Spotted this on the front page of cnn.com:
Umm….one question: What exactly is this gun-wielding madman aiming at? Please, please, please tell me the target is wearing bulletproof boxers.
While putting the nursery together we noticed this icon printed on a vacuum seal bag:
So…what you’re telling me is that I shouldn’t put baby in the vacuum bag? Come on…the next thing you’ll be telling me is that I shouldn’t put my hand in a running garbage disposal, jump out of a moving car, or stare at the sun for extended periods of time. Why, that would be crazy talk.
I’d like to know what his excuse was…
I would pay good money to know what that pedestrian on the far left side of the bridge was thinking. It’s obvious that he noticed the truck with its raised bed fast approaching. He paused, long enough to root himself to the ground in fear, before the earth beneath him fell away. Frightening…
So I managed to get one day off from work last week, and decided to use this precious time to get a much-needed haircut. Off I trudged to the local hairstylist (whatever happened to the term “barber”?), where I carefully printed my name on the sign-in sheet, grabbed a chair and the latest edition of Redbook (where did all of the Sports Illustrated go?), and settled in for what I was hoping was going to be a short wait.
Little did I know that the joker in front of me was one of those people who don’t know when to shut up.
His loud, grating voice permeated every nook and cranny of the establishment as he talked about his kids, his dogs, and how brittle his hair was during the months of April and October. His diatribe about the evils of colon cancer and the plague of rats that infested his mother’s attic ceaselessly continued as he had his hair shampooed. Never stopping to take a breather, his non sequitur-riddled dialogue made a sharp right at foot odor, negotiated a roundabout with famous political assassination attempts, took a detour on stuffed mushrooms and mint jelly, before finally diving into the deep end with the evils of modern cinema.
The man would Not. Stop. Talking.
And with every riveting change in topic, he’d ask the hairstylist to, “look at me. This is something most people aren’t aware of.” My God, man. Can’t you see the distinct disinterest the hairstylist has in your inane ramblings? How difficult is it to interpret her detached “hems” and “haws” as anything other than “will you shut the hell up, already”?
Finally, the last scissor cut was made, the last brush of the comb was waved, and the obligatory dab of gel was applied. Mr. Talker slowly ambled up to the counter to pay, never breaking his conversational stride as he asked the stylist about this hair product and that that hair product, and should I use this gel or that mouse, and should I lather under hot water before applying, and did we know that kids are having spastic epileptic fits when they play these modern video games because they’re trying so hard to win, and my son is taking karate but he has ADD, and blah, blah, blah…deftly keeping his credit card just out of the reach of the hairstylist in a blatant attempt to extend his one-sided conversation for as long as humanly possible.
All the while I patiently waited, contemplating whether or not to intervene. Luckily, Mr. Gasbag finally relequished his credit card, boldly stated for all to hear that he was leaving a five dollar tip (ohhh, big spender), and that he would return next month. As he confidently strode past me (the waft of air that trailed him stank of cheese and wood chips) out the door I could see the poor hairstylist roll her eyes and let go a pent up sigh of relief, obviously none too thrilled at the prospect of seeing this particular customer again any time soon.
I thought people like this existed only in south Florida retirement communities and bad 80′s teen television comedies. What the hell is wrong with some people? What disease could you possibly have that could make you such a social misfit?
It’s amazing how quickly January flew by. It’s now February 1st, and that can mean only one thing; it’s time to send out your application to enter the Mt. Whitney lottery.
If you want to have a chance at securing a spot on the mountain this year, you need to get your application in before the end of this month. If your envelope does not have a February postmark, then you’re just out of luck. There is the off-chance that you can pick up an unclaimed permit in April, but I wouldn’t count on it. As always, read the fine print.
Inyo National Forest Lottery Page
Be sure to put down as many alternate dates as possible. This will increase your odds of securing a permit.
Pro Tip: If you happen to secure a permit, remember to show up a day before your planned ascent, and pick up your permit before noon. If you show up after 12pm, your permit is null and void. There’s zero chance that you’ll get a replacement (unless you’re attempting a single day assault, then you might get a replacement day use pass).
To get you excited about Mt. Whitney 2010, check out my post from last year’s ascent.
Last year I completed the round trip in 10 hours. I’m hoping to cut 2 hours from that time. I think this year I’m going to talk to my doctor about altitude sickness medication. If I can negate the effects of altitude sickness (which really killed my time last year), I’m confident I can complete this run in 8 hours. I’d like to get the medication early and test it out on a Mt. Baldy (Mt. San Antonio) training run.
Man…I’m getting the butterflies just thinking about this run. Can’t wait!
See you on the trail!
