Alpinfox

Frank Buckley crankin at the mudpile:

I'm trying to imagine the conversation. "Hi fucker. Can I have my jacket back?" "Uh, ok." "Hi, I think you have found my jacket. I'll give you 20 bucks for it." Canadians.

So that takes care of the anonymous part but you still need to: -stop picking fights -donate some money -write some TRs John, you don't know shit. Shut the fuck up.

I agree with the sentiment anyway. But if someone offered me a big raise and it required a commute, I'd have to consider it and it's not so easy to just move close to your work once you have a house/family/roots/etc.

You've got to be kidding.

but fuel costs are only part of the cost of driving... I agree. Ammunition is CRAZY EXPENSIVE these days.

How about asshats?

and a fine place to show off your new apres-climbing windshirt or leather vest.

p.s. "John Frieh", go fuck yourself you self-righteous prick. Pretty much everybody on this board knows who I am. I'm not anonymous (at least with this avatar).

Post deletion sucks.

welcome to teh suck! My commute takes 9 minutes on my bike. A guy I work with (at UW) commutes from Kent everyday via bus.

BLING BLING MUDDAFUGS!!!!

OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!

That collection of letters is not a word. Grammar/spelling police REPREZINT!

Sad, but probably true.

hello! I'm here! did ya'all like miss me and stuff?? I love you guys!! How was your weekends? Mine KICKED SERIOUS ASS!! toodles!! YEAH!!! Ready!?!? And gooooooo TEAM!

Once upon a time not so long ago: Tommy used to work on the docks union's been on strike He's down on his luck - It's tough so tough. Gina works the diner all day working for her man She brings home her pay for love for love. She says: We've got to hold on to what we've got 'Cause it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not. We've got each other and that's a lot for love - We'll give it a shot. We're half way there - Livin' on a prayer Take my hand and we'll make it I swear - livin' on a prayer. Tommy got his six string in hock. Now he's holding in what he used to make it talk - So tough it's tough. Gina dreams of running away when she cries in the night Tommy whispers: Baby it's okay someday. We've got to hold on to what we've got . . . We're half way there - Livin' on a prayer . . . We've got to hold on ready or not You live for the fight when it's all that you've got. We're half way there - Livin' on a prayer . . . We're half way there - Livin' on a prayer . . . We're half way there - Livin' on a prayer . . .

FUCK OFF GOD-BOY! Go pray for a sense of humor.

[To the tune of Battle Hymn of the Republic] Will it go around the chockstone, called the belayer looking up; Our hero feebly answered yes, and slowly inched on up; He was trying to drive a piton, when his foothold crumbled out; Oh he ain't gonna climb no more. Chorus: Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die; Gory, gory, it's a sport I'll never try; Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die! Oh they ain't gonna climb no more! The belayer felt the rope pull taut and tried to let it run; But it jerked him from position, and he knew his time had come; He left the ledge behind him as it shot up toward the sun. Oh they ain't gonna climb no more. chorus They slithered over the friction pitch, and passed the southern call; They had such a good exposure that it made a glorious fall; They tumbled through the chimney, and sped on down the wall; Oh they ain't gonna climb no more. chorus The days they lived and loved and laughed went running through their minds; They thought about the girls back home, the ones they left behind; They thought about the the ranger, too, and wondered what he'd find; Oh they ain't gonna climb no more. chorus One had the rope around his neck, and pitons through his spleen; An ice axe in his rucksack had split the other's bean; The trails of red marked their descent as they neared the slopes of green; Oh they ain't gonna climb no more. chorus They hit the ground, the sound was splat, the blood went spurting high; Their comrades were heard to say what a colorful way to die; As they lay there rolling in the welter of their gore; Oh they ain't gonna climb no more. chorus There was blood upon the rucksack, there were brains upon the rope; Intestines were intwined across the green and grassy slope; We picked them up in a lunchpale after salvaging the rope! Oh they ain't gonna climb no more! chorus

I am, like, so serious too. There are, like, totally hundreds of headstones with that inscription. TOTALLY!

Oh really?

Did you hear they are grid-bolting snoqualamie pass with 20ft long bolts! OMG!!!