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Jaybro
Social climber
wuz real!
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Jun 20, 2008 - 02:03am PT
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Now that, was a Quality speculative narative!
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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Jun 20, 2008 - 02:20am PT
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hey there ... jello... say, i was getting worried about you... nice to see where you were.. and nice to see that your're home...
welcome home and a rich "god bless!"
from neebee, you see... :)
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SteveW
Trad climber
The state of confusion
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Jun 20, 2008 - 08:27am PT
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Wow, not only many goddesses on this post, but a new L thriller,
And Jello and Tar back on the same day!
WHOOOPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111
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Mighty Hiker
Social climber
Vancouver, B.C.
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Jun 20, 2008 - 12:47pm PT
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Jello's last post to ST was on May 15th, 2008.
Edit: That is, his last post as jeplowe(at)netscape.com, according to the "search forum for messages by" feature - maybe he has another e-mail?
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nita
climber
chica from chico, I don't claim to be a daisy
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Jun 20, 2008 - 12:52pm PT
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MH, Jello's last post was yesterday.
Jello, Welcome Home, hope you had a fun trip..We missed you. :-)
edit: L, you are a crack-up!... Could you make that cake for the facelift? It will be Crimpie's 37th Birthday, she is probably longing for a bit- O -Midwest.
I'm also kinda interested in seeing and tasting your midwest foodstuff.. sounds good gross. ;-)
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Crimpergirl
Social climber
Boulder, Colorado!
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Jun 20, 2008 - 01:54pm PT
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Ack, I've got whipped cream in my hair!
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SteveW
Trad climber
The state of confusion
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Jun 20, 2008 - 02:00pm PT
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Crimpie
Keep it there--I wanna picture Sunday!!!
:-)
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John Moosie
climber
Beautiful California
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Jun 20, 2008 - 03:34pm PT
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LOL, sounds like someone better email Jeff. L has the bit in her teeth and things are getting exciting. On second thought, lets keep quiet and see what else L comes up with. haha..
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Anastasia
climber
Not here
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Jun 20, 2008 - 03:50pm PT
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L!
You write the most fantastic stories. I hope you are keeping copies to put them in a book. Whatever the case, don't stop writing and keep that magic alive! You really have a great talent.
Crimpie,
You woke up with some whip cream on you? Wow girl, blonds really do get all the fun...
Now Jello!
See what happens when you work too much? Now put that pillow down and take that fork to the kitchen. You need to get some real food in you. Plus don't forget to get a full night's sleep.
Big Smiles,
AF
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L
climber
Eating sand on the shores of Malibu...
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 25, 2008 - 01:37am PT
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...and with that, Jello woke up in his bed, in his Eddie Bauer plaid flannel PJs...with a rather large 3-pronged serving fork in one hand, and a half-eaten pillow in the other...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Now that was a strange dream," Jello mumbled out loud, sounding much like The Godfather, and sat up.
"If you'd take the feathers out of your mouth, I could understand you better," said a soft little voice from the ceiling.
Jello looked up, startled, and there, perched on the window valance, sat Nita, the Faery Princess of TacoLand. She was wearing a lovely pink tu-tu, had glittering wings like a damselfly, and was surrounded in a faery halo of twinkling lights. Oh yes...and she was only 4 inches tall.
Naturally Jello choked on his midnight feather-snack.
Lucky for the rest of the story, Moosie the Woodman came tromping through the doorway just then, laid aside his 18 pound woodaxe, rolled up his LL Bean flannel shirtsleeves, and performed a perfect Heimlich Maneuver on Jello. Half a pillow of feathers shot into the air, then wafted gently to the floor...like so many snowflakes.
"Ooooooowww--so pretty!" whispered Lois, Queen of the Merck Manual, who had joined Nita on the valance. She was in a lovely powder-blue tu-tu, which accented her lavendar wings quite nicely. She, too, was a bit height-challenged...like around 3.75 inches tall.
"Are you OK, man?" Moosie asked Jello as he set him back on the floor.
"Yeah...uh...fine...'cept for maybe a broken rib or two," Jello squeaked out.
"I can help you with that!" offered Lois, her wings flittering excitedly.
"I think I'm OK...really, I am," Jello squeaked again. He turned to Moosie and squeaked some more. "You may have broken most of my ribs, but you saved my life, John!"
"That's cause Moosie has a heart," came a bubbly yet somewhat forlorn voice from the open window.
There stood Mighty Hiker, dressed like a dirtbag climber...with pieces of straw sticking out of his pilled Patagonia fleece jacket. "Oh, if only I had a heart, too!" he sighed.
By this time Jello had regained his crushed and feathered breath, and sat on the edge of his bed, his shimmering purple Eddie Bauer flannel PJs glowing in the moonlight. He looked around at the menagerie of characters occupying his room...at two in the morning...and a slow smile crawled across his face.
"I'm afraid I'm still dreaming, aren't I?" he asked somewhat philosophically of no one in particular.
"There's no reason to be afraid!" came a deep, rumbling voice from the closet, and out burst Tarbuster, a 10-gallon Stetson on his kingly head and an 8 foot lashing tail bringing up the rear.
"Fear is for the weak-minded and the weaker-willed. There's nothing to fear, not here nor anywhere--even on X and R routes!" he roared.
The room was so quiet, you could hear the feathers on the floor rustle.
Everyone looked at everyone else.
"Then why were you hiding in the closet?" asked Jello, whose eyelids were growing heavy and whose sense of self-preservation appeared to have headed south.
Tarbuster glared mightly at him.
Everyone in the room drew back in not-quite-fear, but something kinda similar, like terror, expecting mutilated Jello Dessert at any moment. Then, like a party balloon with a pin-hole in it, Tar looked down at his big furry paws and scuffed his feet...er...big furry paws, and whispered, "I was just...er...grrr...just trying to find my..."
"Jello...Jello dear...time to wake up," said the sweet, soft, feminine voice.
"Mom?" whispered a groggy and disoriented Jello.
There was a chorus of tinkling feminine giggles.
"Mom? Hahahaha! No silly, this is Anastasia...me and the girls are ready to finish the climb up Annapurna. If you sleep any longer, all the Train Wreck Jello Cake will be melted and we'll never top out..."
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John Moosie
climber
Beautiful California
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Jun 25, 2008 - 02:10am PT
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hahahaha.... Very funny L.
Whippieeeeeeeeeeeeee
I made it into a classic L story. Sorry Jello for the broken ribs. Lord I hope Jello wasn't in a train wreck.
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Jaybro
Social climber
wuz real!
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Jun 25, 2008 - 02:16am PT
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Im staying tuned...
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SteveW
Trad climber
The state of confusion
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Jun 25, 2008 - 08:22am PT
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It sounds to me like L has been eating too many of
those Jello cakes. . . or was it the kool-aid before
she headed off to dreamyland herself. . . .
:-)
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nita
climber
chica from chico, I don't claim to be a daisy
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Jun 25, 2008 - 11:34am PT
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Miss L, LOL...Funny story! Appearing in an L story is very much like appearing in a Ouch cartoon. First your surprised, then you laugh and feel a bit... ah shucks.:-)
L, Nita, the Faery...your going to ruffle someones faery wings with that quote....hee-he
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Ouch!
climber
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Jun 25, 2008 - 04:19pm PT
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Toker Villain
Big Wall climber
Toquerville, Utah
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Jun 25, 2008 - 04:31pm PT
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Proof that Jello has a strange nature.
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Ouch!
climber
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Jun 25, 2008 - 04:34pm PT
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Two good heads are better than none.
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Mighty Hiker
Social climber
Vancouver, B.C.
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Jun 25, 2008 - 04:41pm PT
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That's a rather interesting new way to do the downward dog!
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L
climber
Soy latte center of the Known Universe
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Topic Author's Reply - Jul 5, 2008 - 03:03am PT
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"Mom? Hahahaha! No silly, this is Anastasia...me and the girls are ready to finish the climb up Annapurna. If you sleep any longer, all the Train Wreck Jello Cake will be melted and we'll never top out..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ever so slowly, Jello crawled out from under the spreading branches of the Bodhi Tree where he’d been catching 40 winks, stuffed the half-eaten Train Wreck Jell-o Cake into his backpack, and followed Crimpie, Anastasia and L up the winding trail towards the peak of Annapurna.
But theirs was an expedition doomed from the beginning.
Halfway across a snow bridge—a snow bridge weakened by the insidious effects of The Myth of Global Warming—the mush beneath their cramponned-sandals began to give out. All four of our heroic mountaineers were looking at a 900 foot fall into an incredibly beautiful azure blue—and absolutely deadly—crevasse. A Kodak moment heralding certain death…what would you do if you had a camera?
The girls looked at each other with arched brows. Perhaps Global Warming is NOT a myth those looks seemed to say. Their Keens sank deeper into the mush.
“Nita, Princess of the Faeries! Hey Nita, help us out here, will ya!” Jello shouted, up to his knees in the decomposing snow bridge. Sadly for these valiant adventurers, it was Nita’s day off. And although Lois was on duty, rescues from snow bridges wasn’t her department. It looked like the end of the line for—
Suddenly, the skies opened up and a magnificent cumulonimbus cloud floated into view, jagged lightning and rumbling thunder emanating from its dark underbelly. And at its top, happily wedged between brilliant glaciated towers, beamed the bearded face of Ed Hartouni, working an off-width about 30,000 feet long.
Not far below him, at about 20,000 feet, there came Jaybro, doing the Alex Hannold upside-down-to-the-top method of off-widthing. (Impressive, considering this was only a cloud.) And bringing up the rear, so to speak, came Scuffy B (without-the-R)…but all you could see of Scuffy was his rear, as his style of OWing at the moment entailed cramming all body parts into the opening and leaving his rear free to wiggle its own way up.
“You seem to be in a scatological-load of trouble,” Ed said, sounding and looking very much like Charlton Heston sans tablets. He then stacked his elbows and pushed upward with what appeared remarkably similar to a shoulder-dislocation move. There was no loud accompanying “pop” however; he smiled and turned back to his audience.
Now up to his waist in slushy stuff, Jello shrugged his shoulders and chuckled.
“Been in worse spots. But I’ll tell ya, Ed, I’m a bit worried for the girls here. You know how women hate the cold. I’m thinking a drop into that beautiful but deadly crevasse beneath us just might make a few of them…well…you know…raging mad or something.”
Ed nodded his shaggy head in sympathy, almost dislodging himself from the off-width.
“Yep, Jeff, I know what you mean,” he grunted, scrambling to cram himself back in. “It’s a scientific fact that most women have a 3-degree comfort zone range. 72 to 75 is about it. Anything on either side for more than a couple minutes and you’re talking thunderbolts and lightning—very very frightening.”
“Boy, ain’t that the truuuuuuuuuuuth!” came Jaybro’s echoing voice from 8,000 feet below. In a perfect imitation of Scuffy-style, only Jaybro’s hinny could be seen peering out from the crack. It was inching its way upward at quite a steady pace, too.
Jello smiled, now up to his neck in mush. The rest of his party, unencumbered with a weighty Jell-o Cake, were only up to their svelte waists in mush, and didn’t appear concerned in the least. Unaware of the scientific fact that they might soon be dancing to the tune of a Queen Top-40 hit, they continued discussing the merits of bringing a cell phone on the next trip, or perhaps even a helicopter.
“Well now, Ed, I was just wondering…any idea how to get us outta this fix?” Jello asked as nonchalantly as possible. “No need to worry the girls,” he thought. Unfortunately, he thought this out loud, with the ensuing consequences:
“What’s wrong?” Anastasia cried, looking around bewildered.
“Are we lost?” L asked, pushing slush away from her face so she could speak.
“Jello, is there something you’re not telling us?” Crimpie questioned from her five-foot deep hole in the snow.
Before Jello could share the bad news, Ed started laughing, and cheerfully remarked, “You’ve forgotten about your reptilian brain, my friend. Remember? The flight-or-fight coding given you by our ancestors? It’s the reason we’re stuffing ourselves into cracks and climbing rocks like chuckwallas. C’mon Jeff, this is no time to use your Neocortex, man! You need Lizard Power!”
Sheepishly, Jello looked up as his feet poked through the other side of the disintegrating bridge.
“Darn it, you’re right, Ed. I forgot.”
His companions’ three pair of feet poked through the bottom of the bridge next to his. An enormous crack split the middle of the doomed snow catwalk, and the entire structure began to give way.
Ed peered out of his OW...much like an owl would.
Jaybro’s head replaced his hinny...like a flicker in a tree trunk.
Scuffy hung by an ankle-wedge, upside-down and breathlessly watching...like a drunken chicken in a roost.
The whole mass of snow fell, splitting into chunks as it plummeted down the crevasse. It looked bad. It looked like a disaster of epic proportions. It looked like those brave adventurers had finally bought the farm. It looked like…
…four…
…feathered…
…reptiles flew out from the falling snow clods and circled upward towards the heavens.
There was an African Gray, a Double Yellow-headed Amazon, a Cockatoo and a Blue Macaw. They glided casually, gracefully, back up the airwaves to where Ed, Jaybro and Scuffy were smooshed into their OW, grinning.
“Took you long enough,” Ed commented.
The cockatoo, who still wore a pack filled with half-eaten Jell-o Cake, ruffled his topknot and shrugged his fine white wings.
“Gimme a break, will ya? It’s been a couple million years…”
There was a loud pounding noise. Jello rolled over and looked around, disoriented. And then the Voice of Authority came booming through the wooden door:
“Mr. Lowe? Mr. Jeffrey aka "Jello" Lowe? We would like to have a word with you, sir. We’re from...the FBI…”
Where is that Jello-man?
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