In Pursuit of Happiness

The Big Move

2007-01-20T00:23:00.000-08:00

I finally got my new site up. It's got some very exciting NOTHING going on, but I will be posting there from now on. I've been experimenting with various themes and messing with the style sheets and such, so if you notice the site randomly looking like crap, hit reload a few hundred times and I'll probably have broken it some other new way. So here goes the big move over to:

SteakGirl.com

New Compy

2007-01-17T22:32:00.000-08:00

Ooomf, back from the dead. Forgive my running off and hiding without so much a word. I've been avoiding my creepy new computer like the plague...but my replacement has arrived and not having a mechanical tenant in my living room is nice. So as much as I've bitched about that other computer, it's kind of hard to just take my word for it. So here's a picture of the beast sitting next to my old machine:
Yeah, fitting that computer in the old space was out of question.
I'm very happy with my new XPS 410. It's pretty much the same size as the old one.

Feed me, Seymour!

2007-01-08T11:50:00.000-08:00

I'm returning my computer, here's why:

Computer	Height	Width	Depth
Dimension E 520	16.2	7.4	17.25
XPS 410	18.13	7.38	17.88
XPS 710	21.86	8.6	24.25

My old computer was a Dimension of some sort...I was expecting something slightly bigger. I'm thinking of getting a 410 to replace that scary ass 710.

"Your computer has too much computer in it. And not enough typewriter."

I called up Dell this morning before I left for work to tell them I'm sending the monster machine back. The guy on the phone was nice about it, he simply asked me why. I told him it's just too huge of a machine. He offered me money to keep the machine. For just a moment I was distracted...hmmm...money... What? No, please I don't want the stupid machine. If I keep the machine long term the damned thing needs to pay rent to take up that much of my living space. It's going back.

Baby Jesus and Hot Wax

2007-01-07T23:31:00.000-08:00

According to weather forecast, today was supposed to be epic powder day at the mountains, so I got off my lazy behind and waxed my board yesterday. Being new at this hot waxing business I covered the hell out of my board with wax because getting “an even thin layer” of wax is actually harder than it sounds. In the end, I think any kindergartener with some crayons and school radiator could have done a better job – but at least I didn’t kill my family with fluorocarbon fume. I’ll take my small victories wherever I can find them. I scraped and scraped, but I still felt like maybe I’ve left too much wax on the board. I was worried I would just stick to the side of the mountain completely motionless.

It turns out, even if you completely botched your waxing job, your board would still love it. My board loved the new waxing so much I could almost hear it say, “Wheeee! Wheeeeee!!! Let’s gooooo!” I’m all for a happy fast board, but it was a bit hard to explain when the board kept wanting to plow over people waiting in line for the lift.

Unfortunately, today’s snow turned out to be the opposite of epic powder. It was warm and dumping drenching rain in Seattle, so we had wet snow pellets in Stevens. I could deal with trying to board in heavy wet snow, but the real kick in the nuts had to be the lack of visibility. It was near impossible to see the ground. I don’t mind falling when I’m being careless and catching an edge here and there, but it felt like injustice was being served when random ninja snow humps catch you. I don’t mind catching some air here and there, but well…when you’re going down head first with your body parallel to the mountain, that’s not always as fun as it looks. And then there’s the crazy happy board that, soon as it touched some snow, went “Wheeee!” and tried to drag me down the mountain whether I was upright or not.

All in all, I love knowing how to tune and wax my own board, I’m shocked that I haven’t done it sooner. It’s worth your while if you go boarding more than 3 times a year. The last time I had my board tuned and waxed was end of last season, so the speed and control difference was ridiculously noticeable.

Now I’d like to take a moment out to bitch about the snow condition. I think my not drinking is making baby Jesus cry because EVERY damned time I made sure to stay home and not drink so I could be nice and chirpy for the promised awesome snow day, it would be crappy the next day. The last truly epic powder day I had was when I was hungover and cursing life.

Yes, Master.

2007-01-06T10:58:00.000-08:00

I ordered a new computer from Dell recently and have been eagerly waiting its arrival. It didn't get delivered till late last night, so the system was waiting in the house's main living room while I was showering and getting ready to go out. As I was leaving, I figured I should move the boxes into my living room. I took one look at the box that housed the brain of the computer and thought "Oh, fuck no!" The box was over 70lbs and could probably provide adequate shelter for a small family. What the hell kind of computer weighs over 70lbs!? I looked at the box again to make sure they didn't decide to send me some 25 inch CRT monitor because that is the only possibility in my mind as to how a computer could weigh this much. Mind you, this is ONLY the computer part...not monitor because the monitor box is about 1/4 of that size and weight, due to the fact that its a simple 20-inch flat screen. I looked at the box some more and decided I'll deal with it in the morning because I was just damned scared of the box. I've NEVER had a computer scare me like that.

I finally cracked the box open this morning and peeked inside the box to make sure there wasn't a giant monster waiting inside, getting ready to pounce out and consume my family. You see that picture with all the different Dell machines up top? You see that slightly bigger machine? Well, the picture is fucking misleading because you just see it from the front - from the side, the machine is a god damned beast. I've moved around plenty of computers in my life...the only thing I've ever grunted from lifting were the old 21 inch CRT monitors. The computer tower? Meh, I can lift the thing with one hand if need be. I was grunting and heaving trying to get the giant metal box up to my living room.

When I first booted up the machine it sounded like an airplane trying for take-off but then it quickly winded down to a pleasant hum. At this point, I'm thinking this machine is plotting to take over the world on its own and make me its bitch. It's that scary of a machine.

I'm currently reformatting my old computer and installing World of Warcraft on it, so I can give it to my 11 years-old brother so we can WoW together. It's just a part of what I do to make sure he gets beaten up and stuffed into lockers.

More of the Old

2007-01-04T20:19:00.000-08:00

When I kick my lazy streak in the nuts, I’ll move my blog over to SteakGirl.com. Yes, I own that now because apparently the crazy Germans that owned it before didn’t manage to make a kickass porn site out of it and decided to let the domain go when the year ran out.

Will I make a porn site out of it? As interesting as the idea sound…I don’t think so. It’ll be the same old me rambling endless about trying to figure out how the hell do I use this new piece of gear.

So last year, I’ve made a point to start taking better care of me in hopes that my bones won’t crack and my liver will hold so that I might be able to hike into old age. This year, I’ve decided I should learn how to take care of my gear. I wanted to learn how to tune my bike and snowboard instead of bringing it into some shop or another and remain clueless on what they do with my equipment. Since it’s winter, I went to buy a bunch of stuff so that I can tune my own snowboard. I’ve got the world’s cutest iron to wax my board and got all sorts of files for the edges, I’ve even picked up a brush for my snowboard…I think I’m taking better care of my board than myself as this point.

When I got home, I looked up what I was supposed to do with at the wax and scrubby pad and stuff; I found a pretty good website on this. Then I read the website, “Step 1: Clean your snowboard”. Shit. I completely forgot base cleaner. How the hell was I supposed to know that I actually need to clean the damned board? I mean, I’m going to cover the damn thing in poisonous wax anyhow…what’s a little dirt here and there? Sigh. I’m just not that smart sometimes.

So if you read about some girl killing her entire family with poisonous wax fumes - that idiot would be me.

Happy Hangover Day!

2007-01-01T23:54:00.000-08:00

Happy New Years from the top of Mount Si:
After a wonderful year of hiking, it felt right to go on a hike on the 31st...what a beautiful day. I took a moment to clear my head, thought about all the best moments of 2006...people that I'm grateful for and people that I think perhaps I should stop stressing over. I had a great year with a lot of heartaches and triumphs, some that I've shared, some that I figured is better left unsaid but I learned a lot about myself this year. I've found that can almost always push myself beyond limits that I thought I had.

And a drunken party with my family:
I ended the year surrounded by people that loves me and I love dearly in return.

Racks and Hair Dye

2006-12-27T09:35:00.000-08:00

Whew! This year has gone by fast. How is everyone’s holiday going? I hope you got the chance to spend some quality time with friends and family.

Myself, I got the chance to spend it with just about every person I really care for – including a bunch of old high school friends whom I haven’t seen in a long while. I saw my one token girlfriend, Gigi. I saw my high school clique, for the most part everyone stayed the same, except for my friend, Myra, who is now 5 months pregnant (which while slightly shocking was a bit expected since she’s been married for a long while now). They were extremely shocked that I’ve cut my hair so short and stopped eating red meat and kept asking if I was okay…perhaps I’ve hit my head or suffered from some horrible mental trauma. I’m surprised I could still shock them considering I’ve been the one that kept changing on them – perhaps I haven’t changed much in a while…but I’m very different from the girl they knew in high school. My favorite quote of the night had to be from my friend Nhan (keep in mind, this group is ALL Chinese), someone was asking if I was going to dye my hair red again and he said, “Oh, my god, I almost asked if you dyed your hair black, I forgot that’s your natural hair color.” We gave him the brilliant guy of the night award. It's a good thing he's an electrical engineer because we wouldn't want him doing anything important.

I went to a Christmas party with my old roommate, Dave. I got to hang out with my old drinking buddies which is very nice. The scariest thing about that night had to be all signs pointing to brain damage when I keep meeting people whom I’ve apparently met before through Dave that I didn’t recognize. I’ve prided myself in remembering faces even if I don’t remember names…but oops. I guess there was a point during that party phase that I was just meeting more new faces than I can remember too. One guy did make a mistake in having met me:

Random Guy: Didn’t we meet before?
Me: I don’t think so, although you wouldn’t be the first person I don’t remember here tonight…but I’m pretty sure I haven’t met you. Unless you happen to know my old roommate, Dave – in which case, I was probably too drunk to remember if I’ve met you. Do you know Dave?
Random Guy: No, I don’t know Dave, but you look like my friend Zoë’s girlfriend.
Me: Hahaha, no I don’t swing that way, I wish I did, but no.
Random Guy: Well, if it makes you feel any better, she’s hot and has a nice rack.

I guess if someone is going to accuse me of looking like some lesbian, it ought to be a hot lesbian with nice tits.

Merry Christmas

2006-12-25T10:15:00.000-08:00

My family is Buddhist so we don't exactly celebrate Christmas. Every year, we get together, work our asses off at our family restaurant (this is actually fun), then all the kids get together...maybe get baked and go to see a really dumb movie, good times.

I wish everyone a wonderful Christmas. And cheers to whirled peas (stolen).
With Love.

I Love You Too, God.

2006-12-13T14:54:00.000-08:00

If there is a God, he is probably clutching his chest, falling over, laughing while point at me right about now, we FINALLY got some new snow on the mountain:

Still More Inappropriate Jokes

2006-12-07T09:03:00.000-08:00

Okay, it turns out please-come-help-me-teach-my-cock-sucking-class dude is gay. I thought he was gay…but he was making my skin crawl the way he was looking at me and my sister. Oh, did I mention I attract creepy gay guys too? Come to think about it, every creepy gay men I’ve met are through my sister, she’s a creepy gay magnet. What makes a gay guy creepy? Well…they’re the guys who thinks just because they are gay, they are entitled to fondling women. Yeah, her creepy gay friends seem to think it’s okay to come up and grab my breasts. While I understand it doesn’t do anything for them, it’s still my body and it’s still not cool.

Onto less creepy topic…so about 5 coworkers and myself went up for night skiing last night. One guy, Sto, left about two hours earlier than the rest of us because his team just finished their project. I carpooled with my buddy Daniel and Jason. When we got up there we met up with our buddy Fraser and headed off to the lift. As we waited for the lift, Fraser got a call from Sto’s wife…we can hear Fraser trying to calm her down and telling her we’ll give him a ride back. Fraser gets off the phone and said, “That’s was Sto’s wife, apparently he just got kicked out because he got caught getting a blowjob in the bathroom and his wife is pissed and wanting to come get him.” We all screamed, “What!?” After a long pause, Fraser laughed, “Haha, just kidding, he broke his arm.” Somehow, we all felt better about our friend breaking his arm and simultaneously said, “Oh.”

We were already halfway up the mountain so we rode over to the lodge to check on our buddy. We got there and saw Sto looking decently chipper. I looked at him and said, “Oh, dude, I’m so sorry… What the hell is that ghetto ass cast you have on?” He has the most make-shifty sling on, his arm was in a brace made out of cardboard box that looks like Costco soda pop tray quality, and the brace was tied to his neck with something that looks like cheese cloth AND they padded the box with a piece of old shag carpet. Apparently that’s what they do for people breaking themselves, they barely bandage you up, don’t give you any painkillers and send you off to find your own way to the hospital. After checking to see that his arm isn’t in danger of falling off, I mentioned, “I call dibs on being the first to draw a penis on your cast.”

Edit: You know...now that I think about it, the nice-rack guy could possibly be gay too, which could explain why he felt like he was entitled to staring at my chests and talking about them for a good five minutes. So, all you straight men out there, if you want to cop a free feel here and there, just tell the women you're gay, because apparently that excuses all polite societal behavior. Also, Sto is doing great, we shuttled his car and stuff back...got him to the hospital where the doctors didn't find anything broken they think he must have dislocated something that popped back or torn a ligament due to the insane amount of swelling he had in his arm.

New Career Option

2006-12-06T08:25:00.000-08:00

I’m back. I was starting to feel like maybe something has shifted, perhaps the recent storm in Saturn has caused some kind of cosmic shift and I am no longer the creepy guy magnet. Perhaps my turning to a pesco-tarian (cheater-vegetarian) has some kind of hidden karma impact. Shyeah…I’m pretty sure even if I shave my hair and become a vegan Buddhist nun wearing a giant burlap sack, I will still draw in the creepy guys, my magnetic power varies depending on the season, but it’s always there. It’s my lesser known super power. Yay, me.

What sparked on this new power discovery aside from god-awfully bad pick-up lines? Which, just between you and me, I pretty sure the guy wanted to call me Justin because he’s a homophobe with a little boy fetish.

Well…it started much much longer ago, but things have calmed somewhat, I had a lot of random strangers asking to rub my head when I first shaved it…but that was pretty much the weirdest. Then last night, as I was leaving my climbing gym, I got a call from my sister who wanted to talk about a potential new restaurant site, so I figured I could stop by her sushi joint for some sushi and for a quick chat. When I got there, there were a few people sitting at the bar that I had to say hi to. As I was chatting with this sweet gay man named, Rueben who was complimenting my haircut because he hadn’t seen me in a while, this random dude cut in and said to me, “NICE RACK!” Rueben and I stopped chatting and stared at the guy while he lowered his voice just a touch, “No, really, you have a really nice rack.” I started laughing and said, “Well, thanks a lot, my girls don’t get enough compliments, that’s really sweet of you.”

Mind you, when I left the gym I intended to head home to shower, so I was still wearing my sports bra which looks like its solution to keeping a woman’s breasts out of the way during sports activity to is push ALL of the breasts up around the lady’s neck. So this guy drooling on me isn’t shocking. Still Rueben and I tried to continue our conversation with him asking when did I get my haircut but the guy stood there still staring at my chest and said, “I can’t stop staring at them, they’re just beautiful.” Okay, I used to frequent bars and clubs in very skimpy clothing, so I’m used to guys ogling my breasts, but it’s really something else when you’re at a sushi restaurant chatting with a friend and there’s a guy looming over you that can’t stop talking about or staring at your breasts.

I pulled my tank top up around my neck and moved over to the sushi bar area to have some food with my sister. I was starving. Before I could start chowing down, one of her customer (not the same boobies perv) came over to talk to her and she politely introduced me as her sister. The guy looks at me and said, “You have the most gorgeous lips.” I thanked him. He said, “Really, you have the most beautiful lips.” Okay… he was ogling my lips in a creepier fashion than the nice-rack guy. Then he said, “I teach a seminar on *gestures with hand in back and forth motion over mouth, fingers forming an “O” shape*”. I said, “Oh, gee…that’s nice.” My sister said, “What!?” I almost kicked her for unknowingly encouraging him. The guy said, “Yeah, I teach people how to suck cocks. You have such nice full lips, you should come model for me.” I’m not sure I was ever one of those girls that dreams about strangers asking them to model for them…but I can tell you, I’ve obviously sat up at night praying that some stranger would ask me to be their cock-sucking model…and my prayers have finally been answered. Hallelujah! Then he asked if we’re really sisters, because we would be so much hotter if we were lesbian lovers.

I can’t make this shit up.

Snowshoes!

2006-12-03T22:40:00.000-08:00

Today I went snowshoeing with my buddy Daniel. We noticed quite a few patches of yellow snow and we diagnosed a recent snowshoer as suffering from severe dehydration or radiation.

Photos from the trip here. Photo collection contains important trail information such as the actual location name according to the some 5-year-old boy walking by with a trusty pocket knife.

Oh Brain Cells, Where Have You Gone?

2006-12-02T10:38:00.000-08:00

Friends don’t let friends snark while drunk. I woke up this morning and found this email that I composed last night while drunk off my ass and felt extremely grateful I had the good senses not to have hit the “Send” button before stumbling to bed. Apparently when I got home I checked my email and found one from a buddy of mine, and in my usual style of flowery compliments I wrote a snarky reply thinking I am a dear sweet genius. Reading the email this morning reminds me that drunk people just aren’t that funny. In fact, this drunk person was just flat out stupid.
I think I’m going to blame the bar I was hanging out at last night for my stupidity, aside from helping me kill much of my brain cells, I also had some of the worst pick-up lines used on me. The one that made me wince in pain on the guy’s behalf had to be this black dude stopping me as I was walking by, “Can I call you Justin? Because you’re bringing sexy back.” Dear sweet baby Jesus…my IQ went down by ten points just from hearing that.
Oh, before we hit that bar, we were at the very swanky Waterfront Grill bar. My sister's married friends were crazy drunk. The husband was loud, in my personal space and kept shouting that his wife's parents are still having sex THREE TIMES A WEEK - because obviously the world is a better place for having that knowledge.

Chicken Claws

2006-11-30T22:39:00.000-08:00

Help me. My arms have gone retarded. I went climbing yesterday with my buddy and after our arms were cramped and useless we went to play some pool. We left early because the pool hall was dead and we figured the bartender wanted us to leave to close out the joint - so we decided to wander to a bowling alley. When we got there, the shoe keeper guy told us they were closing out the joint in half an hour because of the snowstorm…oh did I mention we were out and about during a Seattle snowstorm? My buddy asked if I still wanted to bowl for half hour, I said, “Eh, why not? We could just whale it fast as we can.” Since the bowling alley was also dead, the shoe keeper told us we could just have two lanes and go nuts.

We bowled three of the fastest games ever and I had a pathetic chicken claw for a hand by the end. I kicked my buddy’s ass…and since I’ve never beaten him in bowling before, I rubbed it in really good. Yeah, don’t let me win at anything, I’m a terrible winner. Even if you beat me a hundred times and I manage to win once, I’m going to bring up that ONE damned time whenever I get a chance.

It was obvious everywhere we went that Seattle was shutting down due to the half an inch of snow on the ground but we didn’t want to call it a night…because snow is magical dammit and it’s just nice to be out. The best part was driving through Capitol Hill and seeing all these people outside having snowball fights. It’s fun to read other people’s account of the night:

“so last night about 20-30 people gathered on the intersection of denny and bellevue to cheer on all the cars trying to make it up the hill. lots of older cars spinning wheels and the crowds were yelling in support. no bad accidents, just a couple cars sliding straight into the curbs. best part is when a hummer came charging up the hill at a good speed. the crowd booed loudly and threw a couple snowballs. lol.”

My car got snowballed but my buddy was jonesing for a snowball fight so it was all good and fun. That’s the beauty of snow, it brings out the kid in everyone.
Of course it had to rain during our food run because heaven forbid there should be that much magic in the world.

I just got back from still more climbing with another buddy…typing with chicken claws is a lot harder than one might think.

Lazy Jackass

2006-11-28T13:07:00.000-08:00

I promised myself I would sit down and write today as a creative exercise…then I woke up and stuck my hand out to test the air temperature and decided it was not safe to leave bed. Surely I would get frostbites on my feet and would have to have them amputated. Bit dramatic yes, but early-morning-cocooned-in-bed logic tends to weave tragic tales of loss and sorrow if it involves unraveling self from warmth. Then after a good hour of, “I should get up and write,” and “Dear god it’s too fucking cold,” it was time to get up to get ready for work.

Since it snowed pretty heavily last night, with much of the drive home being a major death trap, I checked my email before I got ready. Snow day! The weather actually looks great but I guess all the snow created ice patches everywhere and most of my team opted to stay home. So of course I did a little dance then went downstairs to play Nintendo Wii with my little brother. I beated the crap out of him in boxing and rubbed it in his face (he’s 11, he needs to be taken down).

Then after I ran out of random things I have to do, I finally sat my ass down to write. I’ve been so lazy about writing and laziness causes more laziness which really gets on my nerves. I’m such a sneaky lazy bastard that I piss myself off at times. I still hike every weekend, which leads my friends in believing I’m not lazy, what they don’t realize is, there have been times when I sit at the trailhead parking lot and I have an argument going on in my head about how cold and rainy it is and how there might be snow and ice on the trail…blah blah… Soon as I take the first step on the trail all mental debates end and life is great, but it’s not always easy getting there.

Writing is something I enjoy immensely and it helps to jog my brain a bit in the morning, but like all exercise plans, once you fall out of the habit, it’s a bit tough to get back in. I did notice one thing during my long mental break…I’ve noticed that when I was consistently blogging my brain takes note of everything that happens in my life like I was constantly writing a story about things as I live. When I stopped writing, that note taking voice in my head stopped…like it stopped observing and examining life and quietly lived it which is good in some aspect, but I do buy into the (pompous philosopher quoting jackass alert) Socratic philosophy of "An unexamined life is not worth living."

Still, I have missed you, hope life has been treating you well.

Conditioned Response

2006-11-07T23:27:00.000-08:00

Ahhh…yet another long lull in my blogsphere. I finally got around to reading this book that I picked up nearly a year ago - of course it would be appropriately named “The Now Habit”. So far, I really enjoy it.

I think I can relate to it a lot in the sense that lately, I’ve been feeling like I’ve got too much to do, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do anything. Yes, vicious cycle to the teeth. I’m supposed to start shopping for a space for my restaurant/lounge/whorehouse that I’m planning to open, but I’ve been dragging ass on it, claiming to be busy or not know where to start…when I’m just plain scared. I’m not sure what yet…one would think the obvious answer is “failure” but I’m not sure that’s it. Procrastination is sometimes an unconscious attempt at dealing with fear. Hmmm, me being scared, this should be interesting.

Today is my boss’ 50th birthday. To congratulate him, a bunch of my coworkers stuffed his office full of balloons – some seven hundred plus of them. He took one look at it and went away for meetings all day. I have the cube right in front of his office and I get the pleasure of hearing random balloons pop ALL DAY. Half-way through the day, I felt like I was part of some kind of Little Albert psychology experiment…where if I would even hear someone bounce a balloon I would cringe. At the end of the day, my boss came back and they had a balloon popping party. The next clown that hands me a balloon is going to get decked, then tied down while I administer nails on chalkboard.

Just Thinking

2006-10-29T21:05:00.000-08:00

Sorry for slacking on the updates again. I supposed this whole novelty of blogging thing is wearing off on me, and it’s now the old cool toy that lost its appeal. I’ve been in a bit of a reflecting mood lately and less writing.

I think I’m hitting another of life’s milestone…if there is such a thing. Like I always think that people hit a milestone around age 25 of their life where they suddenly decide everything that they think is right suddenly is wrong…I warn buddies looking for serious relationships against dating girls 24-26. Now that I’m 30, I’m suddenly looking at my career path and questioning the hell out of it. I still love making games, it makes the geeky kid in me giggle – yet it’s not fulfilling my dreams as an adult to make some kind of difference in the world. I’m supposed to start looking for a place for my restaurant, but I’m wondering how that fits in my wishes to contribute to the well-being of the world. So I’m thinking.

Gear Whoring

2006-10-18T22:58:00.000-07:00

I finally got off my ass over the weekend and picked up a full set of climbing gear because you know…it’s practically winter and all here so maybe I can hug gear for warmth since it’s pretty much worthless in this weather. In another month or so I should think about shopping for some bikini. I’ve been a bit of a gear mooch when it comes to climbing and with my favorite climbing buddy waaaay the fuck in California and my other sometimes climbing buddy just married, I realize I need to pick up my own gear. I’ve been having some crappy luck finding a new climbing buddy so I figured if I got my own gear, I can train one of my current outdoorsy buddy to climb with me. That or I’ll beg my Cali buddy to marry me and move back here to climb with me. I hope he’s not married or something because I’ll have to run some poor gal over. How many years of vegetarianism does it take to erase that kind of bad karma? Yeah, so back to finding a new belay buddy and buying climbing gear.

First thing first, must buy rope! Rope is a good thing, the way I see it, if I fall under hard times, I can always use some rope to bind some kidnapped victim to be held for ransom. Yeah! What I didn’t expect is that climbing ropes are the bling blingiest rope amongst ropes and the price reflected it. If I do go broke, I’ll just bring the damned rope back to REI, demand a full refund and live in style for a while…screw this hostage business. So what fancy rope did I pick up? Well…it’s this dual-weave thingie meaning it has a different design on each half of the rope so climbers know where the midpoint is. The rope costs 230 bucks, I had no idea they cost that much. Then again, that is the ONE thing keeping you from plummeting to your death…so let’s not be stingy there.

Another important thing? Quickdraws. A single quickdraw isn’t all that expensive, say 25 bucks, but when you think about needing a dozen…ouch. Still that’s the doohickey holding your rope to the rock, so skimping here might not be so smart either.

So now that I’ve got gear that I can’t use, I need to shop for a belay buddy, I wonder if REI carries one of those.

Swerve

2006-10-17T23:20:00.000-07:00

I’m going vegetarian for a week. Being as huge of a carnivore as I was, one would think it would be hard. In actuality, it hasn’t been tough at all…the key thing I’ve noticed in pushing for vegetarian eating is to not eat out so much. For lunch I usually make my own sandwich, and I make extremely elaborate sammiches with fresh cucumber, red bell peppers, sprouts and pesto, it’s just damned good.

Why the sudden jump? Well…as I’ve mentioned in some past blog posting, I’ve been trying to add some veggie in my diet here and there and enjoying it. Most of that came from my realizing that if I take care of myself now, I could enjoy better health when I’m old instead of wishing I did that. Then over the weekend, I accidentally ran over a squirrel/chipmunk cute little furry creature while driving out to my hike. He kinda ran out from nowhere then paused in the middle of the road. We were going downhill on a one lane gravel road, I couldn’t swerve and the gravel didn’t help with sudden braking, I was fishtailing all over the place even at 10mph. So in the end, I ran over the poor thing. I screamed and hit the brake and screamed some more. Charlie went out to check on it, I followed behind crying. He got to it first and told me I didn’t want to see it. I went back to the car while Charlie moved the poor body off the side of the road. Needless to say I feel bad. How does a person make up for driving off to the forest and killing its creature? I honestly don’t know, but I figured not eating meat to honor the life of the little guy helps. It’s a small bandaid for my soul so I can sleep a little better at night.

I grew up in a traditional Chinese household where we raised random small farm animals (mostly chicken and rabbits) in our yard and killed them for food, so I’m not squeamish about whacking an animal here and there. I have deep respect for the animal that gave life for my food, I don’t pretend my food comes in faceless packages from the grocery store. My guilt comes not so much that I killed one of the forest creatures, it’s more that I killed it by accident for nothing. I told Charlie that had we been able to turn the creature to food, I would probably felt better. He said I could go back and cook it, but there’s not much meat in the thing. So a week’s worth of my sparing some other creatures life for one poor innocent life…if nothing else, the dead creature gained some good karma for his afterlife.

So far, I think the hardest thing about jumping to vegetarianism is the people around me. My meat-eating coworkers are constantly giving me grief that I’m causing a major cosmic imbalance by not eating meat. As one coworker puts it, “You were our spokesperson. Our star quarterback! We need you back on our team!” My sister is by far the worst. While I’m eating a veggie roll at her sushi bar, she’ll bring out dishes of sashimi, eat it slowly, and tell me about how amazingly fresh the wild sock-eye salmon are. Still, I have gone out to nice restaurants and I am pleasantly surprised with how many good vegetarian dishes there are out there when one cares to look.

In response to the hockeyman’s comment one of my previous post…I’d like to take credit for being a marketing genius…but before I even composed that post, the views on that one picture had been higher than ANY other picture in my collection. Yeah, I’ve got over 600 pictures from glorious hikes, rain, snow, fog, nature’s bounty, with many links to all the pictures from my blog. Nothing compares to a picture of two girls in very short skirts.

Hmmm, now that I think about these people taunting me about my new eating habits, I should warn them that I could run them over.

Edit: Random side note, I almost titled this post "TofuGirl" as a SteakGirl contrast...but then I remembered that's an extremely derogatory slang for lesbian in Chinese, so I figured I'll forgo the smart-ass naming.

Rachel Lake and Rampart Ridge

2006-10-17T23:16:00.000-07:00

This hike is stupid easy, it was very pretty, but because it was so damned easy, I don’t really recommend it. The original intention of the hike was to find Hibox Peak, which we didn’t see any hint of a trail for. Then we thought maybe Mount Alta, but we couldn’t find that either. Being that I have THREE books on this hike and didn’t bring any of them nor did I bring my GPS to find that route, I really have no excuses other than the fact that I suck. So we had a nice stroll in the park. Round trip to Rampart Lakes was 11 miles, so I guess the distance made up for the sad elevation gain. The day was still gorgeous and being outside is always good.

Short slide of hike here.

With Love

2006-10-10T08:32:00.000-07:00

Forgive my unusual lack of update…I’ve been busy with nothing. You know the kind of busy, where you feel like you have a ton of crap to do, but you get not a god damned thing done. That’s me. In the mean time, because I feel like I’m “busy” I can’t take a moment out to compose a nice little blog. So until I get my bearings back, have a good day, and my…you seem to have lost some weight. Looking good!
Oh, and those of you checking out my Flickr account, seriously, stop trying to peek at my underwear. Shame on you.

Vesper Peak

2006-10-01T14:01:00.000-07:00

As I had mentioned in some Headlee Pass post, I wanted to hike up to Vesper Peak, but had to stop at the pass because I started extremely late and had flat out ran out of time. Well, I also forgot to mention that when I hiked my sorry as up 2.5 miles to the pass and finally got a view of the peak off in the distance with a traverse across loose rock field…my mind went, “Oh hell no!” Loose rock field is creepy especially with a deep mountain valley to catch your sad tumbling body. Then looking at the mountain it seems a bit insane to just walk up the face of that thing. I was scared. So of course I had to go back ASAP!

Saturday was foggy and hazy everywhere, I think it’s the first less than awesomely sunny day since my sad backpacking trip. I think I’ve got some kind of weird cool hike curse where the fogs roll in and follow me. Some people have storm clouds following them. I get the fog of war…it’s like playing StarCraft, except wherever the mouse goes, you stop seeing stuff.

If you don’t care for the view so much, hiking in the fog is actually nice, it made the hike back up to Headlee Pass super easy with the nice cool air. The best part of it all was it made the rock traverse easy because my problem with that area is looking at the depth and getting freaked out by my stupid fear of height. You can’t be afraid of height when you can’t see how high up you are. At some point in the middle of the traverse I laughed at myself for being afraid in the first place. The fog stayed pretty thick from the pass to the peak, so I couldn’t see too far out in every direction…just kept hiking upwards. Overall, I thought some of the reviews of this hike made it sound a lot harder than it is. It’s an awesome hike, and I’ll definitely do it again maybe next year on a clear day.

Hidden somewhere in this hike is some good old fashion mountain philosophy for life...sometimes when you look too far ahead, things can scare you into not moving, if you just look at the next few steps and keep moving, you'll find that things are neither scary nor hard.

Slide of hike here.

New Habit

2006-09-26T19:01:00.000-07:00

Something my coworker said to me today struck me as a bit funny…he asked me if I was getting used to my new hair. I’m thinking am I getting used to laughing myself out of the shower because I don’t have to spend half of my life shampooing my hair? I told him, “Well, I don’t have to look at myself, so there’s not a lot to get used to on my part.” The one weird thing I did mention that I’m still adjusting to is…I sometimes catch people staring at me…and I’m thinking, “What? Do I have something on my face?” Oh wait…it’s because I don’t have hair.

Headlee Pass

2006-09-26T18:23:00.000-07:00

I got up on Sunday with the bad taste of our Vancouver trip ending in my mouth. I was also oddly tired so I bummed around for a bit. Then I realized it’s stupid to bum around. So I decided to go for a day hike. I’ve been wanted to hit Vesper Peak for a while so I figured that could be good. However due to the excessive bumming and Sunday being my lazy day and all, I didn’t get to the trailhead until nearly 2 in the afternoon. I brought my headlamp because I figured if the trail wasn’t too rough, I could still maybe go for summit.

The trail is beyond rough. The easier parts of it involved navigating through numerous creeks with random wood pieces haphazardly draped across it, like a death trap pretending it could aid a hiker in crossing but will give under the smallest amount of weight. I sank in past ankle deep water while stepping on one of these wood pieces (thanks again, gaiters, you are the love of my life).

After the treeline, the trail winds through some brush which claws and bites at hikers. Beyond the brush are loose gravels/boulders galore. Those that have read my blog knows loose gravels and I are sworn enemies. Random cairns marked the path, but it would be hard to try to locate in the dark. Seeing how difficult it could be to navigate, I figured I could just wait to hit summit another day…Headlee Pass would make a good turn around point.

Because I cut the hike short, it wasn’t nearly as much of a workout…but hiking still does good stuff for my soul. It helps me focus on what’s important. Take the border patrol…sure he was being an asshole, but I shouldn’t let him ruin my really good trip with my sister. We had a great time, those are the memories that are important…those are what should stick in my head. Hiking is good for that…it takes away the anger and leaves everything else behind. In the grand scheme of life, one bad border patrol shouldn't overshadow time well spent with family.

Slide of hike here.

Border Assholes

2006-09-25T22:35:00.000-07:00

The Friday after my backpacking trip ended up being a gorgeous day, which I should probably be upset over since that meant had I stayed on the trail, it might have been okay. I don’t know if I felt bad about cutting out early, especially looking at the soggy mess when I tried to clean all the muddy gear in the morning. I didn’t think I would have enough time to sufficiently dry out everything and be in good shape. Regardless, my sister called me up and asked if I wanted to go Vancouver with her to pick up some stuff for her bar, so we drove up Friday night to party and ate tons of wonderful food and went shopping for stuff on Saturday.

We went to this nice club in downtown Vancouver which was playing the best RB/Hiphop mix I had heard in a very damned long time. Soon as we hit the bar, a guy came up to me and asked if he could rub my head for good luck. I told him, “No, I don’t know where that hand has been.” He started apologizing over and over for being rude and asked to buy me a drink. I told him he didn’t have to but, he did.

Toward the end of the night, some random drunk guy came up to me and rubbed my head…WTF? Then when my sister and I were dancing next to this table, one guy said, “Wow, I love your hair. Can I buy you ladies a drink?” Hmmm…note to self, if I’m ever too broke to afford my own drinks, just shave my hair. My sister and I had an awesome time at the club, drinking and dancing.

The next morning, we went out for some dimsum, for those that don’t know, Vancouver has some of the best Chinese food because of their huge Hong Kong population. Back before 1997, a lot of the rich Hong Kong people freaked out when the place was being handed over from England back to China, so those that could afford it, immigrated the hell out…mostly to Canada.

While we were having dimsum, some of the ladies pushing the pastries carts around would come by and they would stare dumbly at my head. A girl with shaved head confuses them…I think they probably think I’m a Buddhist monk…except I’m ordering meat dishes. So they naturally assumed I’m just not Chinese, because no decent Chinese girl would shave their head. They kept speaking broken English to us despite the fact that I speak perfectly good Chinese. It’s like they are culturally disowning me.

We went shopping afterwards at this huge Chinese mall where everyone bore holes in the back of my head from their very intense stares. EVERYONE. Even my sister commented, “Oh my god, they can’t seem to stop staring, they don’t even care if you see them staring.”

Still, it was a great trip with good food…right until the end. The border patrol decided to stop us because my sister was driving a very pimped out loaner Cadillac Escalade (loaner because her Escalade is still in the shop). Not only did they search the car inside out, when the guy came back in after finding nothing he searched our purses. They weren’t going to find a damned thing, we were so clean we squeaked. Both of us could pass a blood and urine test at that point. Okay, I understand the border patrols are doing a good thing by keeping our borders safe, but this guy was a nit-wit ass-wipe. I didn’t care that he searched my purse; I didn’t carry a lot of crap in there. He actually took every article out and asked about each of them. Like my cellphone, he opened it…saw my camera phone picture, and asked who the snowboarder was. “That would be my lesbian girlfriend with long hair, dickhead.” Of course I told him it was me. Then he said some retarded shit like, “You think snowboarding is fun because it’s dangerous?” WTF? Yeah, I like living dangerously, does that mean I have a kilo of heroin in the car? Then the shithead took out my camera and turned it to see if I have pictures in them. What the hell? Was he hoping for pictures I had posing next to the world’s tallest cannibis plant? The memory card was empty, but what if I took personal pictures with them? I was beginning to feel very violated.

Then the stupid idiot pulled out my oil-blotting paper and asked, “What’s this? This is rolling paper.” He seemed so fucking pleased with himself to have found incriminating evidence. I told him, “No, those are oil blotting paper, it’s make-up on paper by Shiseido.” He pulled out a sheet, like he intended to send it to the lab or something. I told him, “Look at it, one side has powder on it.” He insisted it looked like rolling paper. My sister commented, “We don’t smoke, I don’t understand why people would roll cigarettes when you can buy them all packed anyhow.” He said he thinks they’re being used to roll joints. We tell him to ask one of the ladies, they’ll know what blotting paper is. He asks…the lady he asked didn’t know about this blotting paper, but she told him flat out that’s definitely NOT rolling paper. Fucktard! He sniffs it and said, “Yeah, it doesn’t smell like it.” Then packs my stuff back and hands my bag to me. I have very low opinion of border patrols now. Fucking asshole!

Buck Creek Pass

2006-09-25T22:30:00.000-07:00

After a good and proper head shaving, what’s a girl gotta do to properly celebrate? Why go for a long solo backpacking trip of course. I had all this big and elaborate plans to backpack the Spider Meadow – Buck Creek Loop…which would be 44 miles in 4 days.
My trip plan was something like this:
Day 1: 10 miles to Buck Creek Pass
Day 2: 10.5 miles to Image Lake
Day 3: 14 miles to Spider Gap
Day 4: 9.5 back to car

While hiking 14 miles in one day seems a bit insane with a full pack, that particular section is almost completely flat - the worst part of it would be the first day with the most elevation gain. I wanted to head out on Monday, but the weather was dreadful and the forecast said maybe tomorrow will be better. Tuesday rolled around and the weather was just as bad with a forecast that the next day could be better. Wednesday came and same thing…with a 4 day trip in mind, I couldn’t sit around any longer so I decided to bite the bullet and pray for good weather.

The drive out to that loop was insane, it took over 4 hours to get there…I was on the trail around 3:30p.m. and I had 10 miles to cover. So I hiked. It drizzled most of the first 3 hours then it became a downpour when night time hits. Because it had rained for the past 3-4 days, the trail was a nice goopy mess with mud often coming up to my ankles, thank God for gaiters. I have to say, I worried a lot about solo hiking for hours in the dark, but it wasn’t bad at all. By the time I got to Buck Creek Pass and found the campsite and got my tent all setup, it was 9:30p.m. I figured that to be not too bad of a time for a little gal carrying fucking 35lbs worth of gear with 5 days worth of food.

I did a big no-no thing and cooked dinner in my tent - yeah, I know gas poisoning danger blah blah…but by 9:30, it wasn’t merely raining up in the mountain pass, it was rain combined with strong wind…you know the kind of wind that could diverge a heavy downpour to aim straight up your ass. Warm food in a cozy tent when it’s raining out is nice. I set up my mattress and sleeping bag and slept like a happy log…until 2:30a.m. Dear god, I forgot to go pee before I went to bed. I heard the wind howling against my tent and cringed, not wanting to drag myself out of my warm cocoon…but I had to go so badly. So out in the pouring freezing rain I went. Thanks for the free enema, but I brought my own T.P. After that, I slept so damned well…there isn’t any lullaby as sweet as rain on a tent.

I woke up at 7:30 and the rain was still going strong. Damn you, rain, go away, I appreciate the good sleep and all, but you can go now. I snuggled back hoping maybe it’ll go away in another hour. 8:30 rain seems to be slowing down, I figured I should hunt down some water since it was hard to locate the previous night in the dark. Finally around 9:30 or so, the rain stopped. I almost did a little dance – but then it started snowing. The world turned to a white flurry. I had to throw in my gloves and decided to head home. I could suck it up and deal with the rain, but I fear getting snowed in up in the pass – everything I had was soaked or damp from the constant rain, they started freezing up with the snow. So I packed up all my crap and made for home. My pack which was previously 35 lbs was probably closer to 40 lbs by the end of my trip due to all the rain-soaked gear. I probably packed out another 50 lbs or so of mud too – because what girl could resist free mud? When I got home, I found that I skinned one side of my hip from where the extra heavy pack was resting. Overall, cold snow and blistery hips aside, I had a really good time. I enjoyed solo backpacking a lot more than I thought I would. Pretty soon, I’ll move out to the woods, grow my own carrots and make my own bombs.

The one really cool thing about this trip is I saw two guys on the trail…they were doing the trip that I thought I might consider doing one day which is hike the entire PCT trail. They started in Mexico back in May 15th…I told them they were making some damned awesome time. They said, “Yeah, but it snowed on us the last 3 days.” I can’t imagine how hard it must be for them. I saw that they had only packed an open face tarp to save weight…that means any time they have freezing rain or snow combined with gusty wind, they get soaked. Still, I’m very happy for them that their trip is almost complete and from the current weather forecast, they should have at least another week of awesome weather.

Slide of hike here.

Happiest Freak Show

2006-09-25T21:25:00.000-07:00

My cubicle was the freak show today. I wasn’t too shocked being the first day back at work after being gone for a week…and people seeing my shaved head for the first time. A few coworkers came over and petted my head saying, “I can’t resist.” I figured it’s payback for all those years I petted guys’ heads. One coworker came by saying, “I’m not sure why… Oh, I get it now. Wow!” Apparently my boss told him to come see me…just to see me. People from the other end of the building came by to see because they heard from so-and-so…and everyone that stopped by asked why I decided to shave my head. Overall, people reacted well, but there was definitely a reaction, unlike a typical haircut where usually only the girls comment on. In our weekly team meeting today, I was the only girl and my hair was the shortest in the entire room.

I did make a point to yell at one of my backpacking buddy for not informing me of how wonderful it is to have short hair for hiking, his response, “Oh it’s not only good for hiking.” Damn men! Damn you all for not telling me. He did mentioned that he assumed it’s common knowledge that short hair rocks. I don’t think people with long hair truly understand how much it rocks.

While I was at the gym today…I actually washed my hair for the first time. I normally can’t do that, I would shower at the gym, but have to shower “for realz” when I get home because my hair requires special shampoo and conditioner that costs 50 billion dollars then it would take another 8.9 hours of drying and primping to make it look good. Now, it’s more like, “You got soap? Any kind of soap? Even dish soap would work.” Rub dry with a small paper towel. Done. Life is good. Happiness is having super low maintenance hair.

Baldy Is Alive!

2006-09-25T08:58:00.000-07:00

I haven’t written in so long, especially after shaving all my hair off, that one might suspect I’ve crawled into some sort of hole (head first) and died. This is quite the opposite of the truth. I’ve been out celebrating. I really, really, really, (a few more really) enjoy my lack of hair. In fact, I feel like going back to all my hiking and backpacking buddies and kicking them each in the nuts about 10 times a piece for not letting me know how much more joyful life is to have insanely short hair while out in the woods. The absolute best part of it all has to come down to the first bathroom visit after a good hike, you can just stick your head under the sink and rinse your entire head and feel amazing (works every damned time)!
So what did my mom have to say about all this after all my stressing? She’s said something to the effect of, “Oh, you cut it that short? It’s creepy.” Still, she was laughing at it, and honestly her reaction puts her decades ahead of the typical Chinese person – which I encountered a lot of while visiting Vancouver B.C. with my sister over the weekend. Chinese people don't understand a girl with shaved head, they ALL stared with their jaws hanging - even the waitresses at the Chinese restaurants did that, right next to our table. When I have a moment, I’ll put up a little vacation post.

Streamlining

2006-09-17T12:14:00.000-07:00

I’ve been talking about shaving my hair for so long now that it feels like it would never happen…it’s like I’ve been snapping my fingers to your face to get your attention. I’m sorry, I have breasts; if I want your attention, I know how to get it.

Part of why I just keep talking about it, is because my blog sometimes serve as a written internal dialogue to myself. It’s like I’m debugging myself in writing. I get it out in the open for myself to peruse and inspect, poke at it a couple of times with a stick, and find a solution to what my problem is…god knows I have tons of issues, my bug list is off the chart.

Initially I wanted to get my hair chopped off because it was becoming too much of a pain in the ass, I feel like I was wasting quality time maintaining it. Then I hated the fact that my hair didn’t feel like hair due to many years of bleaching and dying, I missed my natural hair. I thought it would be nice to just cut it real short…then I thought why not just shave all off? Then I got scared. I was scared of shaving my hair. I was afraid that it would leave me less pretty. That pissed me the hell off. I have a problem with my being afraid of something like not having my hair. I felt that I was trivializing what I feel like I have to offer the world (like my fine ass). I guess I was questioning how I see my self worth.

I set a date with my best friend for the shave a short while back but chickened out at the last minute because I was deathly afraid of freaking my mom out. Of course a small part of me was freaking out. Since then, day by day, little by little, my various fears have been eating away at me until I have to turn around and kick it in the nuts. It’s simply not me to let things gnaw at me forever.

So I got off my ass and told my mom about the haircutting thing and warned her it would be less than half an inch long. I set another date to cut my hair with Brian. I told him I wanted to do it this weekend. Then I got that last minute permit to climb Mount St. Helens, so I figured I could go climb that in the morning and get my hair cut that night. I figured a nice long solo hike would allow me to clear my head and give me a chance to rethink this whole excess hair removal process. I tried to make sure I wasn’t doing this as a self dare…in other words, I gave myself the option to not go for it if I had any doubt in my mind. I had the three hours drive each way to and from the volcano and the six hours hike to do some thinking. In the end, I felt that if anything, my hair cut was long overdue and I just really wanted it off.

I got back to Seattle around 7…met up with Brian at 10. Being my best friend and all, he didn’t try to talk me into or out of anything, he simply chatted with me to make sure I knew what I was doing and that I really wanted it done. He had all sorts of shaving stuff out. We discussed how close of a shave I wanted. He warned me that because I had gotten so tanned, if I shaved it too close to the skin, my super white scalp might create too much of a contrast…not to mention in his experience he always liked the one week after a close shave look more. So we decided he was going to go through my hair with his various beard trimmer accessories…going shorter as we go, until we find the length that I liked.

We drank some wine. I tied my hair up, braided it, cinched it again and off it went. I was oddly not nervous the whole time. We both knew there’s the possibility that it could go bad…that Brian could be consoling me at the end of the night. Hell, I even told him, if it goes badly, instead of going out for beer, he’ll go fetch it, and we’ll order pizza and be happy. It all turned out well. With the interim cuts and pictures, I know my hair will grow out well. There were various points where I was looking pixie-ish and I could have stopped with a cute cut, but I wanted my hair shaved at least for a moment. In the end, we stopped at about quarter inch. I’ve got this funny tan line at where my braided hair parts but…I like my hair short.

We went out for beer afterward while I sat around and massaged my scalp all night. So good…holy cows…the wind in my scalp…I’m so streamlined. And without my further ado because I love you all:

Mount St. Helens

2006-09-17T10:53:00.000-07:00

Mount St. Helens was a wonderful day hike. It’s tough but not too tough. The entire trip took me six hours including the snack/lunch break I had up top…although if you’re not in hiking shape, I wouldn’t count on that time. I ran into my coworker and her friends on the way up, they had started about an hour and a half before me, and they were still making their way up when I was coming back down.

The day was extremely foggy, so I can’t say much about the view at all. I was actually a bit worried I would miss yet another summit because as I was going up…five different parties came back down, and from speaking to them briefly, none of them made it to the summit. All of them got nervous because of the dense fog and decided to turn around. Hiking on this volcano was quite different from many other hikes in that, there’s a lot of easy rock scrambling to do…and with rock scrambles, there’s not an obvious packed down trail. The trail is marked with tall wooden posts spaced ~20 yards apart which is a helpful guide on clear days, but yesterday, the fog was so dense it was hard to see from pole to pole. People turned back because it was hard enough to find the next pole, they were very worried they’ll lose the trail on the way back down. I brought my GPS so I just marked the poles as I went along, so that the worst that would happen was my not finding the next pole – at least I knew I could always find my way home.

The fog did slowly lift a bit through out the day, but never enough to allow for a spectacle view of where we stood. At the peak, we nearly got a glimpse of the center of the volcano, but then more fog quickly rolled in, and our hopes were dashed. It was such a sad moment, one moment I heard a girl yell to everyone up top, “Guys, look! Look!” Everyone peered over the ridge, “Ooooh.” And then nothing. It snowed quite a bit on my way back down, but about 2/3 of the way down, the sun lifted a bit and I actually saw bits of my surrounding for a change. What little I could see was glorious.

I brought my helmet as per instruction on the website, I was the ONLY one with a helmet. Not only was I the special kid on the mountain, but I was the special kid that has no friends. It would appear everyone else hiked with five generations of family or a 50 member pit crew complete with cheerleading squad. They all asked me if I was hiking alone. Yes, I have no friends, just let me put on my helmet before I hurt myself.

Hike slide here.

Ballistas of Doom

2006-09-15T15:19:00.000-07:00

So I was talking to a coworker of mine about hiking the other day because I saw her hiking Mount Si. She mentioned hiking Mount Saint Helens this Saturday, and I told her how jealous I was that she managed to snag a permit on time when my buddies and I have tried but they sold out. Apparently she and her friends got their permits a few months back…because they’re not lazy bastards like me…buuuut, they have one person that dropped out. Guess who got a permit!?

So I was looking at the Mount St. Helens website and they have a list of stuff that I should be bringing for my climb. The first item on the list is a climber’s helmet to “protect your head in the event of volcanic ballistics.” Now shouldn’t that read “Park closed”? Also as an old D&D geek who played one too many game of GURPs I know our head has a natural +2 armor because of our skull…so what about the rest of my squishy self in the event of volcanic ballistics? Of course the second item I need is a “Dust Mask”…that doesn’t look like armor class 10 to me.

Combine that hawt look with item number 3, Goggles, I'm one extra special looking kid. Yes, I've become that hypochondriac Chinese kid that can't go on a minor hike without wearing a helmet while worrying about catching the bird flu. Go, me!

According to the site…the volcano is still very much active, so um…wish me good luck.

Random side note, my sister lost yet another cellphone.

Oh, and I just picked up a new toy, because it's not like I'm flat-ass broke from buying all my stupid gear. I can't even afford Top Ramen at this point. But...I'm a material stuff whore and this was too sweet to pass up. As a DS programmer, this bright bright screen makes me happy while feeling like punching Nintendo in the jaw for always releasing a shoddy product first intentionally, then releasing their super slick version later.

Shakespeare in Love

2006-09-13T17:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was our company’s annual golf day. Every single year, I opt to pass on golfing because I’ve never touched a golf club before and I was always afraid to make a fool of myself in front of all my coworkers. This year, I thought…you know, I’ve tried so damned many new things this year that making a fool out of myself is like an old familiar friend…not to mention despite the fact that I look like an idiot, I’ve always had fun.

So I tried golfing…touched a “real” golf club (no, putt-putt golf does not count) for the first time. Yes, I most certainly did make a fool out of myself many times. Like a bad comedy movie, I stepped up to the ball and swung and hit the air, about 657 times before actually managing to hit the damned ball. I had a very good time. The day was simply beautiful. There were random moments when the day felt magical in this weird, “Holy cats, I’m not working on a Tuesday and I get to be outside in the beautiful weather learning how to golf.” It’s definitely worth making a fool out of yourself. Our company rented golf carts for ALL of us, so driving around recklessly trying to flip over the cart was fun too (really what else would a bunch of people that make video games for a living do?).

Being racially Chinese, I’ve been taught since a very young age to be very aware of others. Everything that I do…what will other people say? As I’m aging, I’m caring less. I still care about what certain people think of me. I care if my friends think I’m good friend. I care if my siblings think I’m a good friend and sibling to them.

I’ve been staring at the climbing wall on my gym for over a year and a half…wanting to climb but always afraid to because NO ONE else has climbed it…ever. I’m climbing the damned thing now. Yeah, I don’t care that the wall takes up an entire side of one wall and everyone stares at that wall. So everyone gets to see my ass hanging at strange angles and I fall off the damned thing shouting curses at it once in a while…big deal.

Most of all, I care a lot about what my mom thinks. I worry about worrying her. I try to not cause her random undue stress in her life – but I still have to live my life. I finally got off my cowardly ass and told my mom I wanted to cut my hair really really short. No, I did not use the word “shave” because tact is always a good thing when it comes to moms. She was…surprisingly understanding. I told her I was planning to cut my hair super short and I didn’t want her to freak out. She asked how short…I said, short like shorter than some boys’ cut short. She didn’t say anything so, I told her I really wanted to cut off all the red parts of my hair and just grow it back black, I’m just tired of having to bleach and dye my hair, it doesn’t even feel like hair anymore. She actually thought it was a great idea, she never liked us dying our hair in the first place. Why did I dye my hair when my mom didn’t approve of that? Well, I was in a different place in my life back then, I was in a screw-what-my-mom-thinks phase. She asked if I was worried about whether or not I could wear a boy’s hair style well…I told her I’m not worried, because my hair grows quick anyhow. She asked if my sister was cutting my hair for me, I told her no, because my sister felt like it was a waste of my longish hair to chop it all off. My mom didn’t seem to mind too much.

I know as an adult I should be able to live my life as I like, but mothers are precious beings that deserve some amount of respect. I simply feel like a better person when I don’t completely disregard my mother’s feelings.

I know this shaving my head thing is not going to help reverse my morphing to a man image…but I figured maybe I could milk it. Like I could enter drag queen contests…and outdo Gwyneth in playing a "girl who, who plays a boy who plays a girls" (quote from some radio commercial).

Sneaky Freeway Entrance

2006-09-10T23:33:00.000-07:00

Today, I biked for as long as my little legs could carry me - right onto a 520 freeway entrance. Yes, I’m a smart one. I figured that out when cars were whirling past me rapidly accelerating…then I see the road leading onto the floating bridge. Sure, they had all sorts of signs that warned cyclist to not enter, but you know…road signs when you’re in riding oblivion, they’re just suggestions until you get caught…or crushed by a speeding car.

Still, I’m really enjoying biking, and I really need to get a road bike. Having road bikers effortless pass you when you’re pedaling with all your might makes you want to throw sticks at their spokes (live action Paperboy!). I’ve been looking for a decent used Klein bike, but hawt damned, there aren’t that many short legged cyclists out there.

To Be A Man

2006-09-09T19:38:00.000-07:00

For the first time since about April, I woke up on Saturday and did NOT feel like hiking. My arms were sore because I tried to do some climbing at my gym yesterday…yeah I did all of one traverse and I was aching today. Yes, I am a pussy for whining like a little bitch over some minor muscle fatigue, but I haven’t felt a single muscle twinge since I first started hiking. I went kayaking for 1.5 hours and didn’t feel any stiffness in the shoulders, how the hell does ONE traverse hurt me?

My other excuse for not wanting to hike was that the sky looked angry. It looked like it had plans to do some rumbling, then dumping buckets of water on you, then shouting “Fuck you!” while hurling bolts of lightning at your feet. Angry. When the sky looked that pissed off at us mere mortals, the best thing to do is to stay in bed.

Of course, I couldn’t stay in bed. I got up and thought maybe I’ll try to hike Vesper Peak and maybe the clouds would clear up. As I was driving there, it started raining. Now I’m not a big wuss when it comes to rain, I’ll hike in any weather, but Vesper Peak calls for some heavy duty scrambling to the top…and trying to climb wet granite is suicidal in my book, so I made a detour. I beelined for Mount Si, because I couldn’t really think of where else I would like to go…and because I still didn’t feel like hiking.

The parking lot for Si was surprisingly empty, usually half of Seattle is hiking this mountain on Saturdays – I was betting everyone else was smart enough to stay in bed. I sat in the lot for a moment, thinking I really didn’t feel like hiking. I could just go home and crawl in bed, it would be so nice and I’ve hiked Si a billion times this year already. Pussy! Get the fuck out of the car now. I actually sat in my car and had an internal dialect with myself for about five minutes trying to get my ass outside to hike. Had the whiney bitch been anyone besides myself I would have kicked her out of my car and never call her hiking again…alas, it was my own sorry ass, and I managed to eventually drag myself out.

Not too surprisingly, once I was on the trail, I felt great. I felt so damned good, I started speed hiking, which is something I normally suck at because my legs are half the length of everyone. It was an awesome workout and for the first time since forever, I was passing up everyone along the way instead of the other way around. I was feeling so damned happy.

And then I got stung by a bee. Yeah, this happened out of nowhere, I didn’t even see a single bee on the trail. I was just hiking along, my hands gripping my trekking poles, when I felt this sharp pain on the side of my right hand. Since there was not another bee around, there couldn’t have been a hive to defend, so this bee just chose to commit suicide, on me. Okay, I understand that a bee’s lot in life must not be all that great, being their one purpose is to serve The Woman, so okay, if the bee is having some kind of meaning of life crisis…fine go kill yourself. But this is like someone jumping out at a car to kill itself, it traumatizes the poor driver…couldn’t bee have picked a better asshole to die on? Like that dude that talks business loudly on his cellphone while hiking? Why me? The worst part is, the suicidal bastard left his parts of his little furry ass on me…do you know have much that freaks a poor girl out!? Damn!

Still, I made it to the top in 1.5 hours…not super fast, but I was happy enough. It was nice and chilly up top, so I sat down and had a wonderful cup of hot chai. Life was great.

On the drive home, I had a weird craving for a white nectarine. So I stopped by the nearest grocery store. They had this wonderful floral section next to the fruits and I smelled the beautiful fragrance of fresh-cut flowers…then I smelled something less pleasant. It smelled like a homeless man. I stared suspiciously at the people near me…did they not bathe before going food shopping? Then I noticed the odor was following me…dear god, it was me. I sniffed the sleeves of my shirt…maybe I left the shirt in the washer for too long before drying it? Nope, it smelled like Tide, freshly laundered Tide. Then I realize, it was toward my back. Ewwww. It was from my backpack. I’m a sweaty monster, when you see me hiking with only my sports bra, it’s not to shame the other male hikers with my six pack, it’s because I’m overheating like mad and sweating enough to drown myself. The back and straps on my pack is ALWAYS drenched by the time I hit summit…I guess over time, all the collective sweat has turned my bag into a homeless man. I had been carrying a homeless man on my back all this time. Dear god, it’s terrible to smell so bad…I got so self-conscious – you know when you can smell it, it means you’re beyond stinky. I felt the need to apologize to other people, “Forgive me for being so stinky around your food.” Of course I did the best thing…which is pay and hurry the hell out. I had the privilege of smelling that god-awful funk all the way home. Lucky.

I got home and downloaded the picture I took at the top of Si. It would appear smelling like a homeless man has turned me into a man.

Club On!

2006-09-06T10:10:00.001-07:00

You know what’s sad… When the day is glorious, with the sun shining bright, and light breeze blowing by. The commute traffic is medium so you gather a nice speed increasing the wind flow ever so slightly while still moving the whole time. Then I find an old club mix on CD, and the music is pumping! The drum beats on and my heart is pounding! Whoooo-hooo! And I jump out on my work parking lot! Ready to program! Fuck yeah! Sad.

Summer, My Love

2006-09-05T22:01:00.000-07:00

It’s been happening a lot lately…I sit in front of the computer with the intention of composing a post…and I draw a blank. It’s like I ran out of shit to complain about, is that even possible? Maybe I’ve achieved perfect happiness…I’m at complete peace with the world. Hahahaha-hahaha-haha. *ouch* I hurt myself. Hell, I can talk smack myself all day, so how could I possibly run out of things to write?

Summer is nearing an end. *sob* How is that possible? Summer, you and I have only just gotten to know each other. Sure I bitch up a storm when you cause my armpits to sweat and I go into horrible writing coma when it gets 2 degrees above comfortable, but I’m a sweaty brat like that. And yeah, I’ve been plotting all sorts of winter backpacking trips but at least I do that all sneaky-like with emails behind your back and not out in the open while telling you to go fuck yourself. So please, stick around just a bit longer, the views from mountain tops are not the same in the autumn clouds.

I’ve rediscovered the joys of bike riding. I now feel like kicking all my friends that road bikes that never bothered telling me how much fun it is to just get out and ride – well, maybe one guy did, but I assumed he was on crack at the time because…who the fuck likes riding back before I discovered anyhow? Oh gosh, riding on the road is so wonderful – I’ve been a (really bad) mountain biker up till recently and as such I always rode in constant fear of losing all my teeth in a nasty spill. There is no fear of losing your teeth (limbs maybe) in road biking and the wind…wow, the wind in your hair and all over you is such an exhilarating feeling. I love riding on Lake Washington Blvd, because it’s relatively flat and the views are gorgeous and the cars are used to cyclist and the road just goes on forever… I used to cruise that blvd in my car and would stop at certain point but on a bike, I really didn’t want to stop…it’s that nice of a ride.

So of course now I’m pining away for a new road bike. I figured I can pick one up for hopefully cheaper at the end of the season. *cough*whensummergoesaway*cough*

View from Leschi Park
tonight -->

Mount Pugh

2006-09-05T09:15:00.000-07:00

You know what is the most painful part of hiking mountains? Being forced to turn back. It hurts so much, especially when you can see the summit just lurking around the corner. A couple weekends ago, I missed the Gothic Peak summit because of the creepy loose gravels, this time it was just straight-up fear. I freaked out near the summit of Mount Pugh.

The Sunday morning started with a slight foreboding hint. Both Daniel and I were oddly out of sorts, just tired. I was extremely sleep deprived because my sorry ass went out and got smashed on Friday night which for some reason, alcohol has a way of fucking with my sleep pattern. Daniel had been up packing for his trip out to the east coast. Still, after a mile or so into the trail we both felt better. The first 3.8 miles of the trail was extremely easy. Then it climbs aggressively toward Stujack Pass, this is where most people would stop. I couldn’t figure out why so many people would get so close to the summit only to turn back, this rarely ever happens on these types of hike.

Then I get to the knife-jack ridge leading up to the Pugh summit. Ever watch a movie where some chick was stuck on a crumbling balcony and some random dude would tell the chick to give him her hand and she sits there like an idiot staring down at the ledge? That was me. I have never been completely stupid struck like this in my entire life. The ridge up to Pugh wasn’t even technical at all, I’ve climbed way worse stuff, but the problem is, at some point, the ridge narrows to about two feet wide with crumbling dirt on each side, and I can see the steep drop on each side. I knew it was just my mind playing horrible tricks on me, and I knew it was easy enough to just keep moving, but my body would not respond. We stopped on the ridge for lunch in hopes that maybe I’ll get over my fears during that time, but it only made things worse. Sitting on the ridge and staring down at the valley some 6000+ ft below (keeping in mind, our Columbia Tower which is a 76 stories skyscraper is only 967 ft tall) made my stomach queasy as hell and it actually made the return trip off that ridge extremely slow, my limbs where stiff, retarded and doing just about everything it could to kill me.

So in the end, we didn’t hit summit (which stands at 7,201 ft tall) even though Daniel could have easily tagged it if he wanted to…the guy used to rappel and doesn’t understand acrophobia at all. We were less than half a mile from the top and had climbed 4800ft out of the 5400ft. Sucks, I’ll have to find a way to overcome this phobia and come back next year. This is one that will haunt me for a while, because it’s really one thing to have the trail get medieval on your ass, but it's an irritating something else when it’s your mind betraying you.

Slide of hike here. The entire world looks a bit hazy this day because of some major forest fire nearby. I highly recommend this hike if you don't have paralyzing fear of heights. It really was a fun hike.

The Cellphone Debate

2006-08-28T12:39:00.000-07:00

There are two types of cellphone owners, those that love the RAZR and those that HATE it!

I hate the fact that every single person on this planet owns the same phone that I have and I hate it even more that they didn't have to shell out a few hundred bucks for it. Still, I've had my RAZR for a long time now and I'm still very much in love with it. I love it because of one thing...it is virtually indestructible. I've dropped the thing so many times and yet it still ticks.

My sister has this weird phone curse where none of her phones last. One phone got dropped on the head so much it would randomly not allow her to hear the people calling her...so you call her and you hear her go: "Hello? Hello? Oh, sorry, my phone is acting up again, I know you can hear me, but I can't hear you. I'll call you right back in a sec." *click* Then her phone will work when she calls back. Ghetto! After a while it wouldn't even work when she calls back.

Her next phone, within a week of her getting it, she dropped it on a granite tile at this bar. I see her pick up her used-to-be clam-shell phone, it's now in two pieces connected by the wire that links the two. She had to talk in it like those kids cups with a string phone.

Finally, I convinced her she needed a RAZR because of its toughness. She didn't want to have the same phone as everyone, but couldn't resist when the pink ones came out. She was very happy with the phone for a while...dropped it right away and it lived. Then...she lost it.

I told her there's something very wrong with her... Her phones are either committing suicide or running away from home. Poor phones, "I can't take this anymore, I going to kill myself! Shit, I didn't die. Plan B: Run away!" Her phone insurance actually cut her off at some point...I didn't think they could do that.

Edit: Don't praise your electronics! They can NOT be praised. My phone died on me shortly after I wrote this entry. It was a battery thing. I've noticed that when I first got my phone, I could hike around the world on just one charge and still have juice left to talk smack about your mom...now I can't go to the grocery store without the battery dying. The battery problem would be not much of an issue if I still had my car charger, but I loaned that to my sister who lost her other charger...and then her car died and it has been in the shop for over 2 months now with my charger...yeah been there since this blog entry. So I had the battery replaced, bought myself another car charger and all is well, but I'm not praising that phone anymore. Also, what's up with my sister and her phones, charger, car and shit? Too weird.

McClellan Butte

2006-08-27T22:31:00.000-07:00

I just finished Into the Wild yesterday and I highly recommend it for those that have contemplated selling all their possessions and roaming the earth. I’m going through my adventure books kick at the moment so this was a good read after finishing Into Thin Air a short while back. Krakauer is just an amazing writer, he does his research and gives various background stories that are as fun to read as the main story arc. In Into the Wild, he talks about a kid who decided to go on an extended solo journey but was eventually found dead. He compared various solo adventurers and talked about their love for solitude yet they still yearn for human companionship in between adventuring. The thing that gets me is that through his writing you do feel sad for the boy that died, but the true heartbreak comes in for the people that loved him...that waited years to hear from him. I sometimes worry that I'm falling too hard into the selfish solo adventurist category…I feel like I lose sight of the fact that having people that love me is a true blessing and as such I should not be so careless with my own life.

I said I was probably going to miss out on hiking this weekend because I was helping out with PAX…but of course I’m a bad liar. Or maybe not…because I just kept getting lost. So if strolling into the woods blindly and turning whenever I hit a tree is considered hiking that’s just about what I did. I don’t know how the hell I keep getting lost these days.

I’ve decided to hike McClellan Butte because it’s supposed to be a decently burly hike (8.8 miles 3800ft gain) that is pretty close to Seattle, so that I could make it back to help at PAX. Just look out for signs pointing to the trail and not wandering into whatever trail you might see along the way like me, and you’ll be fine. I wandered into Alice Creek with this creepy dark tunnel and freaked the hell out of myself.

I couldn’t find a trail from there so gave up and turned around, right at that little trail junction, I saw a lady walking her dog and asked if she knew the way and she pointed up a little further at another trail…with the big fucking sign that said “Mc Clellan Butte Trail”. I smart!

Then right at the point where I saw the peak, I lost the trail again and wandered onto the scrambling point trail. Freakiest thing EVER! I climbed halfway up before I realized this could not possibly be the trail because it was just too dangerous for a hiker. That scramble felt like it required some heavy duty climbing gear. So I slowly made my way back…then found the real trail. Yay, me! Way to get lost constantly.

Overall the hike was pretty easy, the trail is being worked on so most of it is nicely maintained. The hike felt like a slightly more difficult version of Mount Si in that the trail is kind of uneventful and the view is about the same up top…but it does get a lot less traffic which is nice.

Short slide of hike here.

Grandpas and PAX

2006-08-26T11:42:00.000-07:00

Hmmm…while it could be true that I attract only the worst of the worst crowd with my amazing get-the-fuck-away-from-me-aura in dive bars, I don’t go out of my way to be unfriendly in the finer establishments. In fact I might be drawing in the creepy old guys because I’m usually equal opportunity smiley and friendly in places where I don’t feel like some jerk would come up and grab my ass as a new means of pickup line. Buuuuut, it doesn’t mean I’m not a creepy old guy magnet, in fact I have reasons to believe that even on my death bed, I attract them.
Those of you that know me, you’ve probably have heard of the French grandpa story, those that don’t, please…pull up a chair and enjoy yourself at my expense.
So I’ve mentioned on and off that I went on a solo backpacking trip around Europe for six weeks about 3 years ago… Well, I had pretty much gone from country to country partying my little ass off. I had also been trying to ward off some dreadful bug which I’m pretty sure I had caught back in the office but was momentarily staved off during my must-hold-on-until-the-end crunch mentality. Then vacation hits and that bug was seeping in. Somehow running around Ibiza drunk during a lightning storm screaming, hooting and hollering with joy has brought this bug to backhand me full blast. I woke up hungover and dehydrated with a raging fever. I had a plane (Ibiza is very far from the coast of Barcelona for those that haven’t been, it took my overnight boat more than 9 hours to get there) to catch to get to Spain to get my ass to France to make my way towards Italy.
I slept for as long as I could but one thing that came to mind was the advice Brian gave me before I left. He warned me that I could get sick during my travels, he said if I do, just suck it up and keep moving because you won’t remember the sick part, but it would be crappy to get stuck in one place. It’s true, the human mind has an amazing way of conveniently forgetting all the minor “suck” parts in life and keeping the good memories. So I made my way to airport, got the next flight out. From Barcelona, I took the train to Nice, France. The train from Nice to Rome was not due for another 8-10 hours, so I had to hang out at the station during this time.
I wasn’t just a little sick at this point I had a fever that made me weak and shakey and the worst case of the chills. It was sunny that day but I wore two t-shirt, two long sleeve shirts and my jacket (basically all the warmest clothing I had), sweating my ass off but I felt so cold at the same time…I was downright miserable. They made the chairs there obviously single chairs so that people can’t sleep there but I tried to prop myself and nap then the train people told me I can’t prop myself up. Bastards. Then this French grandpa (I call him grandpa because he looks at least three times my age, no joke) came up to me and asked me in French how I was “Ça va?” I took a few years of high school French and all I can remember how to say is, “I have a headache. J’ai mal à la tête.” I try to get back to resting my eyes. The grandpa came back to me and told me I should get some hot drinks in the café next door, I’m shaking my head, but he insisted.
I’m thinking hot drink might not be so bad…the grandpa walked along side me. I ordered a hot chocolate while the grandpa got coffee. The grandpa spoke some rapid French to the waitress and paid for our drinks before I knew what was going on…I tried to pay him back but he would take it, so I thanked him. I was touched that this random stranger was being so nice.
We walked back to the train station and he asked how I was again. I was actually feeling quite a bit better, “Bonne.” He nodded, then grabbed my face and tried to lean in for a kiss. I screamed “NO!” and jerked away. Everyone around us was staring. The grandpa goes, “Ciao.” And walked off quickly. I didn’t even look to see where he went, I was in shock that someone could do that. I felt like I was on the brink of death, looked it - and this old guy was trying to make out with me in broad daylight in the middle of a fucking train station. If I wasn’t already sick as a dog, that would have made me feel sick as a dog.
Now while French grandpa was a scary experience, I had another nice Irish grandpa story. I wanted to hit this outdoor rave in Ireland called Planet Love…to get there they had a bus that would take us from Dublin to Antrim. So I partied and toured Dublin for a few days. While I was there, I was in the pub chatting with these guys and this grandpa came up to me and said a bunch of stuff in Gaelic that I couldn’t understand. The guys told me, the grandpa wanted to teach me to how to Irish dance. Who am I to say no to such a nice sweet old man? The Irish grandpa twirled me around and I was dead tired by the SECOND song. I could not keep up with this grandpa and I was there to go to a rave that was supposed to be at least 12 hours long.
So…did I take many pictures during my 6 weeks there? … …I don’t want to talk about. No really, it’s okay, I don’t want to talk about it. Yeah…I took zero pictures...okay…not only am I currently pissed off at myself, but I write myself a daily “Fuck you!” letter. So leave me alone already.

There will be no hiking this weekend because my sorry ass has volunteered to help at PAX…because apparently I enjoy babysitting other people’s kids for free.

Ewwww... Again!

2006-08-23T15:28:00.000-07:00

I went out with my sister last night (DUN-Duh-DUHN!) so you know what that means. That means I get to put up with her friends AND get hit on by really old men (well…just one old guy this time).

In all honesty, all her friends were really cool this time, they minded their own business, wanted to get drunk and have a good time. The place we went to, Amber, was a bit meat markety last night, but that was expected since the place was THE place the Mariners and Yankees were going to for after-game party. So everyone was there to be seen and to see the players. I’m going to baseball hell, but I really didn’t care. I just don’t know the game or players well enough to know who’s who. I didn’t want the guys to point out, “Oh that’s Derek Jeter.” And I run over to take a picture of the poor guy who wants to have a damned drink in peace. He’s the only name I remembered from all the guys there because my old roommate used to play this Xbox baseball game that he endorsed.

So we all packed into the VIP lounge like a bunch of over-cooked sardines trying to rub elbows with the ball players. Not really my thing anymore. A few years back my buddies and I used to hang out at Belltown packed in like sardines to rub elbows with the Mariners. Freddy Garcia used to bring in some of the healthiest (read tall and big boned) girls on the block.

So if you came here to read about baseball players, I’m sorry. I don’t know them.

Instead I’ll talk about the old guy that I don’t know either. Soon as we get up to the VIP lounge this old drunk guy (he looks twice my age) stumbles toward my sister, I have no idea who he is. She’s smiling and saying hi, leans in for a quick hug and dives out of the way before he tries to plant a kiss on her. He smiles and greets me, I wave and say “Hi”. He gestures at his lips and says, “On the lips?” I instantly stop smiling and say, “NO!” That’s just disgusting. He looks shocked, “You don’t do that?” I keep moving on with a stern “No.”

Seriously, these rich old men are getting on my nerves. To make matters worse, the guy actually stumbled up to me later and asked, “Are you afraid of me?” Normally I would tell the guy off, but it was apparent that he was so drunk that whatever I say would be moot. I just told him, “No,” again and walked off.

*shudders*

The thing that gets me about all this isn't necessarily about getting hit on by an old guy. It's the fact that I see a pattern here. I'm that creepy old guy magnet.

*shudders*

I know I’m not exactly a spring chicken myself, but... What makes them think I’m interested? What draws the old guys in? Do I smell like moth balls? Is it the Extra-Strength Sea Bond I use? And in all honesty I wouldn’t mind talking to an older gentleman (gentleman being the operative word here), but it’s the fact that I get the gross disgusting tactless lines time and time again.

Proof That My Friends Are Crazy

2006-08-21T11:42:00.000-07:00

I keep complaining about how crazy my backpacking buddies are...and it doesn't seem possible that people could be that crazy... But while cleaning out my hard drive, I found videos that my buddy Fraser took during our trip to Mount Daniel that really does prove they are indeed crazy (I never got around to watching them till now myself).
On our way back down, Fraser said we should practice stopping on a snow covered mountain in case we slip and fall on the really steep part. Sounds sane, right? Yeah, but then he insisted we should all do a flying leap down the mountain to kick off the practice:

In this video, you hear me going WTF!?

And then when we got down still further, you see the guys crossing over this creek...that water is gushing with the force of ALL the snow melting off the mountain, which also means, fucking FREEZING! What you don't see off-screen is the waterfall on the otherside. So you see the guys trying to not fall into the rushing water and plummeting to their doom...then you see me in the background going "Fuck that!" and sauntering around the fucking thing.

Just Vanilla

2006-08-20T23:40:00.000-07:00

I saw a good movie - an honest to god, damned good movie. Go watch Little Miss Sunshine! It’s awesome in the way that makes me go, “Damn, now that’s what a good movie is about!” It’s not a movie about cool effect or watching stars be hot and sexy, it’s a simple movie with some real good writing. It’s also a movie that reminds you that even when things are bad, life is still worth laughing at.

I took my little brother to my favorite local park to ride his new bike…because with all my good influences of buying him Eragon books and playing lots of video games, he’s bound to get beat up in high school, maybe he’ll get in good enough shape to make a run for it.
Still, today was muggy and hot in Seattle so after a few rounds in Seward Park, I asked him if he wanted to go for ice cream since we were taunted by the ice cream truck at the end of every loop. He loved the idea (even though I later found out from my sister that he usually doesn’t care for ice cream).
So we went for some real ice cream at Baskin Robbins. I realize I haven’t hung out with my little brother much because he’s eleven…that’s like barely human. I didn’t know what kind of ice cream he liked. I asked him. He told me, “I like vanilla ice cream.” Me, “Just vanilla?” He replied, “Yeah.” I laughed because while my other brother is a lot more like my sister, Alec is a lot like me. I used to love just plain old vanilla ice cream too. I told him, “Well, you know, I used to love just vanilla too, but you know what else is really good? Brownie Sundae.” Apparently he’s never heard of that option. I asked if he wanted vanilla on a cone, cup or brownie when we got to the shop and he decided to try the sundae. He was in love with it. Yay, me! One more bad influence on the little brother and counting! I went for the plain vanilla in a cup. I do understand the love for the plain and simple but he should at least learn that he has options even with "just vanilla".

Gothic Peak

2006-08-20T13:35:00.000-07:00

In light of my recent bitching about the crappy film line-up, one film has been suggested multiple times. The Descent. Yes, people I know it’s got good ratings but look at what the damned film is about. It’s about a bunch of ladies on a cool outdoorsy adventure and they get killed in gory ways. Yes, excellent! Why didn’t I think of going to see that before? Hmmm…because you know…being scared shitless while hiking solo could motivate me to move a little faster on the trail. Because hours alone on a trail doesn't leave me thinking that some crazy axe murderer is lurking just behind that tree already? Yeah.

I’ve missed going out clubbing on weekends. I’ve missed it so much that I made plans to go on an easy day hike on Saturday so that I can be out that night. I figured Gothic Basin with a mere 9 miles with around 3000 feet elevation gain would be easy enough. Then Daniel bugged me about hiking and I mentioned going to Gothic Basin…and of course these crazy testosterone filled men couldn’t just “hike”…he immediately decided we needed to climb Gothic Peak (making the trip 12 miles with 4100ft gain).

The hike up to Foggy Lake despite being over 4.5 miles felt short. Overall the hike up was a little harder than I expected because the elevation gain didn’t seem that impressive for the distance, but then I realize the first 1.2 miles was completely flat, so all the elevation gain is within 3 miles which burns a little more.

We were still pumped full of energy at the lake, but we stopped for some lunch and I brought my water filter to pump some nice cold (very very cold) mountain lake water.

A few people were swimming in the water, but most of them pretty much do the same thing, they take off their shirts, dive in, scream like a little girl and quickly swim back out. Despite the blazing sun, the air is very cool up there.

After lunch we scrambled our way toward Gothic Peak. The ridge toward the peak was creepy as hell with a steep few thousand feet drop to the other side, I got a bad case of vertigo just hiking along that ridge. Then the last quarter mile toward the peak, the trail became loose gravels and boulders the size of my head. After hearing loud crashing boulder slides a few times from Daniel making his way up first, I decided I didn’t want to chance it. I’ve used up much of my luck on Mount Daniel and Mailbox Peak this year, I want to save whatever I have left for something important, like maybe a good powder day later this year. And I wanted to save some energy for going out at night.

Turns out it didn’t matter. The hike still took too long and I didn’t get home till 11 and I was honestly dead tired from hike 11.5 miles. The trip back down the trail was amazingly harder than going up…the trail somehow was a lot rougher than we remembered it. With the trail surface being extremely uneven, it was hell on the ankles and knees.

Slide of trip here.

Geeks At A Picnic

2006-08-18T11:23:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was our Annual Company Picnic or what I’d like to refer to as Watch Out-Of-Shape Geeks Hurt Themselves. Yes, despite the fact that we, the game developers, often wow the world with our powerful, muscle-bulging physique…we are not so finely tuned for friendly company flag football games.

Did anyone get hurt yesterday? I’m not sure, I got distracted by the meat roasting in the corner. However I counted at least two people that got hurt the day before from doing their practice game. One guy ran into a fence so hard he has a nasty bruise on his head and his eyebrow almost needed stitching, but the doctor told him it would heal with less scarring if they taped it. Another guy could barely walk because he pulled a hamstring.

Did I join the game? Hell, no. Brian asked why I didn’t want to play…I told him I didn’t want the upper-management team to trample the hell out of me. The “friendly” games are getting more serious…this year, the team that upper-management belongs to got t-shirts made with all their names on the back and the years they’ve won on the front. I don’t want to be the one holding the ball when those guys are on the field.

Slide here.

Wait! Wait! So being that I work for a geek company, am I going to see Snakes on A Plane? What? That would mean we would have to put down the irons that we're pumping, ruining that set and sit still in front of a brightly-lit screen for a few hours. Unheard of! Hahaha, you motherf*cking bet we're going to see ourselves some motherf*cking snakes during motherf*cking work hour.

The Meat Market

2006-08-17T09:05:00.000-07:00

I went out with my sister last night because I figured it would be unhealthy to sit at home alone and read all the time. About five minutes out with her group, I realize it’s unhealthy for me to subject myself to such crappy meat market atmosphere. This guy, Dave, a friend of her friend was trying desperately to pick up every chick within shouting distance while we were having dinner.

I knew I didn’t like Dave the moment I sat down and my sister gave me an apologetic look. I later found out my sister was so insistent on getting me out because she wanted me to save her from this group. She didn’t want to get stuck talking to Dave who wanted to brag about everything about himself, from all the dates he’s been on recently, to his job and his Ferrari. At some point, the guy launches into a thousand questions about me…not the kind where you know he wants to know anything about me really, but the kind you do when your date trainer taught you to ask about the girl. I try to be non-specific about my interest…but then my sister’s friend volunteered that I love hiking and doing outdoorsy stuff…Dave starts talking about his good friend who loves to climb and snowshoe and do everything outdoorsy. The guy was shopping for his friend too. He starts giving me a hardcore selling schpeal on his buddy and telling me I should give him a call. I told him to just invite his buddy out. He said his buddy is out of town but starts fishing in his wallet for his buddy’s card and told me I should check him out on his website, I told him to keep his card because I’m not in need of his friend’s company.

The guy thinks he’s being sauve but he manages to get on my nerve with every word. He next shows us pictures of his cats on his phone and tells us how he doesn’t have kids but he has cats. I think he expected us to fawn over his cats’ pictures. I don’t even like cats. Then my sister says, “We’re supposed to help Dave pick-up a hot tall Caucasian lady.” Dave adds, “Yes, brunettes preferred, but I’ll settle for a tall blonde too.” I’m looking at the guy…he’s 5’8”, Asian, not attractive and in his mid-to-late-forties claims to be 35…I’m not even going to pretend like I can help this guy out. I figured I could focus on the food which was amazing. My sister asked if I wanted to go see a movie or go play pool with her after dinner, I told her pool sounds like fun.

Soon as Dave finishes his dinner he shouts for one of the guy to get up and be his wingman. SHOUTS! Who the fuck does that? Then they go off and hit on the table with 4 ladies next to us. I’m ashamed to be sitting in the same table as this guy, but I’ve still got my dinner. A while later, the wingman comes back and said he couldn’t do it anymore, “Too much bullshitting going on.” Dave is still over at the other table, but on the other side, another guy was working the same angle. At some point, Dave shouts desperately from that table, “WHERE DID MY WINGMAN GO?” Smooth. A short while later, he stalks from the table, hopping mad muttering, “I’ve never been shot down that badly.” Shocking! The ladies’ table was right behind me and I can hear them still talking crap about the guy.

My sister and I wanted to leave to go shoot some pool, but then the entire group wanted to come with us. The night could not be saved. I stayed for another drink at the pool hall, but left before I could even finish the drink. I just wanted to go home, sit around alone and read.

The one funny thing was this story my sister told me at the pool hall:

Sister: I had this friend who had been hounding me to set me up with this old guy.
Me: Oh, yeah…I remember her. The 45 years old guy?
Sister: Yeah, that’s the one. So the girl kept text messaging me over and over. And one night I was out with Melissa and they were out somewhere else, and she text’d me again. I figured it couldn’t hurt to stop by.
Me: Dear god, I told the girl to not bother.
Sister: Oh no, it’s not even the guy. Soon as we get there, Melissa looks at the guy and said, “Oh you must be the Old Guy.” And then she starts doing what I do when I mess up.
Me: Hahahah! Go, Melissa!
Sister: Yeah, she realized what she said and instead of letting it go, she spends the entire night apologizing for it.
Me: Which obviously only make things worse.
Sister: Exactly.
Me: Wow, how’d you find a friend that pulls your special move?
Sister: I don’t know, but I now see why you give me so much shit for not shutting up.

I'm going buy Melissa a drink next time I see her. The singles market is just too strange and funny.

Crunch Crunch

2006-08-16T14:46:00.000-07:00

Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch… Crunch…crunch. That’s what you'll hear if you walk by my cubicle these days. I am forever eating non-stop and it’s driving me crazy. I’ve been trying to eat a little healthier these days to reward my body for allowing me to push it to the brink of falling apart and not punishing me for days afterwards.

It’s nice to be able to push yourself to the point where you know you should be hurting the next day and you walk away with a slight ache in the joints. I really appreciate this. So I’m trying to incorporate more veggie in my diet. Then I read The China Study and I realize I need to cut the percentage my animal protein intake by about 6,578%. So for lunch I tried this veggie sandwich. I’m not doing that EVER again…it feels like I haven’t eaten – brain no register food, brain starved to caveman talk. It’s nice to know that decreasing animal protein decrease my risk for heart disease, but I’m sure my risk for dying from inexplicable disease increased from my lowered quality of life.

Now excuse me while I grab another bag of carrots and a white nectarine.

Pirates and Mold

2006-08-15T16:46:00.000-07:00

Ever leave work for oh…maybe a week or so and forget to empty all drinking cups in your work area beforehand? And then you come back and stuff are talking to you from a cup? Well, yeah, me neither…nothing to see here, just move along.
So I was in the kitchen area boiling and scrubbing the hell out of the cup for fifteen minutes when a coworker asked about my diligent cleaning scheme. I told him about the talking stuff and he asked, “Now was it just talking to you, or was it sitting on your chair and coding for you?” I sighed, “No, the thing took after me and was just sitting there mouthing off, surfing the web, and reading other people’s blogs.” Scary how replaceable I am.
What am I doing these days? Well, our current project is still not quite done…but instead of waiting, I get to help on other projects. I’ve moved onto helping make some menus for Pirates of the Carribean 3…but instead of helping, I’m really terrorizing the team. It turns out they have nothing designed for the menu, so I demanded a menu mock-up…when the designer quickly scraped together one, I rejected the design as impossible and asked for redesign. Did I mention I can be a bit of a bitch?
Thing is, I’ve seen that exact same menu design before for when my old team was working on Narnia, it’s a quest log that looks like an open book with a lot of text on both sides of the book. Problem comes in with the fact that the Nintendo DS screen is super tiny with 256x192 pixels…you can (at most) fit one side of the book. So I’m pushing for a redesign because even though I don’t mind at all wasting my time on a menu that will be useless (because time to waste is what I have at the moment)…I’d like to give them something they can actually use.

My sister mentioned wanting to see a movie tonight and she's letting me pick... Is it me, or do all the movies currently out suck horse poo? I mean there's actually a movie out in box office that has ZERO% on rottentomatoes! I'm currently leaning toward Little Miss Sunshine or Who Killed the Electric Car, but I don't think either one is her type of movie.

Don't Coddle the Child

2006-08-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

Today, instead of working at metamorphosing myself into a monkey, I thought I ought to read about them. So for lunch I went to park to read and to soak up whatever sun I can get before the summer ends. Summer is ending way too quick, days are already much shorter – I know this because I love walking at the park after work and previously there is daylight out at 10, now it’s dark by 9.
A bunch of books came in for me during my week away from work…a couple by Cavell, some hiking trail books and “Love at Goon Park”. I was reading the Goon Park book and was mentally shaking my fist at Watson for thinking that kids should not be coddled and that they should be raised in baby farms away from the parents when my brother, Jeremy (24), called.
I had sent him to go pick out a bicycle for our youngest brother, Alec (11). He called to see if he should pick up some elbow pads and knee pads for Alec.

Me: What the hell? Did you think he was just going get on the bike and fall off?
Brother: I don’t know, he might fall.
Me: Yeah, and he’ll skin a knee, he’s 11, he could use a skinned knee. Be sure to buy him a helmet though.
Brother: Okay.

After I hung up with my brother, I went back to cursing Watson for his don’t-coddle-the-child psychology.

Lopez Island

2006-08-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

After not slipping to my doom on Mailbox, I thought I ought to curb my misanthropic ways and maybe trying hanging out with some people. My girlfriend from high school, Myra had sent out an evite a while back for a bike ride out in Lopez Island, which I declined in favor of a solo backpacking trip, but then changed to a “Yes”. It ended up being an awesome trip. I saw an old elementary school friend there, and met a bunch of other people that likes doing outdoors activity.

When Myra called me on Friday to arrange carpool and such, I found out a total of 19 people will be going. I remember thinking there’s no way in hell 19 people will show up. Some way…some how, all of us managed to get up at 6am on a Saturday morning to gather each other up, drive 1.5 hours over to Anacortes, to get in line on time for the 10 o’clock ferry. EVERYONE made it. We even got an unexpected group discount for the ferry ride. That means some 19 people (probably) didn’t spend Friday night getting smashed until 2am.

The day was just beautiful and perfect for a bike ride, sunny but not boiling. The island was sweet for someone like me who hadn’t ridden her bike since she started this blog (except for the day before the trip to de-cobweb and make sure the bike still maybe works). Most of the island is pretty flat, the parts that were hilly weren’t too bad…every one of the hills were just long enough to get your heart-rate up but flattens out right before you think you’ll die.

The only snag we ran into is that with 19 people…there are varying degrees of fitness even though all of them are young and in shape. All my backpacking buddies are crazy fit and I’ve always felt like a slow out-of-shape person next to them…but apparently the slowest of the fittest is amongst the fastest of the fit. The fastest riders in the group were a few of the people who own road bikes and rides regularly; I didn’t seem to have a problem keeping up with them. The rest of the group always trailed behind by a good half an hour…and the people up front mentioned it’s because most of the slow group has mountain bikes. I looked at my bike and looked at them, looked at my bike and looked at them…they said, “You don’t count because you’re a monster. In fact, you’re never allowed to ride a road bike with us.”
In the end, we ended up riding around 34-35 miles. I wasn’t too sore in the legs…but every part that touched that seat was not happy with me. When we had to hop back on the bike to ride out from the ferry home, everyone groaned.

I’m now intrigued by the idea of a road bike…it’s fun to just ride really really fast. So, somewhere between buying mountaineering gears, and a kayak, I’ll need a road bike.

Slide of the trip here.

Lost on Mailbox Peak

2006-08-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

My over-confidence in my ability to hike alone is going to be my downfall.

I was bouncing with energy on Thursday, so I figured I should go on a day hike and since it was sort of raining, I figured going to a new place was pointless when the view would be non-existent up top. Also, I do miss me the good trees over at Mailbox Peak.

The day started out normal enough, I stopped by North Bend to pick up some snacks, water and a hitchhiker. Yeah, I said hitchhiker. I know, I know…blah blah, he could hurt me…make me wish I was dead. I’ve heard the drill before when I picked up my last hitchhiker. Sometimes, you look the person in the eyes, and you see another human being that could use a lift. I figured even though my destination was coming in 5 exits, I could take him maybe 10-15 exits down if he wanted. Turns out he was heading to Montana; I told him maybe he should wait for someone that wants to travel further than 5 exits. He said, “I’ve been waiting here for 3 hours, even if it’s 5 exits, it’s still closer.” So I told him to hop on in, he had a full extended-trip backpack and a smooth wooden hiking stick. He happily shook my hand, “Hi, my name is Joe.” Joe was just cheerful and talkative…very intelligent sounding too…we chatted about backpacking and mosquitoes. I brainstormed over a good place I can drop him off at to increase his chance of getting a ride…North Bend is pretty damned popular, can’t believe he couldn’t get a ride there. I thought maybe the next rest stop…then I realize my destination exit has a large truck stop and truckers are known for being nice to hitchhikers. I asked Joe if he would like to be dropped off at the truck stop, he sounded very pleased with the destination and mentioned he was wondering where the nearest one was. I gave him my extra bottle of water and one of my bananas before he left, he thanked me profusely and I was off.

After he left, I spent a few minutes thinking about how nice it is to be given the privilege to help another fellow person out. Then I hear, in my head, all my friends yelling at me for picking up a hitchhiker and it made me a little sad. The fact that the few bad apples made it dangerous for one human to help another is just too terrible.

Mailbox Peak is still the evil hike that it always was…steep as hell and slippery from the rain. I’ve been a little depressed lately and almost gave up after hiking the first mile. Still, I’m stubborn and once on a trail, I don’t turn back. After the second mile, my head cleared and I realize I’ve been a little down because I realized all my hiking has made me more of a loner than I really would like. I missed my friends and family…still my not wanting to drink so much is making things very difficult. I had made plans with my best friend for a shave and drink that evening, so that was something to look forward to.

Um…we interrupt this blog with my current brain trauma…my brother just came in my living room and asked if his pants look good on him. I told him they looked decent but a bit tight around the ass… maybe he could wear a baggy sweater or something. He laughed, ran off and said the pants belong to his ex-girlfriend. I told him I’m going to tell everyone that he’s a cross-dresser.

So back to Mailbox…this would be my third time up there, and it really does get easier every time. Being a weekday, the place was empty, I saw ONE guy the entire time…he was running up the trail while I was slowing dying and dragging my sad corpse up the hill. Once at the top, I looked at my newly purchased GPS and found the thing to be worthless, it calculated the total trip distance to be 1.9 miles instead of 4…so basically it wasn’t taking into account the straight uphill sections and assumed I was standing still during the times I was hurting the most. I shut the damned thing off with the intention of returning the piece of crap the next day.

After a quick lunch, I headed back down. I somehow lost the trail on the way down. Problem with Mailbox Peak is, the trail is always faint and with not much of undergrowth and dead twigs and pine needles everywhere, everywhere looks like a faint trail. I figured if I just keep heading down and toward the general direction of where I think the trail is, I would find it…but the damn trail was slick and I kept falling and sliding down the trail. Then I came to a cliff edge and I realize why the trail actually winds around a bit near the top. I started clawing my way back up and continued toward the direction of the trail…until another cliff edge. This was not good. This side of the trail got really bad with much of the trail covered in decaying old trees…sometimes you think you’re stepping on a solid dead tree and the thing crumbles beneath you causing a nasty downhill spill and slide.

I realize belated during all this, that I forgot to tell someone where I was going…I’ve gotten over-confident in my hiking ability. Dumb. Still I figured if I make it back up top, all should be well..right? As I got myself simultaneously more and less lost for the next hour, I started thinking about my possible death (death seems to be an inescapable thought when hiking or scrambling on scary mountains). I thought about this book that I’ve read a while back, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People (I can’t say I highly recommend it, it’s good for the habits part but shitty for the methodology part. I found the book on “Free Stuff” table, so it’s worth reading for free) and I thought about this part where the author mentions beginning with the end in mind. The idea is to picture your own funeral, and think about how you want to be remembered by the people there…you should live your life by how you wish to leave your footprint (keep in mind, it has been a few years since I’ve read this, so I could be completely off). I thought about my mom wanting a nice wig for me if I actually shaved my head. I realize I do need to work on being a better friend, sister and daughter.

I continued slogging toward the direction that I thought the trail was while I entertained these morbid thoughts. After being lost for what seems like an eternity, my mind started playing tricks on me with self doubt – what if I was going the wrong direction. Panic! Then I remembered I had my (not so worthless now) GPS. I didn’t mark any point, but I knew that if I head toward I90 according to the map, I would be going the right way. I used the GPS compass to navigate toward it, and found the trail some 15 or so minutes lately. I was covered in sticks, leaves, mud and pine needles – saddest looking hiker ever!

Soon as I got off the trail and was back in phone signal area, I called Brian up for the drink and told him I’ll pass on the shaving. Good ol’ Brian never questioned my random plan changes and said, “Sure, let’s have that drink then we’ll talk.”

Happiness is finding the trail after being lost for what feels like an eternity.

Quick slide of Mailbox hike, I didn't take any photos after the peak part because taking pictures of places I could slide off and die from was kind of the last thing on my mind at the time.

Tuck and Robin Lakes

2006-08-11T20:44:00.000-07:00

I had planned the Tuck and Robin Lakes backpacking trip as a 3 day/2 night thing on Monday-Wednesday…with the intention of camping at Robin Lakes, and spending the second day scrambling around the nearby Trico and Granite Mountains. It ended up not taking that long for us to scramble around the two mountains so we left early on Tuesday. So we hiked up 7.5 miles the first day then hiked 11.5 miles the second day, all with full packs on. I had bruised hips and collar bone by the end of the second day.

That was my third backpacking trip and before I left, I weighed my pack and the god damned thing gained 4lbs since my first trip. One would think that with more backpacking experience, I would learn how to shave the weight off; instead, I keep buying more unnecessary crap. I think it’s the extra Advil and Blister packs that I bought, fucking Advil weighs a ton.

Tuck and Robin Lakes are as gorgeous as they come. Everything about the place was just wonderful…I love the mix of well paved trails with lots of boulder fields so you feel like you’re taking a slightly off the beaten path. Scrambling with a full pack ended up being a lot easier than I thought…really, when you’re clinging onto rocks for dear life, you don’t notice the extra weight.

Charlie was absolutely in love with all the boulders...crazy mountain goat man that he is.

Link to a slide from this trip.

RIP Camera, Hello Bike

2006-08-11T17:07:00.000-07:00

I’m still alive! The new pictures posted in my Flickr account isn’t done by the some creepy stalker hold me hostage for free Chinese food from my mom’s restaurant, because god knows, she’ll let them keep me. That’s a total saving of three people’s worth of food daily.

In some really sad world, my favorite camera died. It coughed up some blood and went into the light. I guess I’m a bit too hard on my equipment sometimes…like I expect it to be able to scale cliff sides with me and get all banged up with me and still survive…so not the case. Still, after having that camera for the last few months made me realize how much I love it, so I went out and got the same one (yes, my wallet is bleeding).

So I just realize I’m going to completely chicken out on shaving my head. I honestly was getting really excite over the prospect of sitting around rubbing my clean shaved head with a nice cold PBR in hand, but the one thing that has been holding me back is having to explain it to my mother. I’ve thought about it and thought about it…and it was really starting to depress me. It depressed me to the point where I realize, it’s just not worth it. I know my mother will cry when she sees me…and I really don’t know how to deal with that. I’ve made my mom cry once in my life and it made me feel like smallest person in the world - whatever joy or personal growth I might gain by lopping off my hair will be greatly diminished by this.

I figured I need to save these big stressful moments on my poor traditional Chinese mother for more important things, like…oh when I bring home a boyfriend who is a big black dude escaping from death row.

In a happier world, an old friend of mine, Myra is organizing a bike riding party in some nearby island tomorrow, so I figured I should take my bike out for a spin today. I had to literally dust the cobwebs off the poor thing. I took it out to my favorite park and rode around the bike loop, then on the streets along Lake Washington. I hadn’t ridden a bike on the streets since I was in grade school, I forgot how not freaky it is. For some reason, when I got my current bike a few years back, I got scared of the idea of riding on the streets, like people would swerve just to hit me. I’ve also driven along that same Lake Washington streets many times and people on bikes (especially with that lady who you know just bought her bike, wobbling back and forth on the road) always freaked me out, so I figured it must be just as freaky to be the rider.
Oddly enough, when I’m on the bike, I feel less freaked-out, like I own the damned road with my little two-wheeler…every damned car must move out of my damned way! Suddenly I become that lady with the wobbly riding, and I am oblivious to all the cars around me. Good times!

Ptarmigan Ridge

2006-08-06T23:11:00.000-07:00

I’ve been belly aching so much about how some pretty hikes are too easy and how trees make poor conversationalist, that you might think I’m one of those asshole client that can’t be pleased. Think again! Yesterday, I have actually found a hike that even I have a hard time grumbling about despite the low low elevation gain (2500ft) and crazy long drive away (3hrs). The entire hike was just gorgeous from beginning to end…although the trail guide said the ridge was 8 miles roundtrip, the trail continues on for what seems like forever. We had to leave because it was getting late and in the end, my GPS said we hiked 10.9 miles.
I would talk more about it, but it’s late and I need to get start packing for my backpacking trip tomorrow. No, we’re still not done with our project, but due to the insane “wait” time, we’re told we can take some time off to decompress…so I figured instead of planning some major vacation to visit 4 wonderful men in Gay Area, I ought to stay close.

Slide of Ptarmigan Ridge here.

Men, Stay Out!

2006-08-04T09:31:00.000-07:00

Every now and then, I clean the dirt from my nails, bite my tongue from crass jokes, and try to fit into polite society. My girlfriend Gigi is only going to be in town for another week and a half so I invited her to hangout with my sister and I at the Tower Club.
We managed to snag the best seat in the house:
The view in this place is just crazy good, even the view from the ladies restroom is absolutely stunning (this is the window in the stall, each stall comes with this view, and the toilet faces the window):The funny thing is, the men’s room don’t have nearly as good of a view (or so I’ve heard) and there’s this sign right outside of the ladies’ room:Check it out, I have actual hair (for now anyhow) and not pigtails:You know how you can tell when you've been hanging around guys too much? When we were hanging out in Belltown Billiards later in the night, some hot (more than) half-naked go-go dancers appeared next to our group. Not only did I make some God Of War + VG Cats comic reference to the ladies' ladies. I instinctively shouted, "Thank you, ladies! And thank you, God, for bringing us the ladies!" The guy next to me said, "What are you doing inside my head? Are you reading my mind? Did I just think out loud?"

The Guilty Love of My Life

2006-08-02T21:17:00.000-07:00

I took my car in for service today, it was loooong overdue - oh, by maybe a few miles give or take 10k. I love that false sense of security one feels driving away from the service station. It's this nice and clean feeling like your car and you just saw the dental hygienist or something - and clean teeth makes one invincible. Prior to taking the car in, I felt like I was driving this ticking time bomb, like at any given moment, my poor baby will choke on some sludgey oil, hack a few times and just explode.

I never thought I could get attached to some stupid material thing like a car, but I've found that I'm oddly attached to my car. It's a 2001 Land Cruiser that I bought back in October 2000. I remember when I first drove it, it just purred all over the road and to this day, it's still purring all over the place. It's such a gas guzzler that I sometimes feel so guilty and terrible about it, but most days I love it. There had been numerous occasions when I'm looking for a trail all alone in some crazy rough dirt road that makes me feel so grateful that my car is so reliable in that terrain. Over the weekend, the trail leading up to Hester Lake was partly a trail for off-roading vehicles, I saw all these different Jeeps roaring by with snorkel attachments...it made me hug my baby for not croaking. Then I looked at the odometer, it has clocked nearly 125k miles, I thought about my car getting old and me having to put it under, it nearly made me cry. The amount of crap my car and I have gotten into together has far outnumbered anything anyone has weathered with a loner like me in recent years.

One that instantly came to mind when I thought about recent solo trip was during Super Bowl Sunday this year, I thought I ought to drive up to Whistler because NO ONE would be there except ME! I mentioned this to my snowboarding buddies and they said, they didn't want to pay an arm and a leg for last minute lodging, I told them the idea was to drive there at night and crash in the parking lot and get Princess Parking when the park opens. The one buddy that ended up wanting to go whined about how hard driving up there would be and how much harder it would be to drive back...so I banned him. Sorry, I can drive 8 hours without blinking alone, but if I have someone whining in the passenger seat, I would have to push him out of the vehicle moving at 80mph at some point.

The day ended up even more beautiful than I could hope for. I got the best space in the lot when I rolled in at 7a.m. Folded down the chairs and took a nap in spacious luxury until the place opened at 9. The day was beautiful with a slight snow dusting, taking the highest lift "The Peak" on Whistler will take you above the cloud line. All you can see is snow, and where the snow ends, the clouds take over, off in the distance you can see other peak tops, the sun is shining brightly...it's like sitting in heaven.

(Picture taken with my shoddy camera phone.)

Around 3:30 I snowboarded right up to the lodge, clicked off my bindings and strode right in, they were just doing the coin toss. The game was playing on 3-4 big screen TV and 3 projectors and many smaller TVs. The bar was packed to the teeth, but a single girl in a bar will eventually find a damned awesome seat. I took off at the beginning of the last quarter because the out-come was predictable by then. I drove back to a very depressed Seattle, but my car and I had an awesome time.

I'm just happy my car got its teeth cleaned.

Drink Order

2006-08-02T00:47:00.000-07:00

I was at my sister's place tonight and she asked me what I wanted to drink:

Me: I would love some hot tea, and maybe an ice water.
Sister: *blinks and looks confused* Would you like a Screwdriver?
Me: No, some tea would be lovely.
Sister: What? Did you want a Screwdriver or hot tea?
Me: Just the tea please.
Sister: *blank stare* Wait, did you want the Screwdriver with that?

This went on for about five minutes before one of her servers came by and said to her, "I think your sister wanted hot tea." Sometimes I think I should just give up drinking altogether to stop confusing my poor sister, but then I see a good Guinness on tap, and I think, "Fuck that."

Chick Hell

2006-07-31T16:17:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, in the land of game making, we stop counting our toes for fun and actually play some games. When I got back from the gym, my teammates were playing this game, Cubivore, for “research”…it is the world’s trippiest game. If you’ve ever played Katamari Damacy, you’ll know that sometimes our Japanese game developers take a little too much shrooms and acid. Well in Cubivore, it’s like they’re candy flipping shroom, acid, weed and Viagra. The whole game is about your little character, which looks like a cardboard box, jumping around eating other colored boxes, so that you can change color, gain limbs, impress the ladies and mate. Much like Katamari, it’s oddly fun.

Is our current game done? …um…next topic. Our next game in the line up will be awesome, it’s our highest profile game yet – unless you’ve been hiding in your mom’s basement for the last two years, you’ll have heard something about it, so we’re very excited.

I went out with my sister last night and somehow two of her girlfriends showed up at her place and insisted they come out with us. Well, my sister and I were planning to play pool, so the ladies came with. Did I forget how to get along with ladies? I feel like my sister’s little brother that was tagging along. The conversation didn’t interest me. The first thing the ladies said to me was, “Oh my god, how do you stay so thin!? It’s 10 at night and you’re eating that?” Me, “Mmmmph, yeah, I’m hungry, and this is Butter Grilled Salmon is amazing. Want some?” Then when we got to the pool hall, they didn’t really want to play pool…they just wanted to talk about boys. Really, now! Boys? They decided my sister should meet their friend, this 45 year old guy, who is very “nice”. My sister is only 33, she’s not in need of dating some guy who the girls would say, “Well, by nice, I mean he’s really sweet, but I don’t find him sexually attractive…but he’s rich.” I tried to stay out of their conversation by focusing on the game which makes me look like the competitive asshole who cared too much about the game – but I can deal with being an asshole sometimes.
Somewhere in the course of the night the girls find out I’m single, and one of them said, “Oh dear, I can help you.” I was in chick hell. In all honesty, the ladies are nice and sweet, but I’m not sure I want to spend my night talking about boys.

What do the boys talk about when we’re backpacking? Well, we spend a lot of time making fun of each other. The boys come up with endless crude jokes and songs about their nutsacks. Yeah, sac. They love it. I poked fun at them for that and they told me I could come up with my own songs, I told them, “Yeah, but really vagina doesn’t rhyme with many things.” One of them made a valiant attempt at a good vagina song, then conceded that I was right.

Shape of an Orangutan, Transform!

2006-07-31T11:19:00.000-07:00

Another day of thumb twiddling…another day in the life of a game programmer. We’re either being flogged to death while have caffeine pumped into our body intravenously or we’re…waiting. So, today will be long lunch day with long gym session. I am slowly but surely adopting the form of a small orangutan, not even a cute one, but the scary lippy one that makes cameo appearances for humor sake. Even with all the time I spend in the woods, I know funny looking orangutan does NOT equal pretty girl…but an orangutan can easily shoulder a 30lbs pack without bitching and moaning for days.

Hester Lake

2006-07-30T14:11:00.000-07:00

I love me. I love spending an insane amount of time with me. I didn’t realize there was only so much of me that I can take. The worst is when I can’t escape.
I hadn’t planned on going hiking this Saturday since I’ve decided to stop being an asshole friend and actually made time to see Gigi, who had been in town for a few weeks already. I planned our outing around a dinner so it’s not as much about “drinking” but I knew it would be there, so…I figured hiking the following morning wouldn’t happen. It is, as always, fun to hang out with Gigi. She ran into a few relationship snag and I gave her the same advice that she had given me many years ago. Relationship makes people stupid, I love it and truly one never feels more alive than being in love…but I’m also at my worst when in love.
I woke up Saturday morning at 8 despite crawling in bed at 3. After much cleaning, reading and re-hydrating, I gave up pretending like I wasn’t going to hike and started packing for one. I wasn’t hungover since I didn’t have much to drink because *gasp* I’m learning how to drink in moderation (*sob* i feel like i don’t know you anymore. shut up!)…still I was a bit dehydrated so I figured I should choose an easier hike. I figured I could probably do a hike to a lake since I’ve hiked to some mountain top or another almost every weekend since April.
I found this nice hike to Hester Lake from “Beyond Mount Si”. The book gave the trail a “four peak” difficulty rating…with Mt Si receiving “three peak” so I thought it would be decent challenge. They should consider downgrading the rating to two. There wasn’t anything challenging about the trail. The elevation gain seems non-existence.
I know the writer gave it a higher rating because the trail was “wild”, covered with random rock climbs, creeks and ford crossing, and root mazes, but the trail was still stupid easy. Instead of giving this easy trail a harder rating because of the rocks and roots, the author should just make a side note of, “Look at the fucking trail, you moron!” It’s really not that tough.
I hate to call a trail boring because…you know…there’s nature and stuff - and heaven forbid I should ever call nature boring, but it’s BORING. There was just flatness and trees for most of the hike and god damned the hike was 11 miles round trip. Oh and I didn’t see a single soul aside from the few leaving the trail as I was entering from beginning to end. It’s strange, but I also felt more “alone” on this trail than any other…most of the time when I’m on a trail, I don’t feel alone at all, I feel surrounded by all the life around me, it’s comforting, this time, not so much. Maybe I got bored of talking to the trees too – they usually don’t have much to say. The most exciting part of the trail was probably the bumpy drive in.
I don’t know about other people, but when I’m alone, I have a dialogue in my head with myself, sometimes it’s like I’m writing my blog for me to read as I live the moment. After 9+ miles of talking to myself, I actually got tired of me. There were moments when I’ve caught myself not thinking, moments when I’m just a bipedal creature flapping my limbs instinctively to move from one place to the next. I actually stopped thinking; I don’t think I’ve ever caught myself doing that. Every single day, from the moment I wake up my mind is already racing. Food! Breakfast! Brunch! Elevensies! Angelina Jolie! There’s always something occupying my mind. It’s a bit eerie to find ones mind shut off even if just for a moment. I realized I ran out of things to say to myself, but there were two more miles of slogging. It was an interesting boring hike.
I’m actually a little stiff around the joints today, so despite the hike being easy, the 11 miles factor does take some toll. If you ever go on this hike, bring a friend and watch out for the baby frogs and toads. Try to pick a sunny day to go too, because I sooo wanted to take a swim in the lake, but for the first time in WEEKS, Seattle was actually not baking hot...the water was definitely warm, but there was a freezing strong breeze in the area while I was there.
Slide of this hike here.

Hell's Kitchen

2006-07-27T20:27:00.000-07:00

Hell’s Kitchen is an awesome place despite my dislike for Tacoma. They make this amazing Bacon Cheese Fries that I am absolutely in love with. If you can brave the stench of Tacoma, I highly recommend it.

Brian’s show was being recorded to be put on DVD by some UW film students who asked to record their band as a student project. I’m not sure Brian could have asked for a better birthday: non-stop free beer, 5 cameras on him, he gets to sing...and he was constantly hounded by women all night. I could hardly get into the swarm to buy him a shot. It’s good to see him enjoying himself.

The band that played after his band, was Embalmed. They were great. The odd thing about this band is, when you look at them, most of them look like beach bums. They should be saying, “Yo dude, how’s it hanging?” and not screaming at you in demonic voices. One of the guitarists is actually too damned pretty for death metal…but hey, I’m not one to complain about eye candy.

The headlining band, Origin, was the final band to play…they were good. I think I would normally rate Origin a little higher than good…but every band was just so damned good that night. Still, there were people from Vancouver there that drove down to Seattle just to see Origin, so they must be better than good to a metal head.

In Pursuit of Less Drinking

2006-07-26T11:44:00.000-07:00

What did I do before I started drinking? I've been asking myself that a lot lately because I've got lots of friends that I want to hang out with, but it seems these days everything revolves around alcohol. My ONE token girlfriend is in town and I haven't made time to hangout with her, because I can't think of anything that doesn't revolve sitting in some bar or another. Again, I love a good beer, I have absolutely nothing against drinking, but I just don't want to keep blowing all my money on booze. Hell, even if it is free, I don't want to waste my time dealing with hangovers or having the exact same conversation five hundred times.

I've got two invites to parties that both involve heavy drinking tonight. The first that I'm passing up is a (booze fest) boating party. Sounds like it would be fun...driving around in a boat, swimming here and there, drinking, then parking at a beach to have a barbeque.
Then there's my best friend's (booze fest) birthday today. Oh and he also has a show tonight over at Hell's Kitchen in smelly armpit Tacoma...I can hear my liver screaming and squealing.

How do people deal with this? When you move from drinking all the time to not so much...what do you do with your friends?

I've had people tell me I could just go and have a couple drinks... Is there even a real bar that will serve you a "couple drinks"? I'm pretty sure any bar worth their salt would beat the crap out of you, steal your money, throw you out, and call your mom a dirty whore if you order less than five drinks. I can't tell you for sure, since I love my mom and didn't want to put that to the test.

I'm So Sexy It Hurts

2006-07-25T17:22:00.000-07:00

I smell like ammonia. It’s my secksi new perfum called “AfterBite”. I found out that perhaps my bonking out half-way through my workout yesterday might be due to the severe blood-loss from feeding too fucking much mosquitoes on my trip. They were everywhere.
I was smart enough to have picked up a bottle of Jungle Juice the day of my trip which helped immensely, but those bastards were persistent. They just hovered until they found a spot that I’ve missed. Like the small of my back – because dudes camping, they don’t sit around rubbing oil and stuff on each other. And my ass, because dropping my pants to rub DEET on it seems a little…unseemly.
So I now smell like freshly mopped linoleum, am covered in bug bites, and possess hair that feel like crunchy straw from being baked in salt and sweat for three days. God damned, I sound hot. Oh yeah, men, if you come after me now, I’ll even throw in some bonus dirt in the nails and a bruise on the knee. Yech...
I left work early yesterday to grab some dinner with my sister. She mentioned wanting to see a certain movie so I said fine. She wanted to see “Devil Wears Prada”. I’ll have to admit, when I first saw the preview for that, I thought, who the fuck is going to want to see that. I squirmed for a moment, but then thought maybe I could use the estrogen boost and lots of chick flicks are perfectly charming. After watching that movie, I think my IQ went down a few points, my estrogen level is boosted by 50%, and I think your shoes are ugly.

Mount Daniel

2006-07-24T16:01:00.000-07:00

Work is amazingly non-eventful today…we’re still in “wait” mode. So instead of trying to make thumb-twiddling look like work, I went to the gym. Kids, don’t be a dumb ass and try your normal gym routine without extra fueling up the day after a backpacking trip. I bonked sooo hard halfway through my normal work-out, breaking into cold sweat and feeling a bit dizzy. I took that as a sign from God that I don’t need to exercise ever again and left (thanks God, you’re my favorite homie *throws fake gangster signs*)…then went to QFC next door, ate ALL their free crackers and hummus samples, bought out half the store, and inhaled the entire content in the five minutes drive between store and work.

So now I get to sit here, blog and comb through the five billionty pictures that the four of us took during our three day/two night trip.

The trip out to Mount Daniel was a lot of fun, but I doubt it’s a trip I will be repeating any time soon. Our buddy, Fraser picked out this hike, saying that it will be extremely easy. I did a little research on the trail and found hardly anything except for this blurb on Trails.com:
I assumed we must be going up a different trail because despite English being my second language, I’m pretty sure “Physically most difficult, technically difficult” does not mean the same thing as “extremely easy”. Yes, I looked it up in case I forgot all my English after speaking to my mother in Chinese this morning…most difficult does not fucking mean the same thing as extremely easy…they’re fucking antonyms.

We (Fraser, Daniel, David and I) all met up after work at Fraser’s house around 7 and drove out. By the time we got to the trailhead, it was dark. We strapped on all our gear and started our hike in for our first campsite, Squaw Lake 2.5 miles away. When we got there, we hardly broke a sweat so we figured we could charge in for the second camp, Peggy’s Pond, another 3.5 miles further in.

The hike to Peggy’s Pond was easy except for the end part which consisted of us hiking on slippery gravel surface, trekking across some snow-covered ledge, and scaling a bit of cliff side – all with our full packs on. I was not so happy after climbing around on the cliff in dark…then we lost our trail. We did eventually find it after much stumbling around lost in the night. It was past 3a.m. when we made camp and we were worried about being fried alive by the sun at 5 because the weather forecast for Cle Elum that weekend broke 100 degrees.
The weather ended up being absolutely perfect the following day with a bit of sun and lots of cloud. We really couldn’t have asked for better weather to sleep and hike in.
The “hike” up Mount Daniel is really more about trekking across rocky fields,
climbing up boulder fields,
climbing up slippery gravel mountain side,
and trekking up fields of snow.
We could have died so many times on this climb it was stupid – seriously, despite all my jokes about being eaten by bears, I don’t go out of my way to take chances with my life. We just went too under-prepared. If any of us knew how technical this thing really could get, we would have all brought crampons and ice-axes. Really stupid - I’m going to always carry an ice-axe at any mentioning of snow from now on...hell, maybe I'll just carry it all the time, take it to bed...toilet...you never know when it'll come in handy.
The view from the top was gorgeous and a stark contrast from Green Mountain, which is nice – because you can only have so many pictures of lush green mountain tops before people wise up and realize it’s pictures from the same place only with a slightly different angle (don’t worry I tell my hiking buddies to put on different clothes so it looks more authentically different).
We hung out at the top for a while enjoying the scenery and being silly goofy. Strenuous hikes have a way of making people giddy. We glissaded parts of the way down but we still had to trek across a steep snow field with a cliff drop-off which was yet more stupid risks we shouldn’t have had to take. Still, watching Fraser do a flying leap onto the snowfield wearing only nylon shorts is pretty entertaining. None of us bothered trying to suit up for the glissade, with rainpants or whatever, we just sat down on the snow and slid. After a while, my butt was frozen through from the snow, but god damned that was fun.

I was bone-weary by the time we got back to camp. We ate dinner, hung out then bunked down early so we could be up by 5 to pack and head out.
We woke up to the weird wind storm thingy. The trek back was pretty easy but it was scary to see the steep drop from the cliff that we scaled in the dark. We stopped by this wonderful place for breakfast. I had steak and eggs and a nice cold Guinness (I’m not much of a drinker these days, but for some odd reason, a nice cold beer and steak ALWAYS sound so good after a tough hike) for breakfast.
Edit: Finally got the slide together. It's a bit long but we did have over 2 gigs of photo between all of us.
It was a wonderful trip. Happiness is a piece of steak grilled rare and an ice cold Guinness at the end of tough hike.

Getting Hot In Here

2006-07-23T22:32:00.000-07:00

Seattle is too damned hot. My moldy swamp loving self can't handle this baking heat. Top of Mount Daniel was a nice balmy 70, but I can't write worth a damn about it now in this heat. Must drink more ice water...but I survived. I'll post pictures and summary of the backpacking trip when I stop wilting...hopefully tomorrow.

Geared and Ready

2006-07-21T17:15:00.000-07:00

Chugga, chugga, chugga, chug! Wheeeeee! I think I bought enough freeze dried food to feed a small army again. So...if you don't hear from me by Monday, my corpse is somewhere on this map:

Fancy Top Ramen

2006-07-20T23:00:00.000-07:00

I went out for dinner with my sister tonight because she has been dying to take me to this place in Columbia Tower for dinner. We sat in the bar, Stratus Lounge, which is on the 75th floor of the building. You can see in the picture on the far right corner, the Space Needle is but a tiny speck far below. It’s a beautiful place; the view of the city is lovely.

The one problem I’ve found from going to nice bars in these fancy five-star restaurants is that the two of us, somehow scream, “Please, all you dirty old men, hit on us.” We were sitting at the bar with her friend’s business associate (let’s call him old white guy) sitting next to the me. At first the guy was being congenial, then this guy (old Asian guy) sat down next to my sister and the white guy introduces the Asian guy to us as, “The nicest guy I know of with AIDS.” It was meant to be a silly over-the-top joke, which I got, but it’s kind of a fucked up thing to say, even if the guy was obviously drunk. Another drink later, the same guy asked us, “If the two of you were to fight over me, who would win?” My sister is trying to be polite with, “Oh we never fight.” Me, “Over you? We wouldn’t bother fighting, we would both walk away.” He wasn’t happy with the answer, “No, really, humor me. I said IF.” I replied, “No, really. There is no ‘if’. You set yourself up with that question. There’s simply no way we would fight over you.” My sister is laughing, “Yeah, we would walk off together to go get a drink.”

Since my best friend sings for a death metal band, I end up in some really dingy dive bars, but the rudest people I’ve found are often in the nicer places. The last time we were given similarly nasty bad lines was at the bar of Waterfront Grill, where my sister and I used to hang out at all the time. These two middle aged white guys (one very very fat, the other on skinny side made more skinny by sitting next to his friend) sat in the table next to us. They made polite conversation with us and invited us to join them, which we declined. They ordered a few $200+ per bottle wine and asked the server to bring us two glasses, which we tried to decline but they insisted.

Fat guy: Are you ladies alone?
Me: We’re each other’s hot date.
Fat guy: My friend here is single.
Us: No, really, we’re happy with each other’s company.
Fat guy: Don’t tell me. Your boyfriends’ name is Bob.
Us: Huh?
Fat guy: You know, Battery-Operated-Boyfriend.
Me: Sir, I think you’ve just stepped over the line of polite conversation, let’s not go there.
Fat guy: What's the big deal, it's just a simple question.
Me: Sir, that is not a subject to be discussed, I find it distasteful.

My sister pretends she doesn’t know what he’s saying, while the skinny guy looks a bit embarrassed by his friend. Fat guy doesn’t want to stop despite the fact that I was still smiling and trying to let him off easy.

Fat guy: Well, if you don’t answer, I already know what you answer is.
Me: That’s fine, but you are being inappropriate and this conversation is over.

After over two months of not hanging out with my sister for more than an hour, I went out with her on Sunday night. I love hanging out with my sister once in a while, but I do have to brace myself for certain things when I hang out with her. Like, we decided to have dinner at this steakhouse called The Metropolitan Grill…and she wanted to drive…even though the place is TWO blocks from her place, and valet costs 7 bucks. While relative to the cost of a meal at The Met, 7 is nothing, but two blocks...getting in a car and driving for two blocks…my brain is still hemorrhaging from thinking about it.

She heard about my vacation time and immediately decided we should go to Cancun or Vegas together. I can’t tell which of two places I would like to go to least. She mentioned I should go to this party with her on Saturday, I told her I was going backpacking this weekend. One thing she asked me during our really delicious meal is, what do I eat during the camping trip? I told her…um…a fancy version of top ramen, eaten right out of the foil baggy thing with my spork, it screams class. She looked horrified and asked, "What the hell is wrong with you!?" I laughed and explained, two years ago, I would have said the same, somehow at this moment, it makes sense.

In then end, I didn’t drink much and had to leave early to pack for my backpacking trip tomorrow (we’re leaving after everyone gets off work). I guess I’m getting old and boring…but if I’m having fun being “old and boring”, that’s all that matters.

Edit: I was just looking up how tall the Columbia Tower is, it's listed as 967 feet, which means, if you hiked up Mount Si, you've hiked up the height of that tower three times and then some.

Limbo, Hamster and Ninja

2006-07-19T22:18:00.000-07:00

After sitting in Limbo for so many days, our team finally got our wish…sort of. In a horrible way…I think. I can’t tell anymore. We really wanted a chance to polish our game, but we think it has been approved already… Instead we were just told we get to make a Japanese version of our game, which wasn’t originally in the plan. So we all sat down and played the game together for 3 hours to see what we should fix for the Japanese build…then came away feeling like crying knowing how broken the game really is, and that it will probably be released that way for US. *sigh* While we wish to see the game in great shape, I doubt we’re jumping at the thought of killing ourselves some more for a version that might sell 10 copies – bought by us and maybe this guy.

I’m not sure what impact the new game version will have on my weekend schedule yet, but my friends are thinking about heading over to Cle Elum to backpack Cathedral Rocks, and Mount Daniel…so here’s to wishing.

My little brother, who is 11, recently asked me to get him Eragon. So I went to the store to pick it up, but they were out of that book, so I bought him Pikman 2 and Legend of Zelda: Four Swords instead – because I’m good influence that way. We played Zelda for a couple hours, it’s pretty good. They made really good use of the GBA link, but it's a bit distracting to constantly have to look up and down whenever you enter houses and caves or go underground. I got killed a few times trying to get my bearings.

I've been jumping around looking at other people's blogs (Blogs of Note from the Blogger.com front page is always fun) now that I suddenly have that mysterious thing called "time". It would appear people actually spend some time in designing their page. Programmers "design" (emphasis with finger quotes) by aligning some text, maybe add a few scrollie-button things and it’s done. I guess I could look into some html code, I don’t think I’ve touched that since I was a freshman in college, making my first (god awful) Tripod.com page. Ah, the good old days, where it’s okay to find joy in loading up your bright green page with dancing hamster and gay ninja gifs.

Damn, I think this blog title is more interesting than the blog. Dammit.

Marmots Of My Dream

2006-07-18T15:46:00.000-07:00

My blog has become a few different things to me. It’s a place where I share various moments with people - a place where hopefully it sometimes amuses them. It’s a place where I sometimes vent my frustration. It’s my means of convincing my friends that hiking is a beautiful thing. It’s where I sometimes come to day dream when I’m stuck at the office and I would rather be hiking.
Today, I was looking at a photo from Green Mountain and I was, for just a moment, teleported back there. I can smell the flowers in the field. I can feel the warmth of the sun with a gentle breeze. I can hear the soft rustling of tall grass and plants dancing against each other - and echoes of marmots whistling throughout the hills.
Marmots…we saw a few marmot holes along the way and let me warn you now, if you walk past one, hold your breath. Those things are the stinkiest little dens. It really doesn’t help that as a hiker going uphill you’re already huffing for air…catch of whiff of that, and you will fall over dead. It smells like twenty little hobos shoved into a ditch, where they all pee in the corner and the ditch gets baked in the sun…it will make your eyes water. Pesky little marmots, what are you doing in my day dream!? Get out!

Bear Food

2006-07-17T22:11:00.000-07:00

My friends are planning a backpacking trip this weekend, soooo…if work permits I might get the privilege of lugging around 30lbs of schtuff into the woods and hiking until my feet bleeds. Yay!
I had mentioned that in my last trip that between the three of us, we had almost three of everything. Dave brought a tent for 3, Daniel for 2, and me for 2 -- we had enough shelter to construct our own Ewok village. Me being me, am always paranoid about starvation, so I brought enough food for 2 people and then some…not joking about that, Dave didn’t pick up food before hand so I told him I would share mine, we both ate well and I still had to pack food home.
Being that it was my first backpacking trip, I was very apprehensive about my ability to lug around that much weight for any distance so my friends had told me I didn’t need to bring some of the duplicate stuff. No way! Of course we needed three water pumps, three camp stoves and three of everything! Personally, I wanted to make sure I can carry everything I would ever need and to make sure I actually bought everything I needed if I were to go on a solo trip. Not to mention there’s the obligatory testosterone gear competition…and I wouldn’t want to miss out on that. Who’s got the brightest headlamp? I do! You ought to replace your sad dim headlamp with a miner’s helmet and candles. Who’s got the brightest pink mattress? It’s Chrysanthemum, you bastards, and it’s um...very manly and cushy...I grew chest hair just from sleeping on it.
I found out during the trip I forgot to get ONE very important item. Before I ever went on the backpacking trip I had been hemming and hawing over the possibility of a bear attack. Well, I forgot to buy a bear bag. Yeah, both guys brought theirs… What did I plan to do to keep the bears from going after my food? Well, I was thinking of slathering myself with molasses and maybe tying a small piece of steak to my neck to distract the bears from my food, of course. Uh-huh, because I am a god damned idiot… *sob* I’m so going to get eaten.
Note to self: Go buy a bear bag, bear mace, some bug juice…and stop being such a dumbass.

Green Mountain

2006-07-16T09:02:00.000-07:00

My project is currently in Limbo. Yes, it is in the Land of Judgement AKA Nintendo. Most of the team, myself included is wishing that we would get bounced from lot check so that we might get an extra week to fix all the bugs. We honestly WANT another week of no-sleep, working till 7a.m., pumping our system full of Starbucks to get our game to the state that we know we can be proud of. The game is seriously flawed right now and we will get eaten alive by reviewers if it gets released in its current state. How do we allow a game like that to go to our client? Well, it was due date, we simply had to turn in what we have with a request for more time to work on it. If the client decides they are okay with the state of the game, they can choose to take it as it is and hope that Nintendo will let the game pass. Nintendo has their own testing team to do quality control to make sure the game isn’t complete crap…but bugs and such, if the client is a big name company…they can belly-ache up a storm if the game gets kicked…well, there you go.
On Friday, we were all just on hold, waiting around to see if our game got bounced from lot check. I rolled into work at noon, went to the gym for two hours then left work at 4:30. Rough day. At the end of the day we had a quick team meeting, the producer said we were actually allowed to have real weekend. I felt my face crack…it felt like a smile…what is this feeling…I think it’s joy. Then I asked him what I rolled on my Save to Disbelieve. I expected we would all be leashed to our phones this weekend for on-call duties. He said nope, we can actually turn off our cellphones if we like. That would mean, I can actually wander outside of Seattle…
I was sitting around pondering over what I planned to do with TWO whole days off when Dave called and asked if I wanted to go hiking. Ha! No...I hate that hiking bullshit.

So I went hiking on Green Mountain with Dave on Saturday. I woke up that morning with the worst fucking migraine ever…no it’s not a hangover, it’s something worse…it’s caffeine withdrawal. Holy shit, does it ever hurt. I’ve only heard about that, being not much of a coffee drinker myself but towards the end of the project my typical coffee intake starts with half a cup of coffee mixed with a Starbucks Doubleshot. A coworker asked me if I was spiking my coffee with coffee. Yes, our company coffee is the most potent shit on planet, but it tastes like potent SHIT (Dan describes it as, “It’s like licking tar and asphalt.”)…so the Doubleshot is only there to make the drink a little more potable. Doubleshot is actually really good and tasty, try it sometimes. So I have two or more of those, plus the one or two Double or Triple Mocha from our coffee runs each day. I didn’t have blood; I had coffee coursing through my veins. I’ve stopped drinking coffee for two days, my body was in shock. Fuck you, body, no coffee!

Who needs coffee when you have a beautiful hike to wake you up? Green Mountain is the most beautiful hike I’ve been on thus far. I say that about every hike, but I really do mean it this time. It starts out really easy, it was so easy that I commented to Dave, “This is too scary easy so far. We’re going to have to pay in the end aren’t we?” He couldn’t quite remember since it had been 3-4 years since he was last there. The hike calls for some 3000 ft elevation gain in 4 miles…at what felt like the halfway point, I don’t think we’ve even touched 1000ft.
At around 3 miles, all the elevation gain that we were missing backhanded us. I was hiking along when I suddenly felt…winded. I’m asking Dave, “What the fuck is going on!? I think I’m getting winded. I CAN’T get winded!” He laughed and said, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but...” We started cursing the trail together. It just went from pretty stroll through the flower meadows to hahaha, fuck you, burn thighs burn! It’s a good thing the view from the trail was just gorgeous throughout because it made for good excuses for breaks. It’s a bit humbling to have a trail force you to take breaks.
The view from the top is…wow… You end up standing on a stone ledge with nothing to obstruct your view. Here’s a stitched photo from the top…it’s 360, so wrap the photo end to end, that’s what you see.
I saw my first marmot on the way down. It’s so cute. Suddenly they were everywhere. Not so cute. Dave warned me I would have to kick them if they come after me. I protested. He said, “No really, they have really sharp teeth.” As we hiked along, we saw two marmots on the path, we stopped, one of the marmot bee-lined for me. I was frozen in shock with my trekking poles crossed in front of me in case I had to fling the poor little bugger. It veered sharply to the right about 2 yards away from me. Whew! The other one scrambled off.
We made it back to the car without having to kick, fling or otherwise maim a marmot.
The drive to Green Mountain is 2 hours, but it’s so worth it if you have the time and good company. Here's a slideshow of the hike.
Eric just emailed me reminding me that he lives in the Bay area too. What a bastard I am to forget. That’s 4 men that I want to see in the Gay area, and only one of them is gay...why are all these straight men congregating to the not so straight area?

My Last Roadtrip

2006-07-14T07:05:00.000-07:00

I’m finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. So…vacation planning time! I’m still entertaining some serious thoughts on an extended solo backpacking trip, but I’ve got recent invites to the Bay area that I’m thinking could be worked in there somewhere. While Ian was here for work, flitting by every once in a while, I made the time to stop by to say hi and bitched (bitching is my true not-so-hidden talent) him out for having the world’s shittiest timing. He always seems to visit when we’re a little deranged from being over-worked…or are we always just a little over-worked and deranged? He laughed and responded, “You know, this simply means you have to come down to the Bay area for a visit.” The man was skirting the key issue that his timing sucks. Focus!
Later when I actually got a bit of rest and I stopped thinking everyone sucks and I’m awesome and that the world should revolve around me, I thought Ian’s suggestion might not be such a bad thing. I do have my extremely gay (seriously, the guy wears hot pink stripped skin-tight Speedo shorts to go shopping downtown) but very much in the closet cousin there that I haven’t seen in a long time. He’s what 35 or so now? His mom is very old-fashioned Chinese so I think he stays in the closet for her benefit. It’s cute how she insists that his “best friend” that always hangs around the house has a crush on his sister.

Still, I’ve got this longstanding tradition of running off to do some crazy solo things after every project. Last year, I thought I ought to do a solo road-trip to Grand Canyon. The planning for the trip went something like this:
My boss: So are you have any vacation plans for after the project.
Me: Nothing solid yet, but I’m thinking about driving down to the Grand Canyon.
My boss: You driving with a friend?
Me: No, just me.
My boss: YOU’RE GOING TO GO ALONE?
Me: Yeah, I’ll be fine.
My boss: Well, if you must drive solo, I highly recommend books on tape. We have Eragon around here.
Me: Thanks, I’m sure I’ll love them.
My boss: So when are you thinking of doing this?
Me: Well...whenever we get the okay from Nintendo.
My boss: We should be fine, it would be better if you leave and come back sooner.
Me: How about tomorrow?
My boss: Tomorrow sounds fine.

I left work early and started sort of packing, but I had a birthday party to go to….so I went to that, crawled home at 3a.m. I woke up way too late the following day with a nasty hangover, packed and was on the road at 3p.m. I think I threw everything from my closet into my trunk. I plugged in Grand Canyon on my GPS and realize…fucking 22 hours drive. So um…if I drove it straight, I could be there by 3p.m. the following day, but if I stop for 8 hours, I would be there close to midnight… Since I had so obviously planned the hell out of the trip, I didn’t want to get stuck in god knows where land at midnight, so I figured I should drive it straight.
Solo long distance driving trip is a strange religious experience of its own. You start to hallucinate when the sun goes down and all you see is the road and the light. The only thing that really matters is the light on the gas meter. I get a panic attack every time the gas light goes on and there isn’t a sign of approaching gas station anywhere. There was a point around 2:30am, when the gas light went on…but exits after exits went by without any sign of gas…then finally…”Gas”. I drove into a town with the population of one dim lightbulb…drove up to the gas station and my eyeballs nearly fell out of their sockets. They were out of gas. How the fuck can you run out of gas when you’re the only station within 30 miles radius? I asked the gas attendant lady if there was another gas station nearby, she said there is a smaller one two blocks south, but it’s not open until 8 in the morning…or another 30 something miles down the highway. WTF!? I’m thinking I could maybe crash out, but this would throw off the arrival time even more. And the place was creeping me out…you have this giant brightly lit gas station (you said, population dim bulb? it's a metaphor, jackass!) in the middle of nowhere with NO GAS and there’s one lady with a mullet attending the gas-less station. It’s the perfect setting for a B-rated slasher flick. I got back in the car and started driving. Serious, religious experience…if you ever want to find god, do this. I’ve never prayed so hard in my entire life to just be able to get my car to the next gas station…I pleaded, I bargained, I begged…I’m pretty sure Brian’s left nut was thrown in there too. I was noting the highway numbers as I drove, in case my car dies and I have to call for help. Oh and my phone wasn’t getting any signal, joyful! And then…there was light…and gas.
The rest of trip was thankfully less exciting. Utah, dear god the place was gorgeous. Driving through Mount Zion was…wow. I’m so sad now that I wasn’t a backpacker back then, because man oh man, the place deserves a good backpacking through.
Around 4pm the following day, I arrived at Grand Canyon. I got out of the car, all pathetic shakey and wobbly…and nearly died from being underwhelmed. The Grand Canyon was a pile of rubbles.So, I’m trying to make myself feel a bit better about the place…it’s not that bad. It’s a nice tall (very tall) organized pile of rubble. It’s…um…a shithole. I knew I was delirious from being on the road for too long and sleep depravation…but the place looks nothing like the pictures… Now I know sometimes, the photographers make the place out to be much prettier…but this is not even close.
I walked into the visitor center/gift shop to see pictures of the Grand Canyon mocking me…then got a map of the place and realize…I was on the wrong fucking side of the canyon. Now my extensive planning for the trip had included me quickly googling “Grand Canyon” so I was vaguely aware of the fact that there was “North Rim” and “South Rim”…but what they really should have done is labeled it as “South Rim” and “Do Not Fucking Go There”. The site had drawn maps that really doesn’t show you the difference between “Fuck You” and “Oh Wow”. Why bother directing people to the pile of rocks that form a shithole of nothingness? That's another 1/2 hour of driving that I would love to skip.
Now comes the good part…South Rim is 2.5 hours drive away. The place was fucking huge! Apparently that’s why they named the place “Grand Canyon” and not “Modestly Sized Canyon”. I’m a genius, I figured that one out by myself.
Problem now is…do I even have the energy to do another 2.5 hours? You know…when you’re going through something that’s tough but you see the light beyond the horizon, so you tell yourself you can keep your shit together for another moment longer and that things aren’t so bad? Well, I used up that reserve. When I parked at North Rim, I had moved onto uncontrollable sobs and, “Thank god it’s over.” I stood there for a moment and found energy in, “Fuck you, website designer!” And got back in my car and drove. I have to say…when I got to South Rim, I got out…looked around…and thought, “Now THIS is Grand Canyon.”My buddy, PJ called me later that night to check when he should be expecting me in San Diego…I said tomorrow night. Yeah, I thought I might like to camp at the Canyons for a few days, but I had quite enough of alone time by then.

I emailed my buddy, Josh (not to be confused with Josh from L.A.) yesterday day asking about mountaineering gears and classes then bitched him out for flitting through town like a ninja butterfly. He apologized (even though he didn’t have to, but he is a silly sweet man like that) and mentioned that I was still invited for a visit. Last I checked he lives in the Bay area. So that’s three people that I wish to see in one area.
In case I doubted his words that California is beautiful, he linked me to sites of his climbing destinations. Tempting.
Josh, was my climbing buddy. I’ve almost completely stopped climbing since he moved because climbing is one of the few things you can’t do solo. Everyone thinks Josh got bitten by a radioactive monkey because his climbing ability is inhuman. Judging from all his photos, all his friends are really marmots, so he really must not be human after all.

Bus Driver to Hell

2006-07-12T23:35:00.000-07:00

If you’ve maybe been feeling sorry for me lately, don’t. Guess what I did today? I hiked some mountain in my favorite hiking weather of light rain, had hot chai at the top, then got a bunch of FREE magically delicious Chinese take-out and watched a good movie with my little brother (while having the optional ending of FREE sushi and open bar, but I’m still not in the drinking mood). Life really doesn’t suck too hard.
I decided to hike Mount Si since it was close by and it’s one of the few places I still get a phone signal at (I was on call for work). Being that it was such a rainy day, the view was non-existent up top, but the hike was nice and quiet.
Being that I’m so close to being done with my project, I’ve got friends that are eagerly awaiting the completion of the game, so that I can go drinking with them. Really, they’re all lined up at the finish line with shots, lime, and salt, all ready to go.
Having cut off so much of my drinking habit lately has brought up a few interesting light. I’ve always said it’s stupid easy to drag someone into hell, but nigh impossible to get them out. Every time someone finds out I haven’t been drinking, they try to find out what “my problem” is…and will actively seek a cure.
A few years ago, in the peak of my party phase, I would be driving around to a 4am after-hours party with my car packed to the brim…quite often 10 people stacked on top of each other. Balls of coke, tabs of ecstasy, bottle of GHB, bottles of vodka, jugs of whiskey, joints galore, plus a mix of other drugs that even I wouldn’t touch and porn blaring on the screen. That is my prequel of driving the bus to hell. There is never a lack of passengers. Why do I ALWAYS drive? So that I may come and go as I please. And, no offense, Prince of Darkness, your place is lovely and all, but sometimes I miss my fluffy soft bed.
Every now and then, my friends would comment on my darker days and remind me how much they worried about me…I would shrug. Sometimes I get the feeling that they want me to apologize or say I didn’t know what I was thinking. All I would say is, “If I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, I would do it all over again. Because, god damned, that was so much fun! I had a fucking blast!” Given the chance to do it all again now, I wouldn’t want to, but what was right for the moment was just that. For those that are curious about dabbling in powder, if you’re going to mix, go with the coke first because it’ll numb your sinus…just about everything else will sting like a mother fucker…oh and I’ve heard about this from a friend of a friend of course.
Now all my friends that were so worried about me are focused on getting me back into drinking more? I already know I’m going to drive the bus to hell, don’t worry about my “drinking problem”, I just want to take a scenic detour every now and then. The road out of hell is a lonely one; I don’t plan to spend forever on it.
I saw Eight Below with my little brother…it featured EIGHT dogs…so you just know they’re not all going to make it. I cried when the dog whimpered in pain…I didn’t even bat an eyelash when Jack died in Titanic, I was just thinking…damn, that bitch killed him…but ooooh, the poor dog. Then I thought I need to either go get a fucking dog already or maybe I do need to get out a bit more.
I just starting reading The Moral Animal…but work seems to not quite be done. I found out we got bounced out of lot check tonight, no big surprise there. So back to work we go tomorrow.

Ugh...

2006-07-12T12:17:00.000-07:00

I just woke up after sleeping like a log and thinking about going for a quick hike before checking in with work and saw this. That sure puts a damper on things. Pinnacle Lake is right in that area near my last hike (Mount Dickerman is probably within 10 minutes drive from here) where I had lots of plans to do solo hikes this week. I'll probably have to rethink about solo backpacking a bit more.
Edit: Here's an updated to that article. Scary.
And another. It's so sad.
More updates.

Rarr raar rawr?

2006-07-12T05:34:00.000-07:00

English fails me at 5:30 in the morning. How do games get released with so many bugs? Well, at some point, you look at the the ugly baby in a brain dead state, and say, "Gosh darnit, it's a beaute, bring in the stork!" What never ceases to amaze me, is how the team never really lose their sense of humor. They're really an awesome bunch, I love them. If anything the less sleep we operate on, the goofier the team gets. In between pacing, bug fixing, and kitten naps, I hear my coworkers reading out loud to each other, "You committed a BONER; Joker! You were so busy forcing me into a boner, you forgot you were committing one yourself!"
The more I read The Pacific Crest Trail during my sleep deprived delerium, the better the trail sounds...like let's start tomorrow. I'll just saunter over there...hell why not right this moment...
"What is that cutscene? Is that Lando and Han Solo making out? That doesn't look like a hug to me."
Ian came by earlier and offered to gofer drinks, people started placing orders for ice cold forties, but alas, it wasn't meant to be, so we got ice cream. I'm in love, yes, I'm easy, my love can be bought with a simple ice cream bar.
I fall in and out of love quickly when I lack sleep. Fat dinner delivery guy, call me.

Just Push the Button

2006-07-11T12:40:00.000-07:00

I'm slowly seeing a nasty pattern in my blog...that I'm slowly but surely migrating toward doing nothing but whine about work, and not being snarky. Which means, I need to stick my head in the toilet and flush a few times. Because if I can't even be a proper snarky gal anymore, what the hell do I need my head for? Wait...did that even make sense? No, perhaps not. What I'm saying is, I'm losing my sense of humor and my own blog is boring the hell out of me. And honestly, I'm sure all my friends would pay to see a picture of me flushing my head in the toilet, because they're all bastards.
Ian is in town. I think he's here to make me cry, because I would give my best friend's left nut to spend some time with him. How many of Brian's left nuts have I given up by now? Let's see...there was that time when I wanted more snow for snowboarding...then that backpacking trip that I really wanted to go to...the parking space that we wanted...then that one day I wanted a bit more breeze during that hike... The way I see it, I'm doing Brian a huge favor by making all these bargains with the Good-Snow-Day Fairy, Backpacking Trip Fairy, Parking Fairy and Trivial Stuff Fairy because it's bound to have a Constantine effect. Seriously, invincible nut! See, I'm an awesomely sweet person forever looking out for my friends, now you fuckers go flush your head in the toilet to entertain me.

Sleepless In Seattle

2006-07-10T10:17:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder what no sleep looks like? I think it starts with a tight deadline...then something like this around 11 p.m. (actually that was Saturday's run, Sunday's run was around 9:30p.m.):
We did not meet our deadline...to be honest with you, I can't say I didn't see it coming. I think the ENTIRE team knew we're at least a good week away from being truly done. Still, the chugging of the machine goes on. Sometimes you just have to keep plugging away and show an ernest effort to get there, and we will get there. The important thing is, we still enjoy each other's company tremendously, and we all know we've been putting in the work.

PSA: This is your friendly Public Service Announcement, parents...do not let your kids play video games. Who knows, they might like it and grow up to make a living out of it. Then they'll find that they have little time for sleep, and definitely zero time for hot dates (wait, any kind of dates, could be cold and clammy ones). One day, they will take a walk into the woods and never be heard from again. Woooooo-oooooo! (That was supposed to be more like the ghostly haunting wooooooo! and not retarded gamer WOOT!) We never got to know them...those game programmers in the mist.

Mount Dickerman

2006-07-09T09:49:00.000-07:00

Our game is DUE today…ALL OF IT. So needless to say, my team has been living at work. I’ve been putting in 12-14 hour days while some have been putting in even more time.
I had resigned myself to the idea that I will not be hiking this weekend, but then my buddy Dave called and it took him all of one sentence to convince me to flake out on work and go hiking. He said, “I was thinking about hiking Mount Dickerman.” It was THE hike that I had flagged as my next hike if I had time to hike. In the end, I was very late for work (5pm), people were pissed off at me, but I was stupid happy. It’s hard to feel bad when you have a blog that shows the last time you had two days off was back in June 3rd…and the last time I had any day off was 24th of last month. I ended up leaving work at around 2:30a.m., while I was not the first to leave, I most certainly was not the last. Takes a bit out of the magic of making video games, doesn’t it? I woke up this morning completely disoriented. What day is it? Where the hell am I? Oh yeah, gotta get back into work.
Hiking is so good for my sanity. It reminds me that while life might not be making a whole lot of sense at the moment, I still have me. When you take away everything, it’s just me and trails. The adventuring goes on.
Hmmm...Ivan is in town, while the idea of hanging out with a gorgeous guy sound so good, having some time to get some proper sleep seem so much better.
Mount Dickerman is currently on my list of favorite hikes…the view up top is simply insane. When I have a moment, I’ll put together some pano-shots.
In the mean time, here's a slide.

Off With Her Head...Erm...Hair

2006-07-07T08:57:00.000-07:00

I’ve always claimed to be high maintenance…except I do all my own maintaining, and I’m only as high maintenance as my circumstance allows. I’ve been rather peeved with myself of late…or more specifically I’ve been peeved with my hair. Don’t get me wrong, I love my hair, it keeps me girly and feeling pretty, but god damned it’s getting in my way and takes work to make it presentable in public.
You might notice I almost always have it up in braids when I’m out in the wilderness, that’s because I suck at hair styling, and braids are the only thing I know of to keep my hair from attacking my air passage (yes, my hair has taken up the “Eat me!” attitude and has on more than one occasion attempted to suffocate me). I’ve never been one of those girls that figured out how to do intricate pretty French braids back in kindergarten…somehow I fell asleep through that class too. I can’t build a fucking tent and I can’t style my hair, how the hell did I sleep through all the important crap? Should I just feel lucky I figured out how to feed myself and tie my shoe-lace?
So…I’ve been thinking of chopping all my hair off…not just trim it, shave it ALL off. Why not just do it already? Because I’m scared. Yeah, there I said it. I’m scared of shaving my hair…and you know what? According to my blogging habits, the moment I admit I’m scared of something, I’ll just go out and do it because I am a god damned idiot. Someone call the police when I say I'm scared of petting poisonous snakes.
What am I so afraid of? Well…um…without hair…people will focus on your face…and who knows, maybe people will realize I’m really not all that pretty and will suddenly find me hideous without the distraction of hair? Now before you go and feel like maybe I lack self-confidence…let me reassure you, I am a great many faults, but I don’t lack self-confidence.
My favorite example of this is, a few years back, I did a solo backpacking trip around Europe for six weeks. One night, I got bored of being alone, so I thought I should find someone to hangout with. I noticed this adorably cute guy sitting a table away checking out some guide book. Now, I’m really stupid awkward shy (<--major fault) at the worst moments…this would be one of them (hey, I’m a programmer, we aren’t known for social grace and poise). I could not, for the life of me, figure out a way to go up and say hi…so I figured if I got his attention, he could do half the work…so I threw a peanut at him. Yes, I hit the poor unsuspecting stranger with a peanut. He lucked out I was eating something light…I could be eating beef ribs. Anyhow, we talked and hung out, so it was a happy story…the two of us cruised through 3 different bars in Berlin and ended up in some really awesome goth club playing amazing industrial music. At the end up the night, our intro somehow came up…and he made a comment of, “You know, you could just come up and say hi. Throwing peanuts at me was kind of rude, I almost got up and left.” My reply was a simple statement, “No, you weren’t.” He wasn’t going anywhere far as I was concerned…so yeah, I don’t lack confidence…I’m just a bumbling idiot a lot of the times.
Back to shaving my hair…don’t worry about encouraging me or discouraging me. My guy friends that are encouraging me are freaking me out…they seem excited about it. Down, boys! My friends that are discouraging me…I love them, and while I understand it’s nice if I try to improve their view by being less of an eye-sore, I am by no means contractually obliged to do so. My sister HATES the idea, she got really upset when I mentioned it to her…she told me I shouldn’t do so, and that she refuses to have any part in it. I told her, “Yes, I know you would refuse to shave me. I’ve already got Brian on stand-by.” I figured my best friend would lop all my hair off, I’ll cry because I’m a silly girl, he’ll give me a hug and we’ll go out for beer. Then when I go into work and people ask what happened to my hair, I’ll just tell them, “Brian and I got drunk and he shaved all my hair off.”
I’m at a point in my life where I “can” actually do this…I should take advantage of that while I can. I figure if need be, I can make up for my lack of hair with personality...and by personality I mean a padded bra.

Hiking Summary

2006-07-06T08:12:00.000-07:00

I’ve had a few friends asking me about hiking, so I figured I need a spot to compile all the hikes I’ve done since I started blogging to give people an idea of what to expect. I highly recommend everyone at least go and hike Mt. Si to give themselves something to measure the hikes against. I say Si because it’s extremely close, and from talking to various people, that will either traumatize you from hiking forever or get you so hooked you can’t think of doing anything else. Also, I tend to not want to hike anything much easier than Si...so if you're still in hiking mood after Si, let's talk.

Note: Stats start to make a lot more sense after a few hikes because they really do help in giving you an idea of what to expect. Also it gives more room for bragging rights, and god knows, it's ALL ABOUT bragging rights.

Mount Si: 4/1/06, 4/29/06, 5/8/06, 7/12/06, 9/09/06,
Blurb: Great place for quick workout, trail is packed to death.
-RT: 8 mi
-Gain: 3100 ft
-Max Elev: 3600 ft

Oyster Dome: 4/8/06
Blurb: Lots of local school kids hiking here, a bit far for drive.
-RT: 8 mi
-Gain: 3000 ft
-Max Elev:

Mailbox Peak: 4/22/06, 5/27/06, 8/10/06, 10/07/06
Blurb: My favorite local thigh burner hike.
-RT: 8 mi
-Gain: 4041 ft
-Max Elev: 4841 ft

Mount Pilchuck: failed 4/15/06, 5/06/06
Blurb: Bring snowshoes if it's not late summer, otherwise it's impossible to get to the top.
-RT: 6 mi
-Gain: 2200 ft
-Max Elev: 5324 ft

Bandera Mountain: 5/20/06
Blurb: Very exposed trail, bring sunscreen.
-RT: 9 mi
-Gain: 2850ft
-Max Elev: 5400 ft

Enchantment Lakes: 6/3/06
Blurb: So so pretty, try to spend a few days here. Permit required in season for backpacking.
-RT: 13.5 mi
-Gain: 4020 ft
-Max Elev: 5420 ft

Camp Muir: 6/10/06
Blurb: Holy mother of god!
-RT: 9.2 mi
-Gain: 4600 ft
-Max Elev: 10050 ft

Granite Mountain: 6/18/06
Blurb: Ratings seems harder than it really is.
-RT: 8 mi
-Gain: 3800 ft
-Max Elev: 5629 ft

Tatoosh Ridge and Lookout: 6/24/06
Blurb: Oddly enough, feels harder than it looks.
-RT: 9.5 mi
-Gain: 3430 ft
-Max Elev: 6310 ft

Rattlesnake Mountain: 7/1/06
Blurb: Pretty easy, bring DEET.
-RT: 8.6 mi
-Gain: 2700 ft
-Max Elev: 3480 ft

Mount Dickerman: 7/8/06
Blurb: Too beautiful for words!
-RT: 8.5 mi
-Gain: 3900 ft
-Max Elev: 5723 ft

Green Mountain: 7/16/06
Blurb: Gorgeous place. Starts out super easy, ends with a burn.
-RT: 8 mi
-Gain: 3000 ft
-Max Elev:

Peggy's Pond and Mount Daniel: 7/21/06
Blurb: Backpack out to the pond was easy with a bit of scary scramble at the end. Mt Daniel is scary, not hard, but scary.
-RT: -
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Hester Lake: 7/29/06
Blurb: Stupid easy but long.
-RT: 11 mi
-Gain: 2950 ft
-Max Elev: 3900 ft

Ptarmigan Ridge: 8/5/06
Blurb: Stupid easy but beautiful and well worth the trip.
-RT: 10 mi
-Gain: 2200 ft
-Max Elev:

Tuck and Robin Lakes + Trico and Granite Mountains: 8/7/06
Blurb: Very fun trail
-RT: 19 mi
-Gain:
Max Elev:

Gothic Basin and Gothic Peak: 8/19/06
Blurb:
-RT: 12 mi
-Gain:
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McClellan Butte: 8/26/06
Blurb:
-RT: 8.8 mi
-Gain: 3800
-Max Elev:

Mount Pugh: 9/3/06
Blurb:
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Mount Saint Helen: 9/16/06
Blurb:
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Buck Creek Pass: 9/20-21/06
Blurb:
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Headlee Pass: 9/24/06
Blurb:
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Vesper Peak: 9/30/06
Blurb:
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Vesper Peak: 9/30/06
Blurb:
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Rachel Lake and Rampart Ridge:10/14/06
Blurb:
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Enchantment Lakes: 10/20-22/06
Blurb:
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Mount Defiance: 10/28/06
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Last Editted: 10/29/06

Doggie Style

2006-07-05T08:30:00.000-07:00

I thought about working all day on 4th of July…then I thought I ought to hang myself for passing up all the party invites. And I figured I need to get my pastey white self out for a tan…and I always look for cheap excuses to jump into a bikini.
My buddy, Fraser, was throwing a party with a bunch of his buddies, where they planned to tie four boats together then have 3-4 giant floating fun islands tied together with various rafts and what-nots. It was pretty hard to pass up, especially since they were having it at the park that I stop by to walk at everyday after work.
Fraser rowed a raft out to get me when I got there, I asked him if he would end up shuttling people all day, he said, nope, I get to shuttle the next person. It ended up being a brilliant plan with the person getting shuttled to be the next shuttler. After an hour or two, people were drunk and pushing the raft around while swimming around, so that part was more than taken care off.
I met a gal, Becka, there who is a producer on some tight-deadlined project. She told me she insisted her team takes the day off, because the way she sees it, the client will not remember a year from now if they were one day late on the project, but her team will remember having to work on the 4th.
I swam and drank for as long as I could (actually, I can’t swim…in the words of Cartman, I do it doggie-style, I can’t tread water, if I stop, I drown)…then went off to work. It was a good day. I seem to be sporting a nasty bruise that I'm not sure how it got there, but my guess is: being wet + alcohol + leaping from boat to boat = what the fuck was I thinking!?

Reality Check

2006-07-03T23:40:00.000-07:00

Crunch mode at work has a way of warping reality. It almost feels like I’m high and time loses all meaning. All I could wrap my head around was if statements…then I picked up one of my new books that came in today from Amazon while I was building the project. Dispatches From the Edge, by Anderson Cooper will fuck with your head if it’s lost in some Star Wars Universe…hell, seeing those words in the same sentence just now fucked with my head. It’s just so strange to be completely lost in a video game world and then read, “In the next two hours, tsunami waves strike ten other countries. More than two hundred thousand people will die.” I had to pause a moment to figure out where I was…seriously the idea that people die was beyond my comprehension at that snap second in time…it didn’t seem real. I’m about quarter of the way through the book now, it’s really good, I highly recommend it. I did comment to Brian how inappropriately depressing that book is for me right now...he mentioned I could go back to reading Thus Spake Zarathustra, by Nietzsche for even greater depression. I've been reading that for over a year now...I'm not even done with Part One on that, it is too depressing...that it has taken me that fucking long to read the thing.
Yes, I will be working ALL of July 4th, we’re making the game for a British company, and we can’t exactly expect them to celebrate our independence from them. We’re supposed to turn something in on the 5th then go on bug fix patrol from there. Don’t feel too bad for me…soon as we wrap up, I’m packing my bag and heading for the woods. I’m actually going to ignore my stupid fear of being out in the woods alone at night and try a solo trip, so I’m checking around for a decently populated trail. I figure that way, if I get eaten by bears, someone might find my teeth and let my family know…that my upper left molar could probably use more filling.
I’m currently undecided between checking out a section of the Pacific Crest Trail (I’m still thinking about thru-hiking that someday), Mount St Helen Park, or Olympic Park.

Blog Already

2006-07-02T13:36:00.000-07:00

You! Yeah, I'm talking to you. Can you go write a blog or something and send me a link? Because aside from it sucking to high heaven when I have to spend all my time at work, I also run out of shit to read online. Blogs are great for that because a typical entry is like 2-3 minutes of pure entertainment which is about how long I have when I'm building the project. So in between debugging stuff, I get a nice dose of brain candy. Right now, I've eaten EVERY bit of brain candy available...yes, I have read EVERYTHING on the web... It's possible, I'm sure of it. Go ahead, ask me anything, I won't have an answer because I'm also amazingly stupid now because of all the worthless crap I've read. Yay me! So go blog!

Rattlesnake Mountain

2006-07-02T09:36:00.000-07:00

Rattlesnake Mountain is a very good day hike if you don’t have a lot of time to drive far from Seattle and you don’t want to hike with ALL of Seattle over at Mount Si. The hike is actually pretty damned easy, this book I got labeled it as harder than Mount Si, but I think it’s about the same or easier. The hardest thing about this hike is trying to fend off the mosquitoes, god damned there was a fuck ton of mosquitoes. The even worse part about the bugs was the fact that they start getting really bad only after reaching Rattlesnake Ledge at 2.0 miles…which is where everyone stops because they’re lame ass hippies…so I was their sole source of food.
I need to start carrying some DEET. The only good thing about those blood sucking bastards is the fact that they made me RUN through the hike. Yeah, my little legs have never carried me faster through a hike before. Thanks for the good work-out, mosquitoes, but I hope you all burn in hell, especially the huge fat fucker that bit me on my thumb knuckle. That one in particular was so freaking huge, I screamed like a little girl when I saw it chowing on me. Not sure how it got there without my noticing, they must have ninja training or something.
Minus the nasty little bloodsuckers, the second half of the hike was absolutely lovely. There was NO ONE on the trail (I saw maybe four people on the way back down), and the trail changed to this beautiful densely packed forest. It was probably one of my favorite forest-type to hike in. You feel like you’re actually in the woods and nicely shielded from the sun.
The viewpoint at the 4 miles mark was absolutely disappointing; I think the one back at 2 miles was much better. There were too much shrubs and such up top to get a decent unobstructed view. There was also a huge antenna doohickey up there…and I seem to have forgotten my lead helmet at home, so the tumor in my head probably just doubled in size from all the happy radiation.
Bugs, cancer, and shitty view aside, I really enjoyed this hike.

Having not drank in so long, I’m surprised I’m not hungover from being out last night. I had around 5 beers, 4 shots of somethin’ or another, and 2 jello shots…I guess it’s not that much, but again, I haven’t been boozing it up. Sung and Brian are both recent singles, so I guess that translates to I will end up drinking a lot more when my project finishes…if it ever finishes.
I haven’t really hung out with Sung’s friends much before, so I’m very happy to say, they’re all a great bunch. Just goofy, easy going, fun loving types. At some point during the night, the guys were playing grab-ass…I don’t know why, but this game seems to always come up with straight men (I’ve hung out with very gay groups, it seems their favorite drunk game tends to be titty-pinch). I opted out of the grab-ass game much to the dismay of the men, because the target’s girlfriend was standing right there…and while they say it’s okay…in my experience, the potential for it not being okay, far outweighs the okay. I guess I’m a prude about these, things…I tend to err on the side of showing a little more respect for the gal. All in all, the night was awesome, it’s a much needed break, because god knows, I will probably be working no less than 12 hours today.

Some Bitch with that Whine

2006-07-01T18:16:00.000-07:00

You know...I had hoped that a nice morning hike would make working on a very sunny Saturday suck a few less donkey balls...but it doesn't. So here we go...whine, whine, whine, bitch, bitch, bitch. Okay, I can shut the fuck up about work already and move onto bigger and better things...like plans to go dancing and drinking later. Now I remember why I became such an alcoholic...working insane hours will do that to you. Oh, and don't anyone try and ask me what I'm doing on the 4th, because even if I can't kick you in the crotch right now, I will remember to do so at the earliest opportunity. I'm a girl, I remember these important details. I definitely don't want to hear from my friends that aren't crunching at working taking some 4 day weekend to backpack.

The Masochist

2006-07-01T07:08:00.000-07:00

Being that I have to work all weekend, I figure I would have to skip hiking this weekend...then I realize I don't want to. So, the Saint Bernard should go to Rattlesnake Mountain...which is another 2 miles past Rattlesnake Ledge. And then work.
I was just reading this article this morning. I wonder how close to reality that is, because if it's true, I'm going to be such an asshole to my body. My knees are going to get ripped to shreds. I wonder how many other masochistic sporting assholes out there are rubbing their hands alongside me, delighting in the pain they're about to push themselves into.
I know I might sound a bit whiney far as work goes...but really, I do love my job. I love the people I work with. I love that they're okay with me sending out mass email, telling everyone to watch this. It's a good place to be.

In Other Universe

2006-06-29T08:41:00.000-07:00

Bleh, after much belly aching about my lame little universe I figure I should move onto bigger and better things. Like improving the LEGO Star Wars Universe. We have a week and counting of days left to finish up the game and all is not well. We wanted everything to be in the game and sometimes, everything is a bit much. Every game programmer has something that they absolutely must have in the game, or they will die…or shrivel up to a whiny little snot. For me it was Emperor Palpatine’s special move, force shock. Every cool character has a special move, Darth Vader gets force choking, Slave Leia gets the special dance that stuns nearby enemies… Palpatine is character you unlock by beating the game, and he was borrowing his ability from Vader with force choking which bugged me. So I had to get force shocking in. And if you put force shocking in the game, what better way is there to test the ability than to populate the world with Ewoks and shocking the fuck out of them? There really isn’t a better way, that’s what!
Sung invited me out to see Superman Returns in 3-D at IMAX with his crew last night. I have to say, the 3-D effect wasn’t too bad, it’s still not as good as Captain EO for those old enough to have seen it before Michael became known as the perve. The movie is so-so…it’s a movie I would have seen even if it sucked, so umm….overall, it was good eye candy for the ladies. Superman is stalker. Seriously, if he’s not good looking and has super power, Lois Lane would be slapping a restraining order on him so fast. And Lois is a floozie...because if your boyfriend is a superhero and he leaves for two days, you should sleep around on him, and while you're at it, you should blog a bunch of crap about him, because it's not like he has a world of mental issues to deal with. If you're a superhero, you should always dispense of your sage advice by means of creepy whispering in people's ears while they sleep. All in all, the movie was fun.

The Favorite Child

2006-06-27T23:34:00.000-07:00

The assholes that I sometimes call my “friends” sent me pictures of the backpacking trip that I missed over the weekend. I scoffed at them because I had an awesome time working on a sunny Sunday and not sobbing quietly at my keyboard. Ack, I probably will not get another day off for two weeks, so not even a one day hike this coming weekend. *sniff* Work is getting insane, we just got our deadline cut by a week, which means we’re going to have to live at work for a bit if we want everything done on time.
I woke up at 6:30 on Monday and finally drafted the letter I had to write for my dad. I had been dragging my feet on that, but it turned out easier than I thought. It’s never really that hard to write a bunch of nice things about someone that you love (think big halibut!). I sent it off to my father’s divorce attorney lady for approval before I write the thing by hand…been so long since I’ve picked up a pen, not sure I know how to use one. What I got back as replies tore me apart.
I don’t know if my letter made him sound like a saint or she simply wanted me to make him out to be one because she kept telling me…oh maybe you should mention this…or you forgot to say that. It kills me because everything that she mentioned that I might have “forgotten” to mention wasn’t forgotten. He isn’t that man. He is my father, the man with lots of faults. The man who cheats on his wife excessively, lies to his family, beats his wife and children, and gambles away fortunes. Everything she says brings back an age old question of, why do I defend a man that has caused my family so much pain? Simply…I will always stand by the ones that I love. And honestly, he truly is a good father to me. I do wonder sometimes, if at least one person on the planet knows you inside-out and loves you for who you are, how bad of a person can you be?
I feel a guilt trip coming on. I know I’m going to get the…well, if you love your father so, why can’t you embellish the truth a bit to help him out? Because I stand by my belief that I do whatever helps me sleep best at night, I can not “embellish” even to help a loved one. I’m not even sure if I’m truly helping at that point. I simply hope that if I can’t deliver what the attorney needs that my father still understands that I did the best that I can, and that I didn’t take the easy way out by walking away.
She keeps mentioning that I’m “his favorite one”, which really only irks me. I’m not competing with my siblings for my parents’ love. If by “favorite”, she meant “grown child that doesn’t have a No Contact Order on him” than yeah, I guess I’m a favorite…I guess that’s something I could puff up proudly and announce at the next big family gathering. Otherwise, what does it matter, I wish for my parents to love us all equally.
As a kid, you look to your parents to teach you right from wrong, they have all the answers. As an adult, you realize your parents are only human and that they actually do “wrong”…it’s up to you to understand that they are perhaps still growing like you, and trying to figure stuff out. Sometimes the roles will reverse, and you will end up being the person that have to teach your parents what it means to be patient, to show kindness, to love, and to understand. There are times in the past when my mother had expressed anger when I help my father because of her understandable bitterness toward him, all I can do is remind her, "Mother, I'm simply doing what you've taught me all my life. That no matter what, the two of you are my parents. And as such, I will always try my best to honor the two of you." I’m so tired; my family has a way of picking out bad timing on my work schedule to stir drama.
People often say they simply wish to be loved, but when that is exactly all that you offer them…quite often it’s not enough. After all, when you get down to it, if you offer me your love or a piece of steak…I’m going to have to investigate on the quality and preparation of said choice of beef before I take my pick. Awww…think about it, there’s actually a slight chance that I might take your love over some over-cooked Grade F meat-product, that’s pretty good of me. *puffs up proudly and goes to bed*

Seward Park tonight.-->

Boo on the Sun

2006-06-25T13:39:00.000-07:00

Ooooh...so hard to come into work today. Sunny day. Fuck you, sun! ...Oh baby, I'm sorry, you know I don't mean that. I only wish to spend more time with you. But I can't, because you see baby, I have this annoying habit called paying bills, and that means job. So I have to work today. So stop taunting me when I have to work on a Sunday. We can play when I die and have to burn in hell, because you are the burninating master.
It really doesn't help that some of my friends are off backpacking some really cool trails. Hmmm...I'm going to have a bunch of weekdays off soon and no one to backpack with...maybe should try solo backpacking too.

Tatoosh Ridge

2006-06-25T09:29:00.000-07:00

God damned the drive to Tatoosh Ridge was far…I wanted some alone time but 2+ hours of driving is a bit more than I had in mind. I didn’t realize how far it was when I was looking at the map, I just wanted a tough hike with gorgeous view. There’s not that many from the WTA site that looks any closer (I generally look for “Most Difficult” + “Best” or “Pretty Good”). I plugged the address into my car GPS in the morning and thought about maybe switching back to Mount Si…but I really didn’t want to.
The trail was excellent for solitude hiking because there really wasn’t anyone there. Most of the hike up the initial part of the trail was like any other hikes…lots of trees…lots of bugs. Oh god, the bugs! Actually there were more bugs per square inch than all my other hikes combined. Swarming! Nothing bad and bloodsucking, just gross. It’s yechy to hike through a cloud of gnats, they just cover you. Even though I know they’re not trying to eat me alive, it’s unnerving to see my arm dotted with these little bugs…not to mention you end up breathing them in…getting them in your mouth and sinus. EEEEK! Oh…and in the forest part of the hike, it was like spider D-Day. Seriously they were just dive bombing from trees everywhere. I found yet another good reason to bring a wide brimmed hat, because it’s infinitely better to have spiders hanging from your hat than crawling along your breasts. EEEEEK!
Getting out in clearing up top was so nice, even with the sun cooking me alive. I’m sunburned all over again. Even my girls are getting toasty…I seem to have forgotten to put sunscreen on them, because contrary to male fantasies, we don’t sit around rubbing lotion on our breasts all the time.
I really really lucked out though because right around 2/3 of the way, a couple hiked up and apparently they had hiked this trail about half dozen times. They were my tour guide angels because for the last mile or so, the trail was completely covered in the snow without any old tracks to lead me to the lookout point.
As we hiked along, they suddenly stopped and pointed behind me, Mount Rainier appeared out of no where. They were just adorable people with a lot of hiking experience, they mentioned that they were surprised to see me there because hardly anyone hikes there (I really lucked out in finding them). The dude was even more of an angel by leading the way and helping with kicking in steps in the snow (kicking in steps is so fucking unbelievably tiring). I seriously would not have made it to Tatoosh Lookout without them.
The place is just unbelievable…the view…stunning. After we rounded the first ridge, the guy said they were stopping because he was too tired to go on. I look up at the viewpoint that was oh so close and yet so far, and freaking covered in snow…and bid them farewell. I didn’t make it this far to stop.
I slogged on, at least at this place even if I tip over the edge and fell, it looks like a slightly less steep dropping…it’ll hurt yeah, but I’ll probably still have a few of my teeth and live to tell. I still think I’m sometimes God’s idea of a bad joke...I can see it now:
Let’s make a girl that loves hiking really hard hikes so she’ll need lots of elevation gain to enjoy it, and then let’s give her an insane fear of height. Excellent! This is almost better than making her love video games but they make her sick to her stomach. Brilliant!
I got to the top of the lookout…and WOW…360 view…Mount Rainier up close, Mount Adams right behind me, Mount St Helen next to it. I can even see a bit of Mount Hood. The day was just so beautiful and clear. Ever see anything so beautiful it makes you stop breathing, and it overwhelms you so much you almost want to cry? Yeah, well...me neither. *flexes biceps* I figured I must be getting all emotional from being tired and hungry (I'm a big girl, I'm allowed to cry when I'm hungry), so I sat down and ate lunch on that ridge in between all those mountains. I sat and stared at the crag on Rainier where Muir is tucked in…I still remember how much I wished to be able to camp there two weekends ago. I still hope to do so some time this year.
At some point during lunch, I heard the other two hikers stomping their way up. They got up, looked around and smiled…and the guy thanked me for hiking up, “I wouldn’t have continued on if you didn’t.” I thanked them both in return, “I wouldn’t have even gotten to that first ridge without the two of you.” Nice to see that I could inspire them to keep trekking, missing the view from where they first stopped would have been such a pity.
I feel a bit bad that many prehistoric animals died to fuel my trip out there…but god damned, the place was so beautiful. I keep thinking on the way up, why they hell did I drive all the out there just to hike around some mountain, and then it all comes together when you’re at the top…even on the path back, just watching Rainier along the path back…so beautiful it hurts.
Photos from the trip here.

Call Off the Search and Rescue!

2006-06-24T22:09:00.000-07:00

I live...but if you were planning to send in a Saint Bernard with a drink thingie, go ahead and send it my way. I'm even more sun burned...definitely extra crispy, maybe even crusty on the edges. Also coated in salt by the end of the trail.-->

The Hike Goes On

2006-06-24T08:07:00.000-07:00

I think I'm going to solo hike Tatoosh Ridge today. So if you don't hear from the short girl soon, send in the rescue crew!

Pill Popper

2006-06-20T08:54:00.000-07:00

I know I’ve been in a bit too much of a health kick lately, but honestly, I think it’s keeping me sane and happy during this crunch mode. Working no less than 6 days a week, some 9-12 hours a day, I always tend to burn out, then get sick on and off. I’m feeling pretty damned good these days. The beauty of spending a lot of time hiking/backpacking is that it makes you want to take good care of your body. When I used to drink like a fish (yeah, yeah, that’s like all of two-three months ago)…I would drink to the point where my body feels like crap and all I could say is, “Oh yeah!? Well, you’re going to take the crap I give you, and like it dammit!” Now that I’m hiking, I’m thinking I should treat myself better so that I could last longer. It’s hard to not grow an appreciation for what your body can handle. I really wouldn’t mind being one of those people that never stop hiking even in their 70s. I would love to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail some day.
So I just started taking some multi-vitamins again. I tried getting into that habit a few years ago when my doctor told me it’s a good idea even if I am pretty healthy. I looked at the pills and remembered why I quit. Those pills are ginormous…you should always have a good friend nearby that is well skilled in the Heimlich maneuver when attempting to take these things.
I can live with the idea of dying in some bad backpacking accident...but death by multivitamin? I'll have to kick my own ass after I go into the light.

In Need of a Crayon

2006-06-19T23:38:00.000-07:00

My dad called me up at 8 this morning. I was already up and reading, but you know what…it’s still freaking 8am. He needed some info for his divorce attorney…and I had previously asked to speak to her regarding the letter I needed to write for him. Why’s that? Well…apparently I had been sleeping during the section in Freshman Writing 101 on “How to plead with the court to not sentence your father to jail for forever.” So, I just needed some formatting guidelines. Two inches on each edge maybe? No flowery borders? Should I print it on vellum or lacy pink stationery?
So the attorney gets on the phone and for some odd reason she decides she has to butter me up.
Attorney lady: Hi, Champagne, nice talking to you. Your dad told me lots of nice things about you. You know you’re his favorite daughter.
Me: Aw, that’s great, but there are only two of us, so I had a fifty-fifty chance in being the favorite.
Attorney lady: Sorry, what was that?
Me: Oh nothing, so about the letter…
It’s 8am, I’m allowed to amuse myself a bit. I thought it was funny that she would tell me I’m his “favorite”…who the hell does that? I assumed that it’s common knowledge that you’re not supposed to play favorites out in the open?
I moved onto asking how I should address the letter and what the court is expecting. She told me to just stick with telling the court about how he’s been a good father to me…oh and it should be handwritten, so it looks more personal.
This reminds me of those new road signs on some highways, with something like, “Drive carefully, my daddy works here” in a font that looks like a five-years old wrote that sign…it kinda works by tugging at your heart a bit. So I’m thinking I need to pick up a tablet of that nappy fibery newsprint that kids write on in kindergarten…you know, the kind of paper that a simple pink eraser could tear a hole into with two rubs? I’ll get some of that, and compose the letter with a fat red crayon.
*sigh* I know this has the potential to get messy…it probably will not only be a letter. I’ve already come to terms with that. I’ve figured out this much, if you’re going to do something for someone out of love, be prepared for the bumpy ride…because if you’re going to resent them at the end of it, you might as well as not have bothered at all.
And we end with, Seattle tonight.-->

Granite Mountain

2006-06-18T09:45:00.000-07:00

I went to Starbucks to meet up with Dave at 9. At about 15 after, I was thinking maybe the boy was too hungover or something again. I called him and it turns out he was in the other Starbucks in the plaza. Fuck you, Starbucks! Do you really need TWO Starbucks in the exact same tiny plaza within throwing distance of each other?
We set off for Granite Mountain some 30-40 minutes away. It’s so nice to go hiking with an old friend, the drive is shorter and the hike seems less strenuous. It could actually be because the hike was pretty tame, but having the two of us talk our heads off the entire time does make time fly.
Apparently Dave has been hiking/backpacking since he was seventeen…it seems the entire world has been hiking/backpacking since their teens, where the fuck was I!!? Did the world conspire to be more outdoorsy than me while I slept away my teenage years? He mentioned that he had tried to get me to go hiking with him a good few times back in the days. I asked him, “Did I tell you to go fuck yourself?” He replied, “Yeah, I think you did.” Sounds about right.
It’s strange to hangout with an old party friend in a very sober environment. Every other sentence is, “Did I tell you about…?” And, “Yeah, it sounds familiar…we probably talked about that while we were smashed…”
I kept wondering the whole way up how this hike could be considered “Most Difficult” by the WTA…it really wasn’t that hard…until the end. As we neared the top, we saw a few different groups of hiker camping down for lunch, it’s rare that hikers make it so close to the top and not attempt it. We spoke to one of the guy and he told us that the end consists of a giant boulder field or trekking through a narrow snowy ledge, he warned us that the boulder field is a pretty tough climb while the snow ledge has a sharp drop-off to the side if we slip. I must have looked a bit worried because Dave asked if I wanted to just stop there like so many others. I didn’t even have to think about it, “Fuck no!”
Daniel had remarked a few times how tough I am, but what he doesn’t know is, I’m about 99% stubborn and 1% tough. It’s why I worry that I might get into something that is over my head, because I would be too stubborn to know when to quit and would end up breaking myself.
We ended up climbing the boulder field because my lame ass is extremely afraid of height and that sharp drop down with many boulders to catch your fall looks like too much joy to be had for me. Dave was in heaven with the boulder field, he's like a happy mountain goat there. This particular boulder field was different from any other that I’ve climbed up because many of the boulders were the size of me or larger, so they don’t form a tight pack together, so if you fall into some of the gaps between them, it’s a long way down, and it might smart a little if you get stabbed by a giant rock. Dave commented on how much harder it seems for me to climb because I have shorter legs, I told him I have a handy Swiss Army knife with a wood saw tool to reduce his leg length if he wanted the extra challenge.
As I scampered up the boulder field slowly, some dude without a shirt went leaping by, bouncing from the top of one sharp boulder edge to the next. Crazy. When we got to the top, the dude without a shirt was still shirtless. I dragged out every article of warm clothing I owned to ward off the chill and made some hot chai.
We ended up sitting at the top and chatting for a long while. I told Dave how happy I was that we can actually do something healthy together. When I told him that I stopped hanging out because I got sick of the “getting wasted” part, he told me I should have just said something, because he thought I was mad at them all these years. That’s a bit heartbreaking, I didn’t stop to think that my walking away from my friends could leave them thinking I hated them. I love Dave, he really is a good friend…I guess I was just being a bit gutless by disappearing. Dave told me even if I didn’t want to drink, I could have just hung out and not drink…I stared at him, “Seriously now, you think that was going to happen?” He laughed.
On the way home, Dave invited me out to join my old drinking crew, I told him I had to pass. Then at 1:30am Dave drunk dials me to try and get me out again. I can hear in the background, our buddy, Kevin was shouting random things that he wanted Dave to throw into the message. Some things never change.

Old Friend of the Lizard

2006-06-16T22:40:00.000-07:00

I’m shedding my skin…like a little lizard except without the cool eyeball licking ability. My sunburn is starting to “heal” I think. I know it’s gross, but peeling off your skin is oddly entertaining…hours of fun to be had sitting in front of the mirror trying to tear off the biggest flake of skin. Reminds me of being in elementary school, we would put Elmer’s glue on the back of our hands and peel it off when it dries to create this patch of fake dead skin. Did I mention I’m easily entertained?

My coworkers gathered for beer Friday again today, I told them I had to pass…so that I can go home and read. A couple guys came by to check my forehead. Another guy told them to maybe not stand so close to me since “not-drinking” could cause instability in me, thus promoting violent tendency. Smart asses.

I’ve got a pretty early hike tomorrow that I’m very excited about, partly for the hiking, but mostly for my partner in crime. This morning, I text messaged my old roommate, Dave, whom I hadn’t seen in about two-three years now and asked him if he wanted to go hike with me. He promptly replied with a yes. I really miss Dave. We were old drinking buddies that became roommates because I just ended up crashing at his place all the time along with the party crew, I kind of fell out of touch with him because of that fact. I didn’t feel like drinking so damned much at some point…by damned much, I mean no less than ten beers…that's just on weeknights. Because we were roommates, we were pretty close friends, but still we were bad influence on each other. Sometimes, you just have to let a friend go when you’re not in the same place in your life. He used to randomly go hiking and backpacking with his stepfather and I would always give him shit back then. So…I just remembered that he loves being outdoors so I’ve brought him back to my life, hopefully to be better influence on each other this time. He was so excited when I spoke to him earlier asking if he need his ice axe and crampons. I told him, "Dude, I’m not that hardcore, just bring your boots, gaiters, and titanium cup." He was still giddy. The hike I have in mind for tomorrow is pretty evil, and he hasn't hike for a good half a year, I hope his giddiness will endure.
Seattle tonight.-->

A Little Wallpaper of Good Cheer

2006-06-15T21:48:00.000-07:00

I’ve been a bit under the weather lately…it’s not like I’m feeling sick, but I know I am sick. I know this because I lose my appetite when I’m sick. I opted to skip lunch today so Brian bought me some lunch while he was out with the lunch crew. He came back with two giant slabs of ribs and a side of chicken wings (this is my typical order, meat with a side of meat…did I mention I’m a carnivore?) and normally when a guy does this for me, I declare my undying love for him. Today, I looked through the boxes…a bit confused by these cook animal flesh stuff, thanked him and pushed it aside (if you know me at all, this is a sign that I’m on my death bed). I went back to work. Some while later an artist came by with some questions and I nearly stabbed him for no good apparent reason…he asked a very simple question about whether we can repurpose the same tree for two things. The answer is always a simple, no we can’t have something looking exactly the same and doing two things, just change the color on the tree…I contemplated strangle him with my mouse cord. I had to calm myself down and wonder what the hell is wrong with me…cover your eyes boys… Time of the month? No. Indigestion? No, I haven’t eaten yet… Hey, that’s it, it’s freaking 5pm and I have yet to eat.
I’m a simple creature, I don’t feel like eating when I get sick. I get cranky as fuck when I’m hungry; even if I don’t know I am…food go in the pie-hole NOW!!!
I decided to leave work early today, and by early, I mean work a normal 8 hour day…unheard of during crunch mode. I made a little detour to my favorite park on the way home. Being that it’s actually really early out (7pm early!), I got to wander around in the woods part of the park where the boogey monsters are still asleep. I hadn’t seen this part of the park in years; it’s even more beautiful than I remembered it.
Considering how many people wander around this park I was very surprised by the complete lack of people in the forest trail. I’m also a bit surprised by how few people come to this place when it’s so close to downtown Seattle. The view of downtown skyline is always gorgeous here.
This coming up month will be gloriously grueling with our project completion date set for mid July. You know it’s a bad sign when your project producer comes up to you, all giddy and excited, saying, “We found a 24-hour Starbucks nearby!” I just put up this picture as my computer wallpaper to remind myself to get out as soon as possible.Dorky, I know, but the good cheer from that trip has to last me another month. My old wallpaper rocks, but I've had it for years.And if you’re not familiar with Strong Bad or been out of touch with him lately, here’s a recent favorite of mine. Everyone that has been introduced to Strong Bad by a friend usually gets one that reminded someone of you...this is mine.

The Bastard and the Blogger

2006-06-14T22:14:00.000-07:00

I originally started this blog to give myself something to do when I’m hungover or too drunk to sleep. Now that my life is naturally selecting for less hungover/drunken babbling, I’ve rediscovered something about myself. I actually enjoy writing. If memory serves me correct, I used to love creative writing classes…then liberal arts college came along with its many term papers and stamped out all will to compose extraneous sentences.

I guess this is pretty much my way of expressing any creativity in me, because I can’t draw worth a damn like some Shawn person. Bastard! Seriously, don’t make me scare people with my stick figures again! I have done that…I told Brian on more than one occasion that I can’t even draw a stick figure. One day, he said, “That’s not possible that you can’t mess up a stick figure. Go draw one on the board.” I did. He started to say something nice about it then grimaced, “See, I told… Oh WOW, you really can’t draw a stick figure. What the hell is wrong with his head? It looks all crushed and the eyes make it look retarded.” STICK FIGURE! I got all that from drawing a stick figure…that coming from my best friend who was trying very hard to be encouraging too. Had it been anyone else, I’m sure that person would just turn to me and say, “You should saw your right hand off with a rusty butter knife and end the terror now.”

So this blog became my place to do some sober rambling, not much of a step forward. I do wonder sometimes if I stumbled upon this blog myself, (not belonging to me) would I care to read it. I would think maybe not initially, but now, I would totally read it just to see when the short Chinese gal would eat it. Yeah, I would rub my hands together after every weekend to await pictures of slings and casts. Don’t look at me like that, I would be nice about it and leave nice little comments, “Oh noes! Get well soon!” And then I’ll go back to my snickering. Then go back and be encouraging, “You know you just gotta get back on that horse! You canh dew eet!” *snicker*

I had a nasty migraine today. It might be a tumor? Of course it’s a tumor. Death had plans for me getting cirrhosis, but now, as a backup method, a tumor is implanted.

I’ve been swimming happily in my sea of new books, finished a short crappy book and a new comic book that I’ve been waiting half a year for. I started on four of the other books then finally settled happily on Rebel Without a Crew, by Robert Rodriguez who wrote and directed my favorite segment in “Four Rooms: The Misbehavers” (this also came highly recommended from Ian who decided I would love this book based on books that I like, he was sooo right). It’s a fucking hilarious book. In the beginning he talks about being a human guinea pig to raise money for his first film, “El Mariachi” (I need to see this)…some of the stuff they go through as a lab rat is insane...hell they watched another rat group on low-fat/low-cal diet go insane. Thing I love the most about non-fiction books is, you almost always come away learning something new and interesting whether you dig the subject or not.

Hello, my name is Cranky McBitch.

2006-06-13T23:58:00.000-07:00

My sister wanted to go drinking tonight…but I had to pass because I’ve been a bit cranky lately…and she’s still a scary malnourished vegetarian. While I’m sure there could be endless comedic value in, “So Cranky McBitch and her sister, Fainting Goat, walks into the bar…” It’s not always that fun to live the joke.
Amazon finally got their shit together and sent me my orders at long last. An entire month’s worth of drug supply minus the Van Gogh book which is further delayed for TWO months…so suddenly I have 11 new books to keep me happy.
Seattle tonight. -->