I got a present today...for no other reason than being a general purpose super-star.
I was told at the crag that there would be a present awaiting me at my car. that I'd like it. it was cute. when questioned about said present...I got nothing more than...
you'll see.
fortunately for the present-giver...I forgot about it or we would've had an ENTIRE day of tell-me-mores, give-me-a-hints, and what-do-you-MEAAAANNNN-you-can't-tell-mes. halfway through our fine, fine afternoon I gave a fellow boulderer a cheer a la let's go, noah. let's go...to wit the group responded en masse with a well-timed *clap, clap*
I hit 'em with a "go, team" and present-giver started snickering. again with the...you'll see.
nutz! I HAVE to know.
on the hike out, remembering the gift I psuedo-sprinted the last few yards (I'm lazy) to my car and found it...
VANDALIZED!
covered in grafitti hearts, "go team '07 RRocks Pitons!" (<---the jerk dog who bit me), doodles of snarling dogs con fangs of doom, for sale 20 dollar or trade for a dime bag, and my personal favorite:
SHORTY
across the rear window.
it was hilarious. unfortunately I got home after sunset so no piccy tonight...
and half of it smeared off when the back windows rolled down :(
either way it was good for a huge-ungo giggle.
thanks t-rav and christine. go team.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
amen.
I bouldered today. outside.
amen.
it was sunny and warm.
amen.
we had a "warning" storm letting us know we're alive...vulnerable.
amen.
worked hard on the rock. looked good (form-wise) doing it.
amen.
had a really good cup of soup and some caffeinated kid time. another good weekend in the bag.
you guessed it...amen.
amen.
it was sunny and warm.
amen.
we had a "warning" storm letting us know we're alive...vulnerable.
amen.
worked hard on the rock. looked good (form-wise) doing it.
amen.
had a really good cup of soup and some caffeinated kid time. another good weekend in the bag.
you guessed it...amen.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
holy high pollen index, batman.
I haven't suffered spring fever or environmental allergies for a couple of years.
yay.
then I got pnuemonia and well...that seems to have changed.
boo.
I'm sick...again. breathing is difficult and snot is plentiful. while it may be kinda sunny and pretty out there (at least right now)...I'm not buying it. it's deadly out there. those flowers...assasins, all of them. they're all double oh bud and shit to lure you in...then release their microscopic toxins DIRECTLY into your unsuspecting nostrils as your lame ass sighs "ahhh. they smell soooo fantastic".
sniff you no more, I will. I'm hitting the benadryl and my couch and you can all take your thinly veiled disguise-o-poison and kiss my lilly white ass.
your plentiful spring bounty doth not entice me...you can't get me out there.
If I want to look at flowers...I'll buy a better homes and gardens.
and while I'm there...I'll pick up some more Vicks.
yay.
then I got pnuemonia and well...that seems to have changed.
boo.
I'm sick...again. breathing is difficult and snot is plentiful. while it may be kinda sunny and pretty out there (at least right now)...I'm not buying it. it's deadly out there. those flowers...assasins, all of them. they're all double oh bud and shit to lure you in...then release their microscopic toxins DIRECTLY into your unsuspecting nostrils as your lame ass sighs "ahhh. they smell soooo fantastic".
sniff you no more, I will. I'm hitting the benadryl and my couch and you can all take your thinly veiled disguise-o-poison and kiss my lilly white ass.
your plentiful spring bounty doth not entice me...you can't get me out there.
If I want to look at flowers...I'll buy a better homes and gardens.
and while I'm there...I'll pick up some more Vicks.
Vicks rawks my socks
Thursday, April 26, 2007
bloom
my tree of indiscriminate origin (any ideas?) and a lone magnolia just hanging out.
my yard is pretty (fairly) pretty (nice looking) as of late...and I felt like sharing before all those gorgeous white petals fall on off the mother-tree (I think we'll just call it the suki-tree) giving us our three or four hours of spring snow (it's all very kung-fu movie-ish).
enjoy teh suki tree.
does this dog bite make my finger look fat???
very rarely have i been accused of being a nice lady. even rarer still are the times when I choose to label someone else as nice/neato/cool/really swell or nifty out loud. I usually keep that to myself.
I am, however, REALLY REALLY good at telling someone when their being a cock.
and today...I had to tell someone about their fucking dog.
the little psycho husky fucker is now about six months old...and just as much a domineering, loud mouthed, unpleasant piece of shit as the first time he snarled at me as a ten pound sack of fuzz. dood, I hate snitty dogs. I hate them even more when their destined to be sixty some pounder, snitty dogs. they're just too dangerous...and as far as I'm concerned serve no real purpose other than stroking their owners' egos.
so last night I reached for this little fuck's water bowl. I try ALL THE TIME to like this dog. I mean...that's what I do. I hold babies, pet dogs and pinch random asses. I've been trying to teach this d-bag some manners and made the move for his water bowl when the lil' waste of space bit me. he got my right hand and did a number on my pinky.
my first reaction was to kick him to haitii, but the little voice in my head that keeps me outta jail said "you can't kill tom's dog. you CAN'T kill tom's dog." so I walked away. at which point his momma told me "hit me."
game on. I put barky mcbitie pants in a dominant down (all the while he's trying to tear me up) and spent the next ten minutes avoiding bites and playing alpha female all over his ass. taking his water, blocking his path, holding him down by his throat and NOT attempting to squeeze the life out of him (I swear)...but no matter what you do to this cock sucking god forsaken bitch of a dog...he always gets back up and tries to assert himself.
any.where.else.i.would.have.killed.him.
I finally gave up on him, knowing that the only way to really get my point across would be to break a bone...and again not-going-to-jail-voiced-suki says that's a no-go.
my finger's been swollen and stiff. couldn't climb the rest of the night, which is reason enough right there to off this fleabag, and went home fully prepared for a night of tongue-biting, eye-rolling, trying to let it go.
'til today. I get a tug on the ponytail and hear "hey, I hear you were making my dog mad."
holy fucking shit. he really just said that.
me: yeah. look what the little asshole did to my hand.
him: suck it up
me: I hate him. he's too dominant. that's not cool in such a large animal
him: he has a problem with his food and water. that's I don't want people touching his stuff (ok. so this is where I got a little perturbed. a dog...any dog...around any human should NOT be the one in charge. ever. humans have thumbs. dogs don't. end of story)
me: (slathering on the sly tone) my dogs would allow a toddler to take a bone out of their mouths.
him: just don't make him mad
me: (seething. tongue biting. choosing words)
him: (turning back and walking away)
wow. just wow. I had a dog who bit once. ONCE. I loved that dog like..well, not like a child...but alot, yet after training, training, training, evaluation and more training (all leading to the conclusion that he might be dangerous) I put him down. H was a super obediant dog that just thought he was too cool for school and could put his mouth on a human. INTOLERABLE. he died on my lap and I cried for months. yet, I stand behind my decision. a loose canon pitbull is nothing but a headline waiting to happen...and yet more impetus for tens of thousands more to die.
as for this husky. he'll OBVIOUSLY never stop being a cock because his owner, instead of WORKING TO FIX HIS UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR...
defends it. if he won't train him ("he doesn't like when people touch his food"), won't let me train him...and I have to be near him...
he's getting a fucking kick.
I spent extra time tonight giving my dogs props...cause I walked right up to their bowls while they were eating and not only did they not flinch a muscle (or bite)...
my cookie spit the food IN HER MOUTH out into my hand.
as if to say: I love you, momma. you can have this food, too.
good girl. now go kill piton.
I am, however, REALLY REALLY good at telling someone when their being a cock.
and today...I had to tell someone about their fucking dog.
the little psycho husky fucker is now about six months old...and just as much a domineering, loud mouthed, unpleasant piece of shit as the first time he snarled at me as a ten pound sack of fuzz. dood, I hate snitty dogs. I hate them even more when their destined to be sixty some pounder, snitty dogs. they're just too dangerous...and as far as I'm concerned serve no real purpose other than stroking their owners' egos.
so last night I reached for this little fuck's water bowl. I try ALL THE TIME to like this dog. I mean...that's what I do. I hold babies, pet dogs and pinch random asses. I've been trying to teach this d-bag some manners and made the move for his water bowl when the lil' waste of space bit me. he got my right hand and did a number on my pinky.
my first reaction was to kick him to haitii, but the little voice in my head that keeps me outta jail said "you can't kill tom's dog. you CAN'T kill tom's dog." so I walked away. at which point his momma told me "hit me."
game on. I put barky mcbitie pants in a dominant down (all the while he's trying to tear me up) and spent the next ten minutes avoiding bites and playing alpha female all over his ass. taking his water, blocking his path, holding him down by his throat and NOT attempting to squeeze the life out of him (I swear)...but no matter what you do to this cock sucking god forsaken bitch of a dog...he always gets back up and tries to assert himself.
any.where.else.i.would.have.killed.him.
I finally gave up on him, knowing that the only way to really get my point across would be to break a bone...and again not-going-to-jail-voiced-suki says that's a no-go.
my finger's been swollen and stiff. couldn't climb the rest of the night, which is reason enough right there to off this fleabag, and went home fully prepared for a night of tongue-biting, eye-rolling, trying to let it go.
'til today. I get a tug on the ponytail and hear "hey, I hear you were making my dog mad."
holy fucking shit. he really just said that.
me: yeah. look what the little asshole did to my hand.
him: suck it up
me: I hate him. he's too dominant. that's not cool in such a large animal
him: he has a problem with his food and water. that's I don't want people touching his stuff (ok. so this is where I got a little perturbed. a dog...any dog...around any human should NOT be the one in charge. ever. humans have thumbs. dogs don't. end of story)
me: (slathering on the sly tone) my dogs would allow a toddler to take a bone out of their mouths.
him: just don't make him mad
me: (seething. tongue biting. choosing words)
him: (turning back and walking away)
wow. just wow. I had a dog who bit once. ONCE. I loved that dog like..well, not like a child...but alot, yet after training, training, training, evaluation and more training (all leading to the conclusion that he might be dangerous) I put him down. H was a super obediant dog that just thought he was too cool for school and could put his mouth on a human. INTOLERABLE. he died on my lap and I cried for months. yet, I stand behind my decision. a loose canon pitbull is nothing but a headline waiting to happen...and yet more impetus for tens of thousands more to die.
as for this husky. he'll OBVIOUSLY never stop being a cock because his owner, instead of WORKING TO FIX HIS UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR...
defends it. if he won't train him ("he doesn't like when people touch his food"), won't let me train him...and I have to be near him...
he's getting a fucking kick.
I spent extra time tonight giving my dogs props...cause I walked right up to their bowls while they were eating and not only did they not flinch a muscle (or bite)...
my cookie spit the food IN HER MOUTH out into my hand.
as if to say: I love you, momma. you can have this food, too.
good girl. now go kill piton.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
what yo name?
my attempt at teaching art today:
-came into classroom
-yelled at kids (yak)
-introduced myself
-yak
-yak
-explained that trees do NOT look like this----->
-yak, yak, yak
-took kids outside
-yak ^nth power
-brought kids in
-yak
-went to new classroom
rinse. repeat.
upon entering my last class of the day (that would be the SEVENTH bunch of monkeys I had to teach) I heard: yo, what yo name?
yeah, so we had a five minute lesson concerning the appropriate way to greet, introduce yourself to and say hello to someone. I made them all turn to their neighbors, stick out their grimy lil' paws and say:
"Hi, my name is (snotty lil kid name). And you are?"
then...I made them spend ten minutes cleaning up their classroom.
if I teach them ONE lesson during a (long, long) day...I'd like it to be something they can use to stay out of prison (ok. at least SOME of them, anyway)...and learning to not shout out
WHAT YO NAME, NIGGA???
might be just that.
fucking hoodlums (and by hoodlums...I'm, of course, referring to their stupid parents).
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
doggie love
I've got two overly anxious pitbulls who've spent the last 25 hours in enforced inactivity. these dogs are rammy, yo.
anyone volunteering to give them a walking for the suki? I've got a three pound hunk of marble birthday cake (sans icing balloons. I ate those) with your name all over it for the first taker.
I'm. just. so. dog-gone (ha). tired.
yesterday was chaos. got up early to reassamble the house after my three week yicky green painting debacle...and WINTER. then it was run around shop time for party supplies and latin fiesta dress (ole'). then it was kid home scrambling to do her hair time. followed by the trying to buy alcohol with no license, no cash and your husband's debit card episode (speaking of which...anyone seen my wallet, lately???). directly to la fiesta for an hour and a half of UTTERLY HORRID fifth and sixth grade psuedo-salsa, a rather large but well voi
ced boriqua and an uber hottie flamenco dancer chica (I finally figure out what I wanna be when I grow up by the way...hot). then rushing home for the surprise 30th for miss michaela - who we happened to see on the way home and conveniently "pick up." good looking out on the sneakitay on the walkitie, eben!
party time. about ten peeps were here when we showed up and she MIGHT have been surprised if I wasn't so god awful fucking shady, every light in the house wasn't on, the balloons were readily visible through the sunroom windows, and several guests' cars weren't parked out front. all in all I'd call success, though. I mean, come on...she didn't know until we got to the house and that's saying SOMETHING (right?). unfortunately I had just had too long a day to even enjoy the party...but I did enjoy the spinach dip and about two too many drinks.
ugh. I had to get up this morning to *gasp* teach, again.
art aint hard. so I survived the relatively light day with only a minimum of "oh-dear-lording" and visited with some former students. they're still ree's. I'm still glad I don't teach them anymore. and, as usual, they offered me the position til the end of the year.
art aint hard. I'll take it.
so there you have it...29 days remaining in the school year and I'll be spending most of them pushing an art cart through an elementary school peddling my no-talent teaching wares.
I'm thinking maybe I should get a bell...or a whistle...
or maybe a mace.
I settled on a summer clothes shopping spree with the fam, netting us all at least three outfits, some italian ice and yet another late night. rushed the hub home to work, the kid home to homework and me home to SIT ON MY EXHAUSTED ASS for a few minutes before bed. wait.
I have to pack a lunch. NUTZ!
which leads me again, to my dogs. I was intending to walk their sad selves after blogging...but it looks like now I'll be cooking at 11pm, instead.
argh. but at least...
art aint hard.
(and I have a pretty new dress to wear tomorrow...assuming the dogs don't eat it)
anyone volunteering to give them a walking for the suki? I've got a three pound hunk of marble birthday cake (sans icing balloons. I ate those) with your name all over it for the first taker.
I'm. just. so. dog-gone (ha). tired.
yesterday was chaos. got up early to reassamble the house after my three week yicky green painting debacle...and WINTER. then it was run around shop time for party supplies and latin fiesta dress (ole'). then it was kid home scrambling to do her hair time. followed by the trying to buy alcohol with no license, no cash and your husband's debit card episode (speaking of which...anyone seen my wallet, lately???). directly to la fiesta for an hour and a half of UTTERLY HORRID fifth and sixth grade psuedo-salsa, a rather large but well voi
ced boriqua and an uber hottie flamenco dancer chica (I finally figure out what I wanna be when I grow up by the way...hot). then rushing home for the surprise 30th for miss michaela - who we happened to see on the way home and conveniently "pick up." good looking out on the sneakitay on the walkitie, eben!party time. about ten peeps were here when we showed up and she MIGHT have been surprised if I wasn't so god awful fucking shady, every light in the house wasn't on, the balloons were readily visible through the sunroom windows, and several guests' cars weren't parked out front. all in all I'd call success, though. I mean, come on...she didn't know until we got to the house and that's saying SOMETHING (right?). unfortunately I had just had too long a day to even enjoy the party...but I did enjoy the spinach dip and about two too many drinks.
ugh. I had to get up this morning to *gasp* teach, again.
art aint hard. so I survived the relatively light day with only a minimum of "oh-dear-lording" and visited with some former students. they're still ree's. I'm still glad I don't teach them anymore. and, as usual, they offered me the position til the end of the year.
art aint hard. I'll take it.
so there you have it...29 days remaining in the school year and I'll be spending most of them pushing an art cart through an elementary school peddling my no-talent teaching wares.
I'm thinking maybe I should get a bell...or a whistle...
or maybe a mace.
I settled on a summer clothes shopping spree with the fam, netting us all at least three outfits, some italian ice and yet another late night. rushed the hub home to work, the kid home to homework and me home to SIT ON MY EXHAUSTED ASS for a few minutes before bed. wait.
I have to pack a lunch. NUTZ!
which leads me again, to my dogs. I was intending to walk their sad selves after blogging...but it looks like now I'll be cooking at 11pm, instead.
argh. but at least...
art aint hard.
(and I have a pretty new dress to wear tomorrow...assuming the dogs don't eat it)
Sunday, April 22, 2007
I'm baaaaaaack.
I bouldered for a total of three and half minutes today. it kicked my hiney hardcore, made me sweat like a chump, had my heart pounding like someone found my stash (of CHOCOLATE you gutter-heads) and felt oh. so. good.
after attempting to send a couple of the new problems (in denim capris, a baby-doll top, and someone else's shoes-it was a sneak attack. the wall just snuck right up on me), I fell out on a mat, took a little breather and thanked god my lungs didn't explode.
I can climb.
sorta...
but its a start.
in other news I finally put that second coat of what-the-fiznuck-was-i-thinking green on the sunroom today. I was pretty whooped, coughin and a little drunk...so I'm hoping it doesn't look like total ass in the morning...but would probably get a good laugh out of it if it did.
I mean, come on...it's froot loop green...how can it possibly look right? my poor little very traditionally styled house chock full of auction found antiques is getting a little worried. it saw the "americana" swatch I have picked out for the living room.
I'll bet dollars to pesos I wake up tomorrow and something's broken as a retaliatory strike.
I just hope it isn't the fridge.
t'would be a shame to lose the ketchup and mustard. at this point, they're the only thing left edible in the house.
after attempting to send a couple of the new problems (in denim capris, a baby-doll top, and someone else's shoes-it was a sneak attack. the wall just snuck right up on me), I fell out on a mat, took a little breather and thanked god my lungs didn't explode.
I can climb.
sorta...
but its a start.
in other news I finally put that second coat of what-the-fiznuck-was-i-thinking green on the sunroom today. I was pretty whooped, coughin and a little drunk...so I'm hoping it doesn't look like total ass in the morning...but would probably get a good laugh out of it if it did.
I mean, come on...it's froot loop green...how can it possibly look right? my poor little very traditionally styled house chock full of auction found antiques is getting a little worried. it saw the "americana" swatch I have picked out for the living room.
I'll bet dollars to pesos I wake up tomorrow and something's broken as a retaliatory strike.
I just hope it isn't the fridge.
t'would be a shame to lose the ketchup and mustard. at this point, they're the only thing left edible in the house.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
republicans hate me
that was going to be my lil' subtitle-ma-jiggy initially. I just remembered that randomly this evening while scrubbing my kitchen cabinets. they're white. all of them. all 30 something-ish of them.
yeah, I hate republican political views....and white cabinetry.
today was a breakthrough day in bed-ridden-ness. I finally wasn't. I've been gradually increasing my activity level and spent all but the tiniest of sneak attack afternoon naps out of not only bed...but THE HOUSE today. go, me. go, me. go *cough* me.
I checked out a bit of that climbing comp I wanted to compete in today (I aint mad. what makes you think I'm mad?). It was crazy skilled youth climber central. these kids...three gazillion of them...rocked (ok, not rock...more like plastic holded?) out. they were knee high to a grasshopper (yes, I just said that. my god) and sending 1200+ pointers on lead. I looked around for any signs of a real live woman over the age of 18 who might've been in my division...and only managed to find two or so. and from what I saw of their climbs...
I'm really mad I got sick. if my physical *ouch my lungs hurt* and mental games were on-point...I'm thinking I would've done fairly well. and THAT is about as self-promoting as I'll get, here. I learned the humility lesson when asked "so what's your on-sight?"
I answered "in here? 11b-ish" then promptly gott beaten to a pulp by an 8. must've been an 8d, yo.
in non-climbing news (since I haven't done it for over a week)...I had one of McDonald's new southwest salads. while I've been a big fan of the wendy's southwest taco salad (it's not fast food if it has "salad" in the name)...I gotta give the Micky some credit for this little invention. it has an actual slice of lime in it. not just lime...they give you what appears to be grilled corn, as well. actual fruit and veggie action on your mound of ice-berg lettuce with a token spinach leaf.
they's'a trying. now if only it didn't come out of the drive-through window smelling like fry grease and have three interloping chocolate chip cookies tagging along (how'd THEY get in there???)...it might've made a fairly healthy meal. well...
if I didn't order the chicken crispy, that is.
whatev. leave me alone. deep fried processed chicken feet make me feel better. and you all want me to FEEL BETTER, right?
speaking of feel better...
I've still got one of those cookies hanging out here, somewhere...
yeah, I hate republican political views....and white cabinetry.
today was a breakthrough day in bed-ridden-ness. I finally wasn't. I've been gradually increasing my activity level and spent all but the tiniest of sneak attack afternoon naps out of not only bed...but THE HOUSE today. go, me. go, me. go *cough* me.
I checked out a bit of that climbing comp I wanted to compete in today (I aint mad. what makes you think I'm mad?). It was crazy skilled youth climber central. these kids...three gazillion of them...rocked (ok, not rock...more like plastic holded?) out. they were knee high to a grasshopper (yes, I just said that. my god) and sending 1200+ pointers on lead. I looked around for any signs of a real live woman over the age of 18 who might've been in my division...and only managed to find two or so. and from what I saw of their climbs...
I'm really mad I got sick. if my physical *ouch my lungs hurt* and mental games were on-point...I'm thinking I would've done fairly well. and THAT is about as self-promoting as I'll get, here. I learned the humility lesson when asked "so what's your on-sight?"
I answered "in here? 11b-ish" then promptly gott beaten to a pulp by an 8. must've been an 8d, yo.
in non-climbing news (since I haven't done it for over a week)...I had one of McDonald's new southwest salads. while I've been a big fan of the wendy's southwest taco salad (it's not fast food if it has "salad" in the name)...I gotta give the Micky some credit for this little invention. it has an actual slice of lime in it. not just lime...they give you what appears to be grilled corn, as well. actual fruit and veggie action on your mound of ice-berg lettuce with a token spinach leaf.
they's'a trying. now if only it didn't come out of the drive-through window smelling like fry grease and have three interloping chocolate chip cookies tagging along (how'd THEY get in there???)...it might've made a fairly healthy meal. well...
if I didn't order the chicken crispy, that is.
whatev. leave me alone. deep fried processed chicken feet make me feel better. and you all want me to FEEL BETTER, right?
speaking of feel better...
I've still got one of those cookies hanging out here, somewhere...
Friday, April 20, 2007
78 and sunny
yeah. it's gonna suck hardcore.
first truly gorgeous weekend of the season and I have to force myself not to climb...I'm just not ready, yet.
a big group are going bouldering out at johnstown...another crew is hitting the gunks...we've got the day climbers scrambling about just about everywhere...
and I'll be knitting, crying and consoling myself with the choccy.
keep telling myself...
this'll all be over soon.
:)
first truly gorgeous weekend of the season and I have to force myself not to climb...I'm just not ready, yet.
a big group are going bouldering out at johnstown...another crew is hitting the gunks...we've got the day climbers scrambling about just about everywhere...
and I'll be knitting, crying and consoling myself with the choccy.
keep telling myself...
this'll all be over soon.
:)
Thursday, April 19, 2007
holy crotch shot(s).
this picture made me giggle...in between gags.
apparently this is how Montrail views the female bouldering demographic.
as spread eagle, pubic mound showing, 'do the dew' chics.
I object.
I prefer my martini sans lactic acid. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
rocking the pharmacy
I'd like to ammend my recent 'shout out' post...
and add these little guys:
while they cause diarrhea, liver dysfunction and nuerological maladies (like I'd notice that?)...
they're steadfast and true companions in the fight for my lungspace.
I've been awake and relatively mobile (anyone need an almost full box of adult diapers?) for AT LEAST two hours, now.
which is cool...cause I do my best trolling at night.
while I'll admit this war isn't over yet...I see victory on the horizon.
that's right, you little bastages...
where you going?
NOWHERE.
and add these little guys:
while they cause diarrhea, liver dysfunction and nuerological maladies (like I'd notice that?)...
they're steadfast and true companions in the fight for my lungspace.
I've been awake and relatively mobile (anyone need an almost full box of adult diapers?) for AT LEAST two hours, now.
which is cool...cause I do my best trolling at night.
while I'll admit this war isn't over yet...I see victory on the horizon.
that's right, you little bastages...
where you going?
NOWHERE.
Suki v. Streptococcus pneumoniae
die, mo'fickers. die
its death match time.
*ding*
all right you, mo'fickers. I've had enough. get out of my goddamned lungs. take your little unwanted, trespassing, opportunistic, parasitic asses elsewhere. I kinda like breathing.
you've already won a round with me, by sneaking your funky biznitch asses in in the first place...and even scored another major coup by forcing me to take antibiotics. but I've got your number now, you chode ass punks.
I see your little rally action. making your last stand. commendable...but ill-advised. making me angry (even in a weakened state) is not a good call. I'm going to wipe the floor with you, you wart-hog-faced baffoons. suki don't play dat.
so consider this your last warning. leave now or die a horrid immuno-induced death at my hands. I'm focusing my chi, centering my energies and seeking you out.
I'm tired of feeling like ass...
and its time for me to end this.
bitches.
Monday, April 16, 2007
shout out
to patty for watching the kid, calling to check on me and bringing me drugs (repeatedly).
the hub for the EXTRA large chocolate bar I'm already half-way through.
and my dogs for keeping my feet warm.
also of interest. a photo of me with red hair...wearing my ever-present adidas hoodie.
"your body will let you know"
been feeling pooey. kinda cranky. climbing below peak. suspecting pregnancy (nooooooooooo!) or any other yick inducing condition...and have been just plain blah.
until sunday morning when it escalated to full-blown oh-dear-lord-what-has-invaded-my-body??? woke up at six am feeling coughy and scratchy. by noon I was whooped. by six pm I barely had a voice and by ten I was in the ER owing to a short-lived by hardcore allergy reaction to an herbal throat spray. couldn't breathe. thought I was gonna die.
8 hours, a negative pregnancy test *does happy dance* and a set of chest x-rays later I was told I have 'the' pnuemonia and need to take this pill. pill handed to me. no food or tylenol in about ten hours. slightly oxygen deprived...I take it with only minor hesitation.
me: I hate antibiotics.
doctor: I know. Now, take it.
I was also told that competing this weekend was "inadvisable" and that I'd need to take it easy "for a few." when asked to clarify what precisely "a few" meant, I was told that my body would let me know what level of activity was appropriate.
ha. fucking. ha, douchebag. you OBVIOUSLY don't know the suki very well. how many humans on earth end up in the ER one night with pneumonia having ZERO clue that they were even sick to begin with. he was all "have you been sick?" I was all "nopers. just hit me outta nowhere this morning" he was all "yeah. whatev"
pnuemonia is a process. you don't just 'catch' it. some other little nasty snakes its way into your system, sets up shop, and when good and comfy makes the money move to your lungs.
sheet. I'm so dense when it comes to taking care of myself that I completely missed the signs of something sinister coming (like passing out at the crag last sunday (and the wednesday before that), feeling like worm food for several weeks prior, and oh...I don't know...JUST BEING WEAK AND SICK).
so when homeskillet isn't willing to offer me a DEFINITE time frame for required rest...I get a little nervous. I suck at self-regulating and am willing to bet thirteen pesos and a stick of bubble gum that I'm saying I'm all healed up and doing more damage before I know what hits me.
moderation, matty says. I'll try to keep those words echoing through my dome in the weeks to come.
what might make the total rest phenom a bit easier is that the ER douche put me on a gorilla-cillin type antiobiotic that is, get this...
linked to tendon rupture.
my god, man. what WERE you thinking? I'm a rock-climbing, tendon-abusing fool. switching antiobiotics is POSSIBLE, but not a good call (monster bug, anyone?)...
so I'll stay the course and keep the fingies safe by avoiding my one (non-sexual) physical passion...
and eating lots of chocolate.
thank you, doctor I-don't-give-a-fudge for effing up my training...
and making me fat.
until sunday morning when it escalated to full-blown oh-dear-lord-what-has-invaded-my-body??? woke up at six am feeling coughy and scratchy. by noon I was whooped. by six pm I barely had a voice and by ten I was in the ER owing to a short-lived by hardcore allergy reaction to an herbal throat spray. couldn't breathe. thought I was gonna die.
8 hours, a negative pregnancy test *does happy dance* and a set of chest x-rays later I was told I have 'the' pnuemonia and need to take this pill. pill handed to me. no food or tylenol in about ten hours. slightly oxygen deprived...I take it with only minor hesitation.
me: I hate antibiotics.
doctor: I know. Now, take it.
I was also told that competing this weekend was "inadvisable" and that I'd need to take it easy "for a few." when asked to clarify what precisely "a few" meant, I was told that my body would let me know what level of activity was appropriate.
ha. fucking. ha, douchebag. you OBVIOUSLY don't know the suki very well. how many humans on earth end up in the ER one night with pneumonia having ZERO clue that they were even sick to begin with. he was all "have you been sick?" I was all "nopers. just hit me outta nowhere this morning" he was all "yeah. whatev"
pnuemonia is a process. you don't just 'catch' it. some other little nasty snakes its way into your system, sets up shop, and when good and comfy makes the money move to your lungs.
sheet. I'm so dense when it comes to taking care of myself that I completely missed the signs of something sinister coming (like passing out at the crag last sunday (and the wednesday before that), feeling like worm food for several weeks prior, and oh...I don't know...JUST BEING WEAK AND SICK).
so when homeskillet isn't willing to offer me a DEFINITE time frame for required rest...I get a little nervous. I suck at self-regulating and am willing to bet thirteen pesos and a stick of bubble gum that I'm saying I'm all healed up and doing more damage before I know what hits me.
moderation, matty says. I'll try to keep those words echoing through my dome in the weeks to come.
what might make the total rest phenom a bit easier is that the ER douche put me on a gorilla-cillin type antiobiotic that is, get this...
linked to tendon rupture.
my god, man. what WERE you thinking? I'm a rock-climbing, tendon-abusing fool. switching antiobiotics is POSSIBLE, but not a good call (monster bug, anyone?)...
so I'll stay the course and keep the fingies safe by avoiding my one (non-sexual) physical passion...
and eating lots of chocolate.
thank you, doctor I-don't-give-a-fudge for effing up my training...
and making me fat.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
divorce
I'm sitting here just minding my own business (read: trolling for tranny porn. I mean...COME ON who doesn't enjoy a little meatspin?) when I hear the hub start to tinkle.
then I hear him continuing to tinkle.
and he's going...
and going...and three minutes later I figure I better go check to make sure he's not bleeding out or something else bathroom related and rather sinister...
only to find him in a no-hands pee stance BRUSHING HIS TEETH.
so I'm filing for divorce first thing monday morning. I'll be accepting applications for a new husband starting...
now.
all applicants must be in good health, extraordinarily patient every fourth week, and sign the following waiver.
I (insert name),
hereby acknowledge that by submitting my application for husband du jour I am hereby waiving any and all rights, personal property and much beloved freedoms. I am also acknowledging that Teh Suki will not be required to complete more than one of the following tasks on any given day:
1. cooking
2. cleaning
3. work
4. givin' up da 'nonni
upon submission of my application I forfeit my right to further manhood...
and agree to buy the JUMBO box of tampons.
x_________________
then I hear him continuing to tinkle.
and he's going...
and going...and three minutes later I figure I better go check to make sure he's not bleeding out or something else bathroom related and rather sinister...
only to find him in a no-hands pee stance BRUSHING HIS TEETH.
so I'm filing for divorce first thing monday morning. I'll be accepting applications for a new husband starting...
now.
all applicants must be in good health, extraordinarily patient every fourth week, and sign the following waiver.
I (insert name),
hereby acknowledge that by submitting my application for husband du jour I am hereby waiving any and all rights, personal property and much beloved freedoms. I am also acknowledging that Teh Suki will not be required to complete more than one of the following tasks on any given day:
1. cooking
2. cleaning
3. work
4. givin' up da 'nonni
upon submission of my application I forfeit my right to further manhood...
and agree to buy the JUMBO box of tampons.
x_________________
Thursday, April 12, 2007
today sucks...but a little less.
dreary days are known for sucking monkey balls. we know this. add to the general monkey balled-ness of this weather the fact that I'm nursing a crisis, and its no surprise to me that I gave in to my one steadfast concession to depression.
I busted out the knee brace. I have a closetful, and today, in giving in to this funk o' mine (ie. ACCEPTING the ever-present pain in the knee as opposed to my usual approach of 'what knee?") I reached into the closet, grabbed the first durable medical device (insurance term. I'm telling you...I have ALOT of these things) that the very tippy tip of my fingers could reach...and strapped that puppy on.
now I'm limping...and somehow that makes me feel better. I'm also feeling better because I KNOW what's funking me up. I've recognized as my long-time nemesis and at least don't have the uncertainty of "why do I feel so darn pooey, anyway?" career and I have not been buds. I've worked a total of 9 full time months in my entire life...and hated every one of them.
part of it is me (I suck at conforming). part of it is me being a mother. its hard to build a career on part-time work with summers off, but I know my priority. the kid. she may very well be my only one and I intend not to miss a single moment unnecessarily...like for something as seemingly insignificant as...oh, say...a livelihood. *gasp. choke. cough*
so while I didn't do myself any favors today reading a love story (bad move. bad, bad move)...I did myself right by cooking a good healthy(ish) meal. eating til my belly hurt of food NOT purchased already prepared and glancing through the pics yet to be uploaded from my camera.
where I found these lil' gems:
the monkey on the right is turning 18 today. when she first came into my life she was no older than my daughter now. a pumpkin. a peanut. a tiny little shnook. and then it hit me...
while I may feel almost worthless in the world of productive career oriented adults...I did good by these kids. I've done at least SOMETHING right. how lucky am I, at my age, to have an 18 year old "daughter" ready to go off to college, so full of potential, so completely awesome that I can't stand it? dood...that alone is worth being broke, dependant and misguided. dev, alanna and bayl alone would be worth working the meat slicer at arby's.
so I've accepted that I won't be making the who's who list of young entrepreneurs (like thats the first who's who list I haven't made! hahahaha) and we won't be taking that three week vacation abroad I would've liked...I don't have to kill myself about being a perpetual under-achiever...
at least not for another couple of years, anyway.
I should also add: as karma would have it, while I'm soul searching trying to figure out what I WANT to do...I decided two things. I need to stop eating like a pig out of self-pity, and I really like climbing (which leads me to a bouldering comp I'm going to register for, but that's another blog).
as if on cue...I got a phone call to help out at our local gym next weekend. ok. I'll do it...and another phone call to start working at another gym.
the pay is poo, but the stress is low...and its certainly not a 'career' move, but it gets me out of the house and my own head...and maybe I'll get to play with some kids.
I am...how you say??? not so happy.
3am. wide awake. reeking of smoke...
no clue what to do with myself. I just finished watching a love story (bad move. bad, bad move) and have that slightly unsettled feeling that crying in front of an electronic device tends to leave one.
so there's that. and...
ME HAVING ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE.
I "quit" my job, as much as a sub can quit, a wee bit more than half a day ago...and can honestly say that I'd be quite satisfied living out the rest of my natural life without ever teaching another day. it effs up my chi. particularly in this rathole of a district.
I did myself a favor today. I escaped. I started this blog at the advice of a friend who wanted me to chronicle my debacles (ha! say that out loud) in teaching...but haven't been able to find the reserve of inner...something...to actually do so. too difficult. those stories...and the retelling of them has quite literally WORN. ME. DOWN.
I teach. scratch that. TAUGHT special ed. kids in need and I'm right there to help. took me a few months to realize, though...
i was no help. how shit-damn-awful a realization is that? KNOWING. finally coming to realize that something you're supposed to be good at. something that you do better than most...something you were trained to do..results in your efforts amounting to nothing.
nothing but you crying in your car for hours after work everyday and bruised shins (they bite. occassionally kick, as well).
I went back and visited my emotional support (read: super duper messed up kids who break your heart because you KNOW their chances are slim) kadiddles today. restrained one during a tantrum. got a headbutt to the ear, a bite to the fist...and quit.
quit. quit. quit.
I can't do it anymore. I took a week off in hopes of recovering some calm. cool. ability. and found none. too soon? maybe. too late? most likely.
so I'm left with:
a. feeling like a shitheel for walking out on "my" kids...whether I've met them yet or not
b. zero idea what I actually AM good at
c. blood letting from my ear and hepatitis (ok. maybe not) from my bitewound.
jesus fucking christ...
I never should've dropped out of med school.
no clue what to do with myself. I just finished watching a love story (bad move. bad, bad move) and have that slightly unsettled feeling that crying in front of an electronic device tends to leave one.
so there's that. and...
ME HAVING ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE.
I "quit" my job, as much as a sub can quit, a wee bit more than half a day ago...and can honestly say that I'd be quite satisfied living out the rest of my natural life without ever teaching another day. it effs up my chi. particularly in this rathole of a district.
I did myself a favor today. I escaped. I started this blog at the advice of a friend who wanted me to chronicle my debacles (ha! say that out loud) in teaching...but haven't been able to find the reserve of inner...something...to actually do so. too difficult. those stories...and the retelling of them has quite literally WORN. ME. DOWN.
I teach. scratch that. TAUGHT special ed. kids in need and I'm right there to help. took me a few months to realize, though...
i was no help. how shit-damn-awful a realization is that? KNOWING. finally coming to realize that something you're supposed to be good at. something that you do better than most...something you were trained to do..results in your efforts amounting to nothing.
nothing but you crying in your car for hours after work everyday and bruised shins (they bite. occassionally kick, as well).
I went back and visited my emotional support (read: super duper messed up kids who break your heart because you KNOW their chances are slim) kadiddles today. restrained one during a tantrum. got a headbutt to the ear, a bite to the fist...and quit.
quit. quit. quit.
I can't do it anymore. I took a week off in hopes of recovering some calm. cool. ability. and found none. too soon? maybe. too late? most likely.
so I'm left with:
a. feeling like a shitheel for walking out on "my" kids...whether I've met them yet or not
b. zero idea what I actually AM good at
c. blood letting from my ear and hepatitis (ok. maybe not) from my bitewound.
jesus fucking christ...
I never should've dropped out of med school.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
so who doesn't want to climb in a blizzard?
all told the weekend rocked. cold as panda balls, but the company was high quality, the scenery spectacular and the intentions good. had some mondo good (WARM) breakfasts a la Cathedral style. got my lead on (did my first 'big girl' 9). figured out the finer points of the beer belay (no climbers were injured in the making of this blog). met a gazillion dogs, only one of which was dead...and got some great shots.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
this day...not as lovely.
woke up in a sitch similar to this this morning:
difference is...this site has its own rock :(
we're off to search for some dry stone to dangle from.
wish us luck.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
it's gonna be a lovely daaaaaay...
woke up here:
with snow on the tent this morning.
yeah, it's gonna be a lovely day.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
thats what blogs are for
this is a place for me to express myself, right? a place I lead my friends/family/others of interest to to learn more about me. a place to put my thing down and get shit off my chest.
so where do I go when I need to get some shit off my chest about them?
I gave it all of three seconds of thought before realizing...that place is right here. the people who I've led here to share this with me...have to take me as I am (this will become a running theme, you'll see); flaws, opinions, arrogance and all.
tonight I felt ambushed. attacked. ferhoodled and kerputzed. I felt like my friends had it in for me. I didn't like it all. I was accused of lacking humility, attacked for my lifestyle (YOU don't have to work full time), and generally treated as someone who's unstable and isn't capable of making smart choices. again with the I didn't like it all.
as with most anything in life that upsets me, I went to insta-introspection trying to figure out what it is about the way that I act that led to something like this going down. what is it about the nature of my relationships that puts me into positions like this. why do I get nagged en masse until I want to cry?
and I think I've got it.
I care too much what others think. I'm needy. I want their support and in soliciting it...I lose footing as a competent adult. add to that my typical cavalier nature (trust me guys. I stress, too. I just don't do it like you do, maybe) and I come off as an arrogant know-it-all who doesn't give a shit what the world things is proper.
from now on that assessment'll be right on one count:
I love you guys, but I think it's time for me stop giving a shit (or at least start giving a smaller one). I've got to be more independent...in so many ways its almost unthinkable.
I'll still ask for your advice when I need it (and that'll still be quite often), and I'll still do my best to respect it...
but I'm going to have to focus on being more independent. more of a loner (that thought alone makes me cry, again. this is going to be a long ride). less reliant on others' opinions. I remember a day when I told the world to kiss my ass and made shit happen...
I think its time for me to pony up and make shit happen again.
so where do I go when I need to get some shit off my chest about them?
I gave it all of three seconds of thought before realizing...that place is right here. the people who I've led here to share this with me...have to take me as I am (this will become a running theme, you'll see); flaws, opinions, arrogance and all.
tonight I felt ambushed. attacked. ferhoodled and kerputzed. I felt like my friends had it in for me. I didn't like it all. I was accused of lacking humility, attacked for my lifestyle (YOU don't have to work full time), and generally treated as someone who's unstable and isn't capable of making smart choices. again with the I didn't like it all.
as with most anything in life that upsets me, I went to insta-introspection trying to figure out what it is about the way that I act that led to something like this going down. what is it about the nature of my relationships that puts me into positions like this. why do I get nagged en masse until I want to cry?
and I think I've got it.
I care too much what others think. I'm needy. I want their support and in soliciting it...I lose footing as a competent adult. add to that my typical cavalier nature (trust me guys. I stress, too. I just don't do it like you do, maybe) and I come off as an arrogant know-it-all who doesn't give a shit what the world things is proper.
from now on that assessment'll be right on one count:
I love you guys, but I think it's time for me stop giving a shit (or at least start giving a smaller one). I've got to be more independent...in so many ways its almost unthinkable.
I'll still ask for your advice when I need it (and that'll still be quite often), and I'll still do my best to respect it...
but I'm going to have to focus on being more independent. more of a loner (that thought alone makes me cry, again. this is going to be a long ride). less reliant on others' opinions. I remember a day when I told the world to kiss my ass and made shit happen...
I think its time for me to pony up and make shit happen again.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
bad idea
today...I decided to go for a bike ride. not a ride like all you real-live cyclists ride. you know, with a team, helmets, handy dandy ass padded skin suits (I gotta get me one of those, for real), and well...talent. instead I rode this:
there are no words, really...
this being my 11 year olds 21 speed (who rocks the hardest?) still decorated for last 4th of July's parade ride. oh, yeah. I'm chilling.
I hop on this biznitch thinking "I can do this. They say you never forget, right?"
right. I could still ride. just...not very well.
Instantly I realized two things:
1. this tiara up my ass is no fun
2. I really need to learn how to operate the tire pump
within another 13 1/2 minutes I realize several other things:
-"off-roading" doesn't mean sidewalks
-this tiara up my ass is still no fun
-nifty as this little violet beast is...I need a bike of my very own
-this is a bad idea.
I've got four days of hella hiking coming up for a climbing trip and I'm thinking my squishy climber's legs aren't really digging this brand new sensation. the sensation being pain. my quads told me to go fuck myself...which I did...
by riding another forty minutes.
all told I spend ONE WHOLE hour (yeah. I still rock the hardest) with this internal dialogue:
self 1: dood. stop being a pussy. go for the hill.
self 2: um...es'cuse me! don't be a dumbass. sore quads make for shitty climbing. you DO remember kaymoor mines, don't you?
self 1: seriously. you're being a pussy.
et cetera.
in the end I opted for the hill (and by hill I mean an acorn MIGHT roll down it given a good hearty shove), only had to stop once to near-vomit, and worked the mess outta granny gear.
When I got home, I gave my lazy legs a good twenty minute stretching, ate a Hershey bar with almonds, and called my aunt to hook me up with a big girl bike and some trail riding for pussies lessons.
feels sooo good.
I hop on this biznitch thinking "I can do this. They say you never forget, right?"
right. I could still ride. just...not very well.
Instantly I realized two things:
1. this tiara up my ass is no fun
2. I really need to learn how to operate the tire pump
within another 13 1/2 minutes I realize several other things:
-"off-roading" doesn't mean sidewalks
-this tiara up my ass is still no fun
-nifty as this little violet beast is...I need a bike of my very own
-this is a bad idea.
I've got four days of hella hiking coming up for a climbing trip and I'm thinking my squishy climber's legs aren't really digging this brand new sensation. the sensation being pain. my quads told me to go fuck myself...which I did...
by riding another forty minutes.
all told I spend ONE WHOLE hour (yeah. I still rock the hardest) with this internal dialogue:
self 1: dood. stop being a pussy. go for the hill.
self 2: um...es'cuse me! don't be a dumbass. sore quads make for shitty climbing. you DO remember kaymoor mines, don't you?
self 1: seriously. you're being a pussy.
et cetera.
in the end I opted for the hill (and by hill I mean an acorn MIGHT roll down it given a good hearty shove), only had to stop once to near-vomit, and worked the mess outta granny gear.
When I got home, I gave my lazy legs a good twenty minute stretching, ate a Hershey bar with almonds, and called my aunt to hook me up with a big girl bike and some trail riding for pussies lessons.
feels sooo good.
Monday, April 2, 2007
dipper, anyone?
what I got upon googling "big scary truck" ------>
I'm lazy, a bit disorganized and hate homework, so when the kid pointed out tonight that her pesky little astronomy project STILL needs to be paid attention to...
I snarled. See, the plan was for said star gazing to be accomplished during our down time in West Virginny on a climbing trip and NOT during my its-after-nine-pm-mommy-only-time. BUT...since the kid is no longer accompanying me on the camping trip...a mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do.
Post snarl, I hit her with "Ok. It's a nice night. Get dressed warm. We're going star hunting," and immediately regretted saying it. Dude...it's warm bath and Men's Health time (no. I do NOT read it for the articles. I much prefer licking the pages).
I take a pee (very important to do prior to star gazing, I hear), grab a jacket, saddle up the ponies (ie. put the leashes on the mutts) and head for the Jeep. Headlamp and highlighter in hand...we hit the road searching for...well, absolutely nowhere. We're heading for the boondocks.
We dropped anchor in the driveway of what appears to be a large horse barn and get to star hunting. We hook up with the little dipper, the big dipper (a la ursa major), sirius, orion's belt and are searching for the star nursery round about the time A REALLY BIG TRUCK ALMOST SQUISHES US. Apparently this truck belongs to the rather drunken and well mustached owner of the property we were squatting on...and he wasn't terribly thrilled that we were there...
at least until he realized I'm a girl.
He comes sauntering over in a fashion that, quite frankly, scared me shitless and I've never been happier that my dogs sound mean. I'm all "Oh, sorry, sir. We're just looking for stars." He's all, "Well, there are plenty of them out here." and my dogs are all "WOOF. WOOF. BARK. SNARL. LEAVE MY MOMMY ALONE."
good dogs. this guy was reeking of "sweet. now I don't have to go to the candy store to find my next victim" and I've never felt more secure in saying "oooh. better not get too close. I don't think they'll jump through the windows TO EAT YOUR BRAINS."
He gives us the "well, have fun" farewell, I give the dogs a pat on the noses and we get back to constellation spotting...until seven minutes later when he comes back out.
dood, I thought I told you my pitbulls are man-eaters. step off. we'll be gone in a second, yo.
so imagined how surprised (not very) I was when he gave us a "Planisphere" gadget to help us locate stars based on our current date, time and position. Ok. so he's not a bury-em-behind-the-barn-creep....just your regular ol' garden variety horny dude with an overgrown 'stache. I thanked homeboy profusely, tried my best to get the dogs to bark, again and wanted nothing more than to finish this project up and get to stepping. I'm officially sketched at this point.
full moon. dead of the woods. 'stache man. yeah, I'm ready to be outtie.
just as he clears out to let us finish up, we saw our lives flash before our eyes yet again.
I'll sum up with the following words:
large truck drunken redneck swerved off road papers flying too close for comfort near miss
fuck this project. it's time for a movie and some popcorn...rednecks and full moons make a suki nervous.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
suki takes on stoney
I headed out for a day of "boy climbing" (note to readers: when someone says to you that an area is "hard," "tough" or "boy climbing"...don't go.) with the trad fellas ryan, the robber and andy and managed to escape the day with only the u
sual contusions.
sual contusions.*thank you, allah, for not breaking my ankle*
I was mortified. see...trad and I haven't really gotten along in the past. I've never placed gear...hell, I can't even tie a knot...and I've had more than my share of frustration removing gear. like...my first time out on slab, scared to dizeath with a notorious pink nut stuck for all its worth and me, almost literally, shitting my pants.
while I managed to avoid pooing in the panties this time out...I did, halfway through the day...
have to shit in the woods. (I'd like to take this opportunity to give a shout out to zip-loc bags, baby wipes, and old shoes.)
with some sound advice and stout encouragement from a life-long boyscout...I decided it was doo or die. I hiked off. being quite early in the season, I had some trouble finding the appropriate measure of ground cover...or any at all...and was, let's say...
less than secure.
long story short: I managed to NOT shit on the trail (its been done), only shit on myself a little, and squeak another few hours of hang time out without crying, whining, or otherwise imploding.
I'm a real climber, now.
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