sobo

:lmao: :lmao: Classic!

Doubt it, when it comes to my daughter - she's a lemming. She'd see all of you wankers getting pissed and she'd end up being the one to do keg-stands. She's not even 3 yet, but she's sure as shit gonna drive me to an early grave, I tell ya!

Goddammit! Hits my daughter's 3rd birthday right square in the middle of the weekend. I'm out again this year.

OK, fair enough. I concede. Neutering does indeed remove the testes, which would make it somewhat more difficult to fuck. But that's not to say that I haven't seen neutered cats, dogs, and even rabbits going at it like they were teenagers. Some things you just never outgrow...

Hmmmmmm, Bug... You can still fuck if you're neutered; you're just shootin' blanks.

One lucky fucker. Well, two, actually...

That's called a siphon. It resurfaces somewhere else across a draw or gulley. If there's water in it, you'll never make it out the other side alive, guaranteed. No one ever does... Anybody here remember the four divers who got killed in the Roza Irrigation District siphon near Zillah about 10 years ago? The irrigation district hired two commercial SCUBA divers to go into a 12-foot diameter siphon to rig up a stolen car that was dumped in the canal and eventually ended up down in the bottom of the siphon. It needed to be fished out so normal flow could be restored in the canal. Anyway, at the bottom of the draw which the siphon traverses, they were effectively in a 100-foot open water dive. It didn't occur to them that would be the case when they went in, as they most likely were thinking that they were diving in only 12 feet of water, even as they continued down in elevation. Two rescue divers went in after them, forgetting the very same principle! They died, too. Tragic, yet entirely preventable. Stick around with the living for a little while longer, nova, and stay out of irrigation canals until you understand them better.

Mebbe, but not by the end of this weekend if he sees this thread...

Over 20 years ago, my first year climbing, I went with my partner (Frank Gibson, RIP) down to Stone Mountain, Georgia for some granite slab goodness over Thanksgiving Break. We climbed hard 5.9s and .10s all day on severely run-out slab. To access these routes, we had to solo a long 5.4-ish pitch to get to the main ledge. We had also gone all the way down to the ground several times that day to eat, get more water, and do other routes not accessible from the main ledge. So I had been up and down this 5.4 thingy many times that day... So the end of the day comes up, it's getting dark, and the ranger comes out to bullhorn us off the rock before they lock the gate. Frank quickly soloed down to the ground so he could move the car before the ranger locked us in for the night. That left me to coil up the ropes and get down alone. I told him that I would be just fine getting down alone, and to go ahead and hustle on down to move the rig. I was going to be a Big Boy and solo it just like Frank did. As it was still a little twilight, I wasn't too worried. I packed up all the shit, put the pack on, and turned to face the "easy" 5.4 downclimb. Now it was dark, and my nerves of steel started to turn to Jell-O as I started slipping on dried pine needles on holds, ball-bearing style grit under my shoes, and getting cold with only a t-shirt and shorts. I downclibed only about 20 or 30 feet, then froze. I was stuck: I couldn't go back up, and I didn't want to go down. Now the ranger comes back and starts bullhorning *me* personally. This wasn't helping any... I tried to move again, and started to slide... I thought that it was my time, and I had only been climbing since the school year began less than 3 months earlier. I slid about 6 to 8 feet, burning up my palms, when my foot snagged on a nubbin just big enough to be called a hold. I don't know how I stopped, but I wasn't going any further. I called out to Frank, who by now had walked back into the park and over to the meadow. Frank had me drop the pack, and he took out the rope, trailed it, and soloed up past me to the rap station above, and set the rope. I was then able to clip in and rap down uneventfully. Needless to say I got an earful from the ranger, and I learned that what appears easy on the way up in the sun and warmth may not be so easy in the cold and dark. It was a long time before I soloed anything again.

Five year old son! Thats great.....I can only wait until my boy is five. Miles is 10 months and growing. He wants to walk right now......but will have to wait to get the balance just right......soon I tell you. Soon. Do you have pictures of your children to share? As requested: Sobo's kids Last update was February 2006, so Nick was 3.5 and we had just returned home from China with Elaina, so she is anywhere between 14 and 16 months old in these pics. The wife has it on her To Do list to update the site with newer pics.

Well, there goes his popularity with the ladies... I dunno about that... How so? He's getting them removed... Now, if he happens to have huge feet, too... you might be right.

I'm assuming that you didn't get a wink of sleep after that comment... for either of two possible reasons...

Well, there goes his popularity with the ladies...

Yeah, he looks a lot happier here, though, for obvious reasons...

My 5 year old son just learned from the dentist that he'll be getting his two front permanent teeth in the next coupla months. Now I know why he screamed so bad whenever I tried to brush his teeth for him...

While working towards a degree in higher learning (yeah, right...) at VA Tech years ago, I was a member of VA Tech Cave Club (it's how I initially got into climbing). The VTCC had a "special committee" that was charged with determining which readily available concoctions were viable replacements for alcohol. Why, you ask, is this important? At the time (early 1980s), the Commonwealth of Virgina had decided that all alcohol sales would cease each night at midnight, and there were to be NO alcohol sales at all on Sundays. Being that we were VTCC members, and as such, none too keen on time-keeping, we necessarily needed to investigate "alternate sources" of libation in the event we didn't make it to the refueling depot before the stroke of twelve. Thus, the "special committee" known as the Drinking Techniques Committee, or DTC, was born. Some of the things we learned (and drank) that made "adequate" substitutes... Ny-Quil Listerine, Scope, etc. Any cough syrup containing trace amounts of alcohol Real vanilla extract I forget most of the others (most likely a long-term end result of my membership in VTCC), and many of the above no longer include alcohol in their make-up.

This, from the literature packaged with my avy beacon: "WARNING: Wearing this avalanche beacon will not prevent avalanches." Sumbuddy gimme a fucking break!

AlpineDave's piece on ice climbing gearmongery is worthy, too. Check it out!

Carpe' sodium.

It's still there. And it's still light out. Go for it!

Sheeeee-it, I knew that Noah bastard was a lying sack o' shit.

yes, it is.

I could hardly agree more. The thing that made the TN Bridge "go" is that it's being repaid with a $3.00 toll. I'd pay $3 to cross that bridge any day, and consider it money well-spent, not to mention a thrill. Fact is, most people shriek at the mention of "toll" when they're so used to driving for free. The National Defense Highway System (your interstate freeways) were both a blessing *and* a curse. So much mobility, but now the traveling public is spoiled by freeways.

YAAAAAAAY! Jeff's back!

Oh, I've been lurkin' around here. Changed jobs three months ago and had to "lay low" for awhile. I've been watching you, though, little lady...