Dr_Flash_Amazing

Right you are, man!

"Things went OK up through the second move, but I apparently got off route at the 'obvious gaston', and wound up on some grievous sloping crimps with bad footholds instead of the easy pockets that led to the finishing jug and topout. Chalking up and taking stock of the situation, it was clear that the moves were irreversible, and I was already nearly 4' off the deck. Given the relatively short approach, we had foolishly left the bivy gear back at the trailhead, nearly two minutes away. Dammit! Requesting that my spotter take some weight, I attempted a perilous traverse involving an undercling and the dreaded "Egyptian", followed by a tenuous deadpoint. I thought I was in the clear when a foot slipped off one of the grievously un-brushed off-route footholds, and I went plummeting to the crashpads hundreds of centimetres below. I had sustained a scrape to the left forearm, and a slightly bruised heel, adding a sense of urgency to our already thoroughly urgent situation (a lesser man might have called it desperate, but I am not a lesser man). The full gravity of the situation soon set in, however, as I would not be able to carry a crash pad back to the trailhead with my bruised heel, and attempting to hoist the chalk pot was chafing my scraped arm. Luckily, my partner bravely offered to shoulder both pads AND the chalk, and gave me the last of his Red Bull for the near-hundred yard hike back to the car. Of course, we weren't out of the woods yet, as even if we could make it to the car, medical attention was a good five minute drive away, and I was worried that my mangled forearm might bleed enough to stain my new Prana shirt (a rather natty khaki and sky blue number from the new Spring line). We plodded on to the trailhead and our car, and somehow made it out, despite taking nearly three minutes instead of the usual sub-two. I eased into the passenger's seat, gingerly resting my bruised heels on my 900-fill down jacket, and fished my cell phone out of the glove box. Our late retreat from that hulking citadel back in the forest had prompted some concern on the part of my mother, who had called in a panic, mentioning that she had made my favorite Chef Boyardee ravioli, and had bought me a Vanilla Coke which was now getting warm even as my ravioli was getting cold. Shit and dammit! Things were getting perilous and blah blah blah ..."

Fuck is this s'posed to mean? That's some kind of veiled insult, isn't it? Just what are you implying here, bubba?

Good riddance to the worst sort of rubbish. Dude talked more shit about not caring whether he got banned or not. Well ... adios, puto.

CHUPACABRA!

3/12

Here, why don't you shut the fuck up, log off this board, and don't come back. Mmkay? Toodles!

Hey! Quit wasting our taxpayer dollars fucking around on the internet, you two-bit Gomer Pyle motherfucker! Go clean your rifle and change the oil on your tank or something, dammit! GET TO WORK, SOLDIER!

Ah, yes, the gleaming double-standard: for a government that feels it is not making headway through peaceful channels, war (i.e. violence) is a perfectly acceptable alternative. War is hell, sure, and we don't want to do it, but it's for a good cause. However, if you've got beef with the government, best to just sit quietly and hope the police don't break any bones when they come in swinging their batons to send you home from your peaceful protest. You right-wingers oughta be proud of such a hardcore leftist for having the balls to suggest that violence might just be the answer. You happily shit-talk the peaceniks for not having the "courage" to actually do something, you bitch about them "whining" and tying up traffic. Well, now some of them are ready to go after it on your terms, with your cherished tactics. Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you? Bad boys, bad boys ...

17 days ...

Trask turns up in the strangest places sometimes!

It was the queerest thing. Trask woke up feeling perfectly gay after a night riding the ferry, so he stepped outside to smoke a fag, and as he stopped to sniff some pansies, he was saddened to see Miss Jones across the way throwing out a bunch of old underwear. "What a panty waste," Trask muttered to himself.

Iain, when you vomit up your stomach lining in about half an hour, take a picture for us, OK?

He's convinced that if you are not lefty (his secretly loved party) then you must be a hater and loather. It's stupid reasoning. Thankfully, we have your shining example of love and tolerance to show us all that love exists on the other side of the fence.

Get OUT!

Who the balls wants to climb a mossy-choss offwidth anyway?

yeah and it will be f'ing hilarious when he starts sending stuff the trad elite around here flail on between their constant tearings into sport climbing. See you at the crags, boys.

DFA is just marveling at your grasp of the latest trends in interior lighting, Martha. Now go back to sharpening your knives and polishing your guns, you little color-coordinated paramilitary freak.

Did you have a "crusty pup" for lunch? Or onion rings or fried Snickers bars? "Do the Puyallup!"

Nobody needs the beta for Chain Reaction lately, and there's nothing worth speculating about, and no worthwhile gossip to quell. It's the doldrums, dude, whaddaya want?

like south central Just heard on NPR on the way home yesterday aft'noon that they're renaming South Central to just plain South LA because of the negative connotations inherent in the old moniker. So South Central don't exist no more.

Lower Gorge! Mt. Bachy Village! Tick Ranch! Tumalo! Timmy's Supersecretlowballbouldergulchdeluxezone!