ScottP

"they come untied all the time" "Round laces also come untied easier" "They come untied easier." The answer to all your yipping.

??? ??? ???

Cause they don't have fricking laser beams attached to their heads. I've been informed this can't be done.

It depends on your lung capacity. And the length of the lace.

Brown Material Road

Second only to Sam MAgee as my favorite Robert Service poem... The Men That Don't Fit In There's a race of men that don't fit in a race that can't stay still. So they break the hearts of kith and kin and they roam the world at will. They range the world, they roam the flood they climb the mountain crest. Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood and the don't know how to rest. If they just went straight they might go far. They are strong and brave and true. But they are always tired of the things that are and they want the strange and new. They say, "Could I find my proper groove, what a deep mark I would make." So they chop and change, and each fresh start is only a fresh mistake. And each forgets, as he strips and runs with a brilliant, fitful pace. It's the slow steady plodding ones who win in the life long race. And each forgets that his youth has fled, forgets that his prime is past, 'til he stands one day with a hope that's dead in the glare of the truth at last. He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance. He has just done things by half. Life's been a jolly good joke on him and now it's time to laugh. He is one of the legion lost he was never meant to win. He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in his bone; He's a man who won't fit in.

It's hard to imagine that that guy put on that shirt and actually thought, "This looks good, but it needs a headband."

(As recited by Edie Murphy on SNL) Images by Tyrone Green Dark and lonely on a summer's night. Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord. Watchdog barking. Do he bite? Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord. Slip in his window. Break his neck. Then his house I start to wreck. Got no reason. What the heck? Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord. C-I-L my land lord!

Someone needs a hug.

California Senate Bill 420 THE PEOPLE OF THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA DO ENACT AS FOLLOWS: SECTION 1. (a) The Legislature finds and declares all of the following: (1) On November 6, 1996, the people of the State of California enacted the Compassionate Use Act of 1996 (hereafter the act), codified in Section 11362.5 of the Health and Safety Code, in order to allow seriously ill residents of the state, who have the oral or written approval or recommendation of a physician, to use marijuana for medical purposes without fear of criminal liability under Sections 11357 and 11358 of the Health and Safety Code. (2) However, reports from across the state have revealed problems and uncertainties in the act that have impeded the ability of law enforcement officers to enforce its provisions as the voters intended and, therefore, have prevented qualified patients and designated primary caregivers from obtaining the protections afforded by the act. (3) Furthermore, the enactment of this law, as well as other recent legislation dealing with pain control, demonstrates that more information is needed to assess the number of individuals across the state who are suffering from serious medical conditions that are not being adequately alleviated through the use of conventional medications. (snip)

Hence the "(just kidding)" part of my post.

Shocker

Sign of the Otter

If someone was ambitious and had a chain saw, they could block the road so less stuff would rain down from the top of the Upper Wall. (just kidding)

Which is the demure one?

Okay, if you insist...

Red Rocks. Spent the night in the Solar Slab Gully 2 days after the winter solstice wearing daytrip clothes after rap ropes got stuck in the dark on an overhanging rappel. I have never been so cold in my fucking life. I think the heat from a pitiful pile of sticks and grass I manged to scrounge from the bottom of our bivy hole saved my ass, otherwise I was ready to solo the descent in the dark, leaving my snoring partner to deal with it all by himself.

I'll get more if you want them.

The doctor wouldn't give it a name beyond "viral". After listening to the upper part of my chest, she just looked at me funny and said, "You need treatment. It's a good thing you brought a book, you will be here a while." 3 doses of nebulized albuterol later (each one giving me the equivalent of the DT shakes) I got a shot in my "hip" that sent pain down my entire leg and left me unable to sit for about ten minutes. The doc came back several pages later and listened to the upper and lower part of my chest, commenting that now she could hear something. She let me know my blow test was showing my lungs at "almost" 60% capacity. I call it Living Hell. It's one of those kinds of things that makes you feel like you are living in the second half of your life. I have been constantly hacking hard enough for the last week to make these little spikes of pain in various parts of the front of my skull. The innumerable teaspoons of viscous, blood-laced phlegm quit on Sunday-a day after the wickedness of the multi-part steroid program started. Now it is just a dry hack, with sharper pains in my skull due to there being no mucus to push against. Forecast for the week is nothing but sun.

Memorial Day Weekend Ski to Sea relay race Mt Baker Ski Area to Bellingham Bay Something to think about avoiding like the plague.

According to Dan Savage, it's the frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex. Santorum. Hmmm... he may be onto something...

And the skins can beused to make all kinds of leather goods...

"I'm gonna kick tomorrow."