Well, I officially fired myself. "ST step into my office!" First I forget to attach the picture in my last post, and since I can't add pictures after they've been posted, I have to create a whole new one, then instead of pushing 'tab', I pushed 'enter', so now I have three new posts effectively trying to say the same thing. Here is the original jpeg. Pretty eh?
Punter I am, bloody twit. I must have lost too many brain cells during my climbing career, spending time up at 100 and sometimes 140 feet cant' be that good. SO – to make up for my stupidity, I am going to add another picture, that's right two for the price of one (because pictures are fun, especially when they have nothing remotely to do with climbing up silly chunks of metamorphic rock). This picture was taken by Surf Mag. It seems the visionary surfing magazine is holding its annual bikini contest. Now why didn't Climbing think of that? You ask. Because girls don't wear bikini's to competitions and to Salt Lake City Trade Shows, that's why, therefore it would seem a bit offensive and since we climbers are such a self-righteous bunch, it will likely never happen. So we must look elsewhere and stop thinking about it, it's just the way it is. Thank god for surfing. Maybe climbing can host a painter's pant contest? Just a suggestion. Think about it.
Tomorrow I am going out for my last and final day at Smith Rock. I want to preserve my skin, so I will be trying fairly easy stuff or at least skin friendly stuff. Along with four laps on 'Churning' 5.13a (because I have it wired and it's ideal for men with sensitive skin) I also tried To Bolt or Not to Be, two days ago and the hardest 5.14a on the freakin planet. It was the second time during my stay here. Once I used worn out Moccasyms, don't ask me why, it was a horror show, and most recently with my new Lace-ups, the difference in performance was staggering, but of course it doesn't take a Jessica Simpson to figure that out. The warming temps did nothing for my finger tips however. Flesh is peeling off faster than Whacko Jacko's face. Need tape tomorrow most likely and maybe even some of that goop people put on to make tape stick better. Don't bother wishing me luck, I don't need luck. Smirk. Talk soon. And I hope I didn't offend anyone, if I did, take ten deep breaths, smile and walk away.