July 2007 Archives

There's simply no lack of excellence on the part of the movie 300. Now, though, it just got a tiny bit cooler. Kudos to the characters that thought this gem up. Click on the picture to bring up a bigger (far more legible) version.

For Jim's birthday, he got dashboard ninjas. There is no cooler gift, and he knows it. Aside from this, he also got my presence at his dinner table. Now that's a gift of dubious quality... and who knows what mischief I'm getting into at the end of the table. Looks like I'm having a great time, though!

No, that's not totally correct: Harry and Christina are pregnant again! Fantastic news from across the country (those bastards live about as far as they can from me without moving across an ocean - although some might consider that a very wise move indeed.) I'm stoked for another Porudominsky kid to play with.

Admittedly, it is weird to see people that you've known for so long do things like, you know, get married, have kids, get all domestic an' stuff. Freaky. But it's a really good thing, and I'm extremely happy for them. Congratulations to them!

But how does little Alex (their current child) feel about this? In an interview, he was quoted as saying "If it's a boy, he must be called Johnson. If it's a girl, you shall name her Susan." (I wonder if he said that with an English accent?) His parents have other ideas for names, but Alex is holding his ground like the Spartans at Thermopylae: "If it's not Susan or Johnson, the baby will hate the name, because it's simply not normal."

Oh, Alex, you're such a little scamp! Whatever the child's name in the end, I'm sure it'll be sweet. Like Thor. Or Grog.

No, seriously. This ad is hilariously old school, but it really does come off as slightly insane. Maybe a little more than slightly. And with all this dancing around and shaking the bottle, wouldn't that just be plain dangerous? And yes, that's the guy from American Werewolf in London. What? You've never seen that movie? I'm not surprised (and neither is he.)

Anyway, watch, and enjoy the original taste of 23 flavors dancing around the screen to a catchy jingle. Carbonated prune juice, indeed.

So we're back from our trip. Originally a foray into the entire Southeastern United States climbing zones, I had planned a whole extravaganza of climbing and driving. This got whittled down to what I like to call "the Bermuda Triangle of Climbing", i.e. Rocktown to Foster Falls to Sandrock (you could substitute Rocktown for HP40 if you're so inclined.) This Triad Of Doom would include bouldering (Rocktown or HP40), technical vert (Foster Falls), and then fun vert (Sandrock). We ended up hitting Rocktown (where I sent Double Trouble at The Orb - V4/5!), and then just spending the rest of our time at Foster Falls.

The reality of it is that Foster Falls is pretty darned badassed as a climbing area. A highly enjoyable, highly varied area with plenty of climbs and plenty of variety. No question, though: stay away from the easy stuff. The climbs start getting really fun at 5.10a. Before that, some of the 9's are halfway decent, but there's an 8 - Bear Mountain Picnic - that really, really, really, really sucks. Especially if you're not 6 feet tall. Which I am. But Shaunna's not. And even I found it pretty unenjoyable.

Aside from this, though, there were some seriously great climbs, and there's a couple of roof areas (the left and right bunker) that are unbelievably sweet. All 5.12's and 13's, and incredibly epic climbs. There's lots to climb, and the falls - while not especially prolific due to a bit of a drought - are a beautiful area to hang out and swim around (very very very cold water). The camping is fantastic, lots of canopy to guard against rain, very clean and well kept.

Anyway, I would definitely recommend it as a destination for intermediate to advanced climbers - I'm not sure beginners would have a super fabulous time at Foster Falls. And if you're going there, make absolutely sure you pick up the Dixie Cragger's Guide. It is an indispensable guide to not just the Foster Falls area, but the whole Tennessee scene (which is pretty extensive), and there's a separate volume for 'Bama and Georgia. It has maps and topos and all kinds of information about the routes, so it's very easy to find everything.

My only caveat: if you're going to Rocktown, grab the topo here. Includes directions on how to get there (and they're mostly accurate).

Running to Dr Topo to get the link to the Rocktown guide, I found this video of Jason Kehl's home away from home (or maybe it really is his home?) Either way, he's a sick climber, and the video is amusing for a couple of reasons. Biggest one for me? No matter how rural or backcountry the area you're climbing in, no matter where you are, you can almost always find yourself a 24-hour Super WalMart to take the browns to the Superbowl. It's true.

This is the conclusion that I came to while driving to work today.

As I was cruising down the turnpike, minding my own business, the car in front of my swerved slightly to avoid something in the road. I (being the awesome driver that I am) did the same. As I was driving by I noticed that the object both cars had narrowly missed was a turtle! Mr. Turtle was - quite slowly - making his way across the turnpike. And he was only halfway there.

I'm amazed he made it that far. What is even more amazing is that he would subsequently make it all the way to the median. What he planned on doing once he got there, I can't imagine. But I'm jumping ahead of myself...

I zoomed by this poor doomed turtle. By the time I'd realized what I'd passed, and how doomed he really was (i.e. risk assessment of me vs. turtle while trying to save said turtle by running out onto the highway) I'd traveled quite a ways. In the end, though, I decided that I had to at least try to help the little hard-shelled monkey. So I hopped off the next exit, paid my tolls, ran all the back North from Commercial Blvd to Sample (I had to make sure I didn't pass him), and then got back on the Southbound Turnpike.

Lo and behold, I found him. He had indeed made it all the way to the median (it took me forever, between the tolls and the traffic, to get back to him), and was walking along the median, as if a hole would magically appear. I suppose that eventually he would've made it to the rest stop, which I believe does have a lake. I wasn't about to risk it, however, so I grabbed Mr. Turtle, introduced him to my Jeep, and we drove to Motorola together. He explored every corner of my rolling swampy bathtub (and I'm sure felt quite at home, expect for the vibration). When we reached Motorola I called Gibran and we took him to lake Motorola, which has lots of water, lots of fish, and lots of wildlife rolling around in it.

One look of that lake was all it took and Mr. Turtle was waving his arms like mad. I put him down near shore and he scrambled his way down to the lake, where he promptly dove in and swam away as fast as he could. Not even a thank you! It's okay, though: I know Mr. Turtle is now happier (and safer) than a clam.