tvashtarkatena

dirty martini with a twist...of bacon.

I'm concerned that my giant flying cat milk, cloned or not, is hormone free. Valid?

You couldn't kill that other thread if you dropped thermonuclear flying cats on it from space. It can't be killed. In fact, I fear that it is killing us.

This thread begs for a heavy aerially sprayed cocktail of DDT, dioxin, polonium, and used mounties polypro packed in a lawn bag and left in the direct sun for a week.

Mine wasn't even coal. It was charcoal. I'm actually not joking.

Hood kills. Don't even joke about not taking enough equipment up there.

When he created funk, James Brown invented the self-replicating sex machine.

It's a way to occupy your mouth when you're not calling Mom on the cell phone.

Post a nude photo and it will be.

Did you fix ropes? Its not really a climbing if you fix ropes. Climbing is being dumbed down, and you aren't really climbing if you use fixed ropes. No fixed ropes, but our equipment list included a snowcat, two six packs of Deschutes, a bong, and a one gallon propane tank. Definitely expedition style.

Uh...that was giving him credit.

I was on an expedition where we hauled a large crock pot, burner, and 2 gallons of oil to the summit of Hood, where we deep fried a small turkey and offered it to other climbers as they summited. Part of a 40th birthday party. Unfortunately, we ran into a semi conscious guy who'd been struck in the chest by a basketball sized rock, and had to call in a helicopter rescue. He did not want any turkey.

Taste-uh.......uh pee anuh

Not calling Mother may be the cause of most climbing accidents, but lack of Cognac is definitely the cause of most climbing dissatisfaction. That such pre-pubescence should gush forth from one in his late thirties is sobering indeed.

Cognac! I'm parched!

Have a swimmingly grand time, Soiled Harold.

He has elevated the sentence fragment to the ethereal relm of poety.

I say, could one of you good chaps help me up from this overstuffed chair so that I may refresh my cognac?

Would you like to hear my 1000th posting speach?

Every morning when I awaken, I thank the Lord my wife hasn't killed me in my sleep.

Hey Sarge, would a surge to lay siege on the insurgency with a sledge be sage, or would it prolong this trudge through the sludge?

I'm suing all of you fuckers to the tune of $25,000 per insult...then I'm going to buy my own planet.

I think the red flashing radio tower idea has some merit. It would be like a lighthouse; a beacon of safety to call wayward climbers home. Unlike the ocean, however, Mt. Hood isn't flat, so a system of giant mirrors strategically placed over the entire mountain would reflect the original powerful laser signal from the tower. Just follow the red dots. In near zero visibility, the tower could emit a loud chirping sound, similar to cross walks for the blind. Once the laser and sound system was installed, rock concerts could be staged at the Pearly Gates, with proceeds covering the cost of the system. I'm filing a patent.

Thanks for telling us how to climb mountains from 1000 miles away from the nearest hill. We appreciate your advice, and will reciprocate soon with a jam making safety manual.

Ah eat wit me gun, Ah sleep wit me gun, Ah even brush me teeth wit me gun