Nobodies Girl

A couple of issues were really pissing me off on the way into work today. One: Thinking of the coward jackass that killed his family, set himself on fire and left a note of explanation in his van. Two: There is a most incredible park nestled within the forest. It has been burned down twice now. I have been corresponding with the BCA President about ways to prevent this from reoccurring. There is a meeting tonight – I’m not up to it.

What is with people who own dogs that nuzzle their noses right into your crotch? Let it be known that if you haven’t been kind enough to invest the time to show your dog how to greet guests and you invite me over to encounter that, the dog is lining himself up to a direct shot to the snout.

All the fire that was building on the drive in I doused with thoughts of my friend Jim. He’s one of those people whom by mere thought make everything in life a simple matter of perspective. In the words of Jim “GET A LIFE”. He actually teaches that course in his Life Skills Series. Cool guy.

I miss him and need to return his book I’ve kept hostage like a Jim blankie in his absence. I’m going to visit him Saturday and MUST remember a Tim Horton's medium coffee one cream. He’s just returned from a BC road trip. With his company he takes people climbing all over the world. www.corporateheights.ca This is us on an ice climb day trip...

In other news, Dum-Dum aka Anum in CA is getting ready to climb a new El Cap route called Tribal Rite which starts roughly 12/13 pitches up. He tells me it’s “stout A4” with not a lick of free climbing. Ten days climbing, three for the accent, seven actually climbing and a little R&R on the summit. I had to cut our convo short, so still haven’t procured the missing information about portaledge sleeping. My friends always ask me about rolling over.

“Her Highness Tokyo” has send me another speech to proof for her. She sends me the same e-mail from three different addresses and always signs off: I love you very much!!(^3^) I hope she nails this one, her English is really improving…. “How do you think about the IC Tags?” …Well kind of… I see her position on the IC Tags has changed…I miss her too.

Fucking depressing talking about people I miss. … Especially when I’m stuck at home with my period all crampy and growing a gargantuan ZIT. Sigh…Self pitty. Something so satisfying about it. I can’t even begin to discuss missing Grog-moot and our mountain biking. Ouuuch.

What can I say, I love my friends, the good the bad and the ugly and I'M NOT AFRAID TO SHOW IT DAMN IT!!!! After all, life is but a whisp of smoke. What good are you if you can't be honest? ..... Segue.....

This will be no more uplifting, but since I’ve already had a good cry about the work issue and a good laugh knowing that my boobs are completely innocent… I read about Teri Hatcher coming forth about her sexual abuse. Partly it’s as frustrating as hell that a fourteen year old girl took her own life. Teri came forward. That’s what counts. Shame is a big wall that took over 40 years to face. Too bad that Stone wasn’t as brave. I feel for the parents loss. Hatcher said that before going to prosecutors four years ago, she had never told anyone of her own ordeal, not even her parents. That’s rough. All in all, she did the right thing when it counted. It will be interesting to see how this pans out over the next several year for her. I know I’ll be checking in that wouldn't have been an easy thing to do. I believe that any feelings of anger are normal surrounding this issue. I think the important thing is that the anger is properly channelled towards the abuser, not towards the victim. Now, I do believe there's a debate about a victim's responsibility of contacting the police. I for one do believe it would be my responsibility to file a report at the very least. The police depending on local laws will offter to contact the abuser, even if charges are not pressed.

Well, it’s time for my yummy greek salad and then I think I’ll two-bite brownie my self into a full tummy.

Something's gotta give soon. It may be my waist line.