe Josephson?" Then they started asking him about climbs in the Yukon and what it was like doing long routes, and basically bugging the shit out of him, though Joe was very nice about it. Those guys were so excited to meet him that they practically offered up their daughters for Joe to fuck. As Joe said later "I don't know if their daughters would have fucked me, but I bet one of those guys would have".
It's kind of the way things are with Joe. Every time we would go somewhere he would run into someone he knew or he would get accosted by groupies. Joe doesn't brag about climbing and most of the stories he told me were about climbing trips gone bad. I only learned about the other epic shit he did listening to the groupies, who seem to have memorized his entire life.
We got back to the car and the guys obviously wanted Joe to talk to them for forever, except for the calgarian who was hiding in the car because Joe yelled at him. But we were going to go to Chico hot springs so we made a hasty get away, but not before I accidentally said "I can't wait to get to the hot springs". When we got in the car we made more fun of the calgarian, especially the comment about being in the bush. I said "I have a bush so I should be able to start a fire anywhere". Joe was like "there's no fucking bush in canada", resulting in an unrepeatable conversation that also had some jokes about the big fluffy beaver.
The groupies followed us to the hot springs so we had to hide in the hot pool until they went away. Then we had dinner at the bar and had to listen to this little drunk idiot talk about how it was his birthday and did anyone want to buy him a drink.
We got home and drank a bottle of wine. Joe showed me a book his mom put together about his family. I started reading the story of his great grandfather, who grew up in an orphanage and then had this little life of crime before settling down. It was amazing. His mom put pictures in the book too. I was going to write in my blog that night but decided I was too tired. Joe was like thank god.
He, for some reason, was worried I would make fun of him in my blog.
Instead we decided, at 1 in the morning, to watch North by Northwest. Went to bed around 330 and got up at 8 to go climb.
We hiked up to green gully, one of the classic climbs there. It was a little harder than it looked from the bottom, but it was lots of fun to climb. As I was half way up a group of four guys came up to the bottom of the climb. When I lowered off one of them said to me "wow, you climbed that really good", "for a girl" being the unspoken part of his comment.
Then we did blue gully, which was a lot easier. Joe rapped off and then I followed. I had forgotten my daisy chain and was using a sling to clip in to the anchor. The sling was a lot shorter than my daisy but, out of habit, I passed the carabiner between my legs and clipped it to the back loop on my harness. I always do that with my daisy chain because it keeps it out of my way.
The top part of blue gully is not steep so I walked down it for the most part. The ropes were snowy so they were kind of hard to feed through my ATC. I have a hard time rapping anyway because I need to weigh more. I felt something kind of weird against the back of my ass but figured I had gotten my leg loop twisted.
But as I started rapping down the steep part of blue gully I felt a really bad pain suddenly shoot through my chop chop. It was like someone had kicked me right between the legs. After a second I realized that the sling was what was causing the pain. It was like the worst thong ever. I decided to keep rapping rather than trying to fix it, though by the time I was on the ground I felt like I was going to pass out. As soon as I was off rappel I dropped the rope, grabbed my crotch, and screamed. Joe was like "what the fuck is wrong with you?" and I said the first thing that came to mind which was "I just creamed my cooch". Through the tears in my eyes I could see Joe laughing. For the record, it bruised, prompting Joe to remark "too bad you didn't hurt it doing something good".
We hiked back by green gully and found an idiot from Calgary sitting next to a pretty big fire under a group of trees. There have been a lot of fires in Pine Creek and Joe was pissed. He asked the guy to put the fire out and the little moron said "I've been in the bush my whole life and I know how to control a fire". Joe was like if your so smart why did you build a fire under a bunch of fucking trees? Also, it wasn't cold enough outside to even warrant a fire.
The guys who had climbed green gully were milling around waiting for Joe, and as soon as he was close to the group they were like "Are you Joe Josephson?" Then they started asking him about climbs in the Yukon and what it was like doing long routes, and basically bugging the shit out of him, though Joe was very nice about it. Those guys were so excited to meet him that they practically offered up their daughters for Joe to fuck. As Joe said later "I don't know if their daughters would have fucked me, but I bet one of those guys would have".
It's kind of the way things are with Joe. Every time we would go somewhere he would run into someone he knew or he would get accosted by groupies. Joe doesn't brag about climbing and most of the stories he told me were about climbing trips gone bad. I only learned about the other epic shit he did listening to the groupies, who seem to have memorized his entire life.
We got back to the car and the guys obviously wanted Joe to talk to them for forever, except for the calgarian who was hiding in the car because Joe yelled at him. But we were going to go to Chico hot springs so we made a hasty get away, but not before I accidentally said "I can't wait to get to the hot springs". When we got in the car we made more fun of the calgarian, especially the comment about being in the bush. I said "I have a bush so I should be able to start a fire anywhere". Joe was like "there's no fucking bush in canada", resulting in an unrepeatable conversation that also had some jokes about the big fluffy beaver.
The groupies followed us to the hot springs so we had to hide in the hot pool until they went away. Then we had dinner at the bar and had to listen to this little drunk idiot talk about how it was his birthday and did anyone want to buy him a drink.
We got home and drank a bottle of wine. Joe showed me a book his mom put together about his family. I started reading the story of his great grandfather, who grew up in an orphanage and then had this little life of crime before settling down. It was amazing. His mom put pictures in the book too. I was going to write in my blog that night but decided I was too tired. Joe was like thank god.
He, for some reason, was worried I would make fun of him in my blog.
Instead we decided, at 1 in the morning, to watch North by Northwest. Went to bed around 330 and got up at 8 to go climb.
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