Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
(The Reader, ie. You: Wow, I also love alliterations.
Me: We really have so much in common you and I - ‘sigh’.
You: I like your face. You should call me.
Me: I like your lateral muscles. You must do reps.
...this goes on for a while...tune in later to see where we’re at...it might be steamy)
Anyway, getting on with it...
Ms Mjoanna has m-uncover a crate full of m-loosely climbing related fortune cookies. She ate the cookies and blogged the fortunes for your reading convenience.
Here’s how the game works. You pick a number between 1 and 15. You scroll down to that number and you read the corresponding fortune. Some fortunes were authored (by divine forces) with certain readers in mind, others were just plain authored. I’m not telling whose is meant for whom cause its more fun leaving you a little confused (nervous? shocked? I’m going for a range of emotions here). You can play until you get a fortune you like. Or until you get bored. Actually, there aren’t any rules, I just needed a back story for this entry.
Alright, here we go:
YOUR CLIMBING FORTUNE SAYS:
1. You are cruxing...right now
2. You will never send Andrew’s Traverse. You will not pass go. You will never have two hundred dollars. This knowledge will haunt you always.
3. Tragically, you find undeniable evidence that size does matter. More than that, it matters a lot (...Um, like arm span etc when you’re climbing... don’t be so effing sensitive...Christ, cry much?).
4. You will never be entirely comfortable locking off on your left side. You are pitied always.
5. The business socks you are wearing will have a truly amazing effect on those around you. The rest of this vision is a little fuzzy, but there is unquestionably a Slam-pig involved (and she might be known for misusing, comas).
6. You are made of rainbows. Unicorns prance and dolphins sing wherever you go.
7. Your friend Tabatha will turn on you at an awkward moment. This will be devastating for a number of embarrassing reasons. (If you weren’t there for this joke, ask someone who was. It’s totally one you want to be in on.)
8. One day, not long from now, you will fail to offer vital contextual information as you publicly describe getting your left hand stuck up a greasy crack for half an hour. This mistake will illicit shocking consequences you will either find terrifying or awesome. Either way, you will never forget the incident.
9. You will save the whales. Your will onsite a V12. You are divine and I love you.
10. Within the year you will have He-man's hair, the hands of a leper, and feet sporting the scent and general aesthetic of aging road kill. You will be considered the most attractive person in your peer group thanks to these achievements. This fortune is, of course, contingent on rock climbers remaining your primary social network.
11. You will be minding your own business, bouldering with friends, when an oddly dashing character with an unbutton plaid shirt and a majorly huge crash pad steps out of the woods to sweep you off your feet. Based on this incident, you become the revered author of a highly successful series of romance novels. You make millions. Everything is magic henceforth. (Oh wait, this is my fortune – how’d it get in here? You go pick another one, this one's taken.)
12. Your upcoming birthday will find you minutes away from a fancy hotel room where two good looking strippers and some cocaine await you for your first ever melange a trois. All of a sudden the douche bag standing behind you pukes all over your salmon pink leisure suit. Your evening is ruined and the missed opportunity will never present itself again. Overall, this sucks.
13. My imagination and your reality cross paths. It’ll be weird for both of us. I’ll probably like it more than you.
14. New Jersey happens to you!...Wait, it gets worse... At some sleazy bar in Hoboken you meet Gloria (Paul’s ex-girlfriend/GPS system). You become her rebound. Ultimately, you feel used…you may as well start crying now.
15. You and all your climbing friends ditch New York and move into adjacent houses on the same street out west. You climb everyday and live happily ever after. It’s totally beautiful and then there’s a perfect sunset. The End.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
I mean, I don’t do it every time, but after showing up at the gym and doing the same moves every Tuesday/Thursday, sometimes you just need to mix things up a bit. You know how it goes.
At its most essential, slutty climbing involves replenishing the elemental things that sustain our climbing community: Blatant, preferably bizarre, come ons - we like those a lot. Sexual harassment in the climbing gym needs to be provoked to ensure there is a sustainable supply of ass grabs and feelskies for all worthy participants. Unnecessarily tight clothing is another thing we’re really trying to maintain in prominent standing. I mean, think about it - climbing without a readily referable camel toe around? Yeah, sure, that sounds fun…ummm, not. Basically, what we’re talking about is really anything from harmless flirting to irresponsible and potentially disastrous hookups with fellow climbers.
In a recent discussion with an avid ladycrusher-dot-blogspot fan, this particular crusher expressed desire to try it out, but nerves regarding what sexy climbing entitles. What can I say? You’re not sure this is something you want to try? You think someone’s going to see your nipples while you’re suspended midair on an overhang with half a shirt on? Well get over it, cause you’re gonna show 'em and we’re gonna be proud of you. You see, you can’t cave climb in a circa nineteen-ninety-two tank top with the front tucked through the neck and prevent boob spillage. Get real - it’s, like, geometrically impossible (ie. circles have a 360 degree circumference and the sum of all three corners of a triangle only equates 180 meaning a triangular cloth will never cover more than half a boob - that’s grade three math stuff). Plus even if math would allow for more modest climbing, I wouldn’t want it – no thanks.
Easy question. Cause every now and then, every Crusherlady – wherever she may roam, whatever she calls home – she’s going to need the chance to be a bit of a Slam-pig. That’s right, I said it. You read it. I meant it. And what’s more, I think you dig it: Deep down inside every lady who climbs there is a piggly-wiggly just dying for a stack of slamcake.
Don’t be embarrassed, Slam-pigs are effing hot. In fact, they should put a picture of a Slam-pig on the hundred dollar bill. You know what else, they should project a Slam-pig two thousand times magnified onto Antarctica so you can see it from space. And after that, they should institute a federal bureau of Slam-pigs so we can better investigate Slam-pig activity around the globe – write your congressmen, make it happen.
You like pandas? Fuck pandas – SLAM-PIGs! Dolphins? Fuck Dolphins, SLAM-PIGs! Here’s a quiz; name three things hotter than a Slam-pig? ‘BLEEP’ Incorrect. The only acceptable answer was nothing, nothing and nothing (that was a psyc, pardon).
Now check out this graph!
Alright. There’s a few more things we need to go over before concluding. First of all, don’t say we didn’t warn you; there are also some professional risks to Slam-pigging. Namely, a Slam-pig always needs to be vigilant about the ever present threat of Douchbags climbing in the area. Douchbags love Slam-pigs. They also have infallible radar when it comes to locating a Slam-pig’s coordinates. Ladycrusher-dot-blogspot suggests caution when it comes to Douchbags. Boat shoes may have their place in the world, but that place is not under your bed. Polos may be cute, but not on your floor. Mutual funds may be trendy, but you – my darling – are a ladycrusher and you don’t need to spend your evenings being lectured on the relative advantages of not giving to a charitable cause.
But – that said - Don’t worry too much about getting duped by a Douchbag: 1) Because it happens to every Slam-pig at some point 2) Douchbags are usually pretty easy to identify unless you’ve not been drugged (which is not uncommon). By consequence, in most cases you’re not really in danger when it comes to Douchbags unless you kinda sorta wanted to be and, although I find this unwise, I respect your decision.*
*I must add a public health warning as postscript: Should you follow a Douchbag home, please be advised that every one of his breed has a practiced explanation regarding why The Pull-Out is an effective safeguard against unwanted pregnancy and STD transmission. His case in defense of pulling out will probably be the best argued and most concise reasoning you will ever hear from a Douchbag. Be aware, the statement is untrue regardless.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
I’m in love. In love with Colorado, its huge sky, never-ending mountains and beautiful people. Now that I’m back in NY, even though I’ve missed it, I feel the need to run away back to Colorado and its sweet climbing. It’s a dream.
Fist things first, Andrew Tower is a wonderful host. I had a blast in CO.Staying in ManCamp, sleeping in random houses and climbing for 6 days. Brilliant.
Colorado welcomed me with friends, incredible climbing, booze and dancing.
I arrived on Friday and Saturday I watched as dudes played climbing Golf. Twelve 5.12s in one day. My day started with falling 15 feet off the top of a 5.12a on Anarchy Wall. BWT (aka Les) gave me a nice soft catch and got me psyched and scared shit less all at the same time. I refused to fall off anything else after that for the rest of the day.
We climbed all through Wednesday, which was dedicated to a rest day and a very own Colorado’s Whiskey Wednesday.
Andrew introduced me to his awesome female friends Cary, Jamie and Bekki. Jamie and Caryn instantly were recognized as the part of the tribe. Girls know how to crush and be badasses. They put me through a falling boot camp at a local Gym, by making me scale up a wall, and then making me let go of the last hold and take a whipper. I was voted the loudest screamer at the gym. Fuck it, I was so scared my ears blew out and hands shook FOR EVA! Every time I refused to let go or tried to down climb, they gave me a little bit more slack. I had no choice, but let go and become comfortable with falling off shit. It took some time, and I'm sure I will still think about it and my body will freak out, but now I feel in control of my falling fear.
Nikki, Joey…you don’t even know what I have in store for you, ladies. Just wait.
On the trip I’ve met so many people that I look up to, to discover that all of them are awesome, normal, funny, dedicated and psyched on climbing. I did meet Lynn Hill. I had to throw that one in there. She’s a legend and my personal favorite. I introduced myself, shook her hand, and admired from a far.
On the trip, I also fell in love with sport climbing. I was stoked to boulder my face off the whole duration of the trip, but since most my friends are sport climbers, I sport climbed. It’s beautiful, fluid and aggressive. Honestly, I love all sorts of climbing, as long as it’s climbing. Trad scares me, but only because I'm not familiar with it, and don’t know how to place gear. I will learn in time and will spend my afternoons high off the ground eating peanut butter sandwiches. You’ll see.
I need to wait until the dust of my excitement settles down in my brain and I can offer more detailed summary of the trip, for right now, I miss you Colorado-NY I love you, but you’re bringing me down.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
This is Paul. His core muscles are remarkable. Paul is handsome, he is smart. Paul has great hair, he has a better car. Paul can program your Macbook to walk itself to the kitchen, make you a sandwich and slap its own bitchface when it forgets the mayonnaise. Until recently, Paul was snared in an on again off again romance with Gloria, a passive aggressive GPS system he unwittingly installed in his Jeep six months ago who has been relentless in her attempts to control his life even since (let her go Paul, she’s not the One).
“So Gloria’s done? Awesome! That means Paul’s on the market, right?”
Good question, reader. The answer, coming to you hot off the desk of ladycrusher-dot-blogspot-dot-com’s top investigative team, is an enthusiastic ‘No effing way, dudes”. FYI, now’s when you high five Paul.
“What?!?! No way?!?”
Reader, you impress me, more brilliant questions! It sounds like you need a little background info on Paul’s Relationship (hey, that’s the title of the blog entry...I guess that means we’re coming close to the thesis statement). Well, lucky for you I’m awake after Grey’s Anatomy with the sole aim of telling you everything you could ever want to know about Paul’s Relationship, plus a few things you didn’t actually want to know but are about to learn regardless:
It started on Tuesday. A decently smoking young woman with auburn curls appeared – a little nervous, a little excited – at the front desk of MPHC climbing. The tension soon left her face as Paul, the hero of our story, left the bouldering room behind him to meet her halfway (meaning mid top-rope room) with harness in hand. (That’s a climbing harness, dirty you. We’re not at the part of the story with that kind of harness quite yet…okay, to justify this diversion, I’d like to point out that ‘the harness’ is key here. In fact, we only know that Paul and auburn curls are in a relationship because Paul does not deny bringing the harness EXCULSIVELY to do routes with her. Were it not already clear, that means they talk on the phone – she’s totally his gf forevs.)
Okay, side story over. Where were we? Oh yeah, we were approaching the best part…
Just one look, just one gentle tug on her grigri - that was all it took. That was enough to say ‘baby, let’s take this slow’. So they started with a series of trust falls. At first they worked in close quarters; there’s no risk in that, really. But trust grew quickly between them and soon they’d incorporated blindfolds and other such things (like taking a half step backwards after every successful attempt). This is when I happened to walk past the duo only to hear a timid yet resolute voice whimper; “Catch me Paul, I’m falling”, then softer, barely audible, “for you, Paul…for…you…”.
They top roped for, like, two hours and then fully made it to second base in the change room (with no lock, if you hadn’t noticed – nice one Paul). And then, the best part - and this part is actually true - Paul played it totally cool when Auburn came over looking for a little salutation. He just kept bouldering with his bros (+ladycrushers) and was like “See ya – whatevs” when she left. Note: This was a LEGEND move dudes, learn from Paul – this is what makes a girly keep coming back (I would know, I fall for this shit, like, four times a day).
So, anyway, concluding this: Paul is in a relationship and I suggest you bring it up next time (every time) you get the chance. He’s exploding with the urge to talk about it but he is also a little shy, so he’s waiting for you to ask him for the juicy details. And be persistent, the more he resists, the more he wants to open before you the floodgates of his true emotions.
(P.S. Paul is in a relationship, pass it on)