Pukemaster, Senior P and I (allow myself to introduce ... myself) all
showed up at PC last night for an unannounced climb. BarryTheBastard
somehow found out and showed up too - he must have called Dionne
Warwick's psychic hotline. SP picked up a hitchhiker in the parking
lot ... with a "God is my savior" tattoo. God didn't help him get up
the walls any faster. I offered some helpful advice to the struggling
born-again "Try not to let go of the holds." Anything I can do to
help.

I hear that BTB finally made it up the 5.11d black, after flopping 2
feet off the ground like 200 times, had some trouble with 5.11 red and
others that he had cleaned in the past. Guess you won't be taking
another week off from climbing any time soon! PM claims to have made
a few climbs, but since I didn't actually see any of them, they don't
count - oh, so sorry Mr. Bond! Oh wait - I did see you flop on the
5.12 blue, which sounded painful (this will be the last time you tell
me to write the recap, huh?!?). Senior P did some laps on the slab
(showing off for the high school girls?), then cleaned the 5.8 red on
the wall next to the slab without using the door! I still didn't get
the white trash 5.10, even using BTB's move at the end. That didn't
stop me from offering some tips to the cute girl in the green shirt
who was watching me flop like a trout on it - "see, this is how not to
climb it!"

Post-climb activities at Smokey Bar - Lisa#11 (what the hell are we
going to call you?!?) debut for a glass (or five - we're a bad
influence) of cabernet, PM for "one drink" before going to PMD's house
to untie her so she could pack for Moab, SP - the girl in the
lizard-skin skirt with matching jacket was checkin' him out (L#11 -
"Doesn't she own a mirror?!?"), BTB - "can I have a glass of ice on
the side ... for my hand" (had to ask for it six times, because it was
free), and myself - I didn't run over anyone in the parking lot this
time ... I parked in the street. I wished I had brought my dog to
help herd the "girl" (loose definition) in the cow-print jacket. We
ate, we drank, we all went home.

Rating: Four suitcases (and one hockey bag) full of dismembered
midgets (think they'll let you through airport security with that?),
one bourbon, one scotch, one beer, nineteen crushed aspirin and a lint
brush for PM's skirt - all shaken, not stirred.

Next crime: PC on Sunday?

S&B