Said and the case of the mistaken Mullet

I googled a barber shop today in hopes of getting a great haircut after multiple bad experiences from franchise shops such as Great Clips and Fantastic Sams. I was in for quite a surprise. My stylist, a nice older lady who has been cutting hair for the past 3 decades, gave me possibly the best (and worst) haircut I've ever received. She told me she loves to cut hair, and it is her creative outlet. After hearing such enthusiasm and passion I thought I would allow her free reign with my hair. She buttered up the deal by constantly complementing my great hair. I think she was thankful I wasn't bald like most of her clients.
I asked her for something short and easy to maintain. I was in desperate need of taming my rambuncious curls. This was my first haircut since Lasik, so I was a bit ackward with my eye contact. Where are you suppose to look during a haircut anyways? I've always had the blind experience, and never knew such ackwardness at the barber shop before. Regardless, this is the haircut I received:


Business in the front.

Party in the Back.

Being an unemployed, poor student I can not afford a second haircut, so I shall rock the mullet, perhaps indefinitely.

Back To Basics

Went to Cherry Creek Reservoir for the magic hour today. It was cold. I was reminded of the following poem. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by: Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of the easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

Werd Birds.

I wanted to go out on the ice, but got scared.

Modeling Photos

Because I just love to blow up my ego. Plus Mike, the photographer, did a great job so they are worthy of internet publication.

Rest Week

The fact that I don't remember what it is like to not be sore coupled with the microinjuries in my tendons and hand joints pointed me in the direction of rest. Today is my 9th day of rest 2 more days than I would've liked, however it has been refreshing to not be completely immersed in climbing, the climbing community, and everything climbing related. Balance is something in which I am trying to attain, although rarely achieved. In lieu of climbing I've decided to model, amongst other activities, but also mainly to give moral support to my sister, and her budding startup fashion design company, Freedom Star.
On Saturday the 13th of December Fashion Denver put on a fashion market aptly named Holiday. It was a pleasure to meet so many new interesting, dynamic, and open people. All of my preconceived notions regarding folks in the fashion industry were completely shattered as I met the players in Denver's fashion industry. It was an incredible time, and as the only male model, I got more cheers than the girls did, although they were much better looking than me. So, here's to being and looking Fabulous.

Carter Lake Episode

Frank, Emily, and I were able to enjoy Colorado weather before it turned stormy on Friday. Our original plans of bouldering at Eldorado were nixed in favor of getting Frank and Emily acquainted with Carter Laker. I couldn't believe they hadn't been to this classic front range bouldering destination. Plus I had unfinished projects here from before my move to Tennessee. Pristine conditions with little to no crowd. It was a great day.

Emily crushing the crux of the warm up.


Frank sending Kahuna Roof.


Hole in Pants Dab.

Emily's hands reflecting on the start holds to Kahuna.

Storm clouds rolling in, hot sports action long hair photo.

Frank barn dooring off Doughboys.

Old Stuff

Really super psyched on bouldering right now. Here's an old photo from a trip to Independence Pass.

Population of Crushtown: Ian

A Tango with Terrain Boulders

Not feeling very eloquent nor articulate today. Just pictures:


Ian on some crazy tall lichen filled slab problem, cleaning as he goes.

Mike on Spewbacca.

Myself on What about Bob? Photo by Mike.

Joe's Valley...Again

I once again felt the need to scratch the Joe's Valley itch, and went on an impromptu adventure with Frank, Emily, and some other new friends. Here are the pics. You can find more pics of the trip here.



Frank on Jitterbug Perfume

Matt on Resident Evil Stand


Adam on Resident Evil

Isaac on Spam

Frank on Big Boy

Annie on Big Boy

Dylan feeling out The Comedian Sit

The Bell - Lee (Belly) Wedding

If life is made up of moments, what is it that we do with ourselves between moments? I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine regarding our perception of increments of time. We came to the conclusion that increments of time seem to move faster and faster as we hurtle through our lives. Is it that as children we take granted the special moments of life and give each moment the same value; each moment is just as important as the last? Or is it that as adults we don't find value in the time between moments? Maybe these are just different ways of expressing the same thought, but in the last 3 to 5 years, it seems my life has been thrown through time faster that the first 20 years. Perhaps its a testament to the amount of fun that I'm having, but I seem to remember more hardships recently than in the past.

With that said, My good friends had a wedding, and embarked upon a journey with each other that I hope is never ending. As a group of friends, we had not all been in the same state, let alone the same room with each other in over 2 years. We have grown in many different ways, but are all essentially the same. Collectively we've grown into an eclectic, diverse group that apparently was both the life and demise of this party. Lets just say golf carts and my friends don't mix well. This wedding not only signifies a great event in Mr. and Mrs. Jake Lee's life, but also that of my own life. This is certainly a moment. An important moment. Jake and Heather are the first of my friends I truly consider adults. They've taken quite an adult commitment, albeit to each other. It reflects upon my own life because now I'm afraid my time to take the plunge into adulthood is coming even though I've spent the better part of this decade fighting that urge. I guess I better strap on my arm floaties.


A Transitional Moment

A couple of 62 seconds

A couple of 62 years

Congratulations Jake and Heather. I love you guys.

Pumpkin Patch Kids

The making of 2 Jack - o - Lanterns.


Untouched Pumpkins

Pumpkin Seeds and Sauce...appetizing.

One sexy lookin pumpkin

Halfway there!

3 Wolves and 1 Black Cat. Note the toothpick through howling wolf's ass.

2 for 1 special

First time I've posted twice in a day. So all you addicted blogophiliacs get a special treat today.

Frank and I went down to Morrison and met my friend Chris at the Black Hole. It is the first time I've been to this area, and its much smaller than I had anticipated. Luckily I was warned of the contriving nature of this area, and was ready to mentally deal with the lack of pure lines, and accept them for what they truly bring: gymnastic climbing movement. We busted out the headlamps and climbed well into the dark, stuffing our hands in places they probably shouldn't have gone, and saying things that shouldn't have come out of our mouths. This girl Katherine today told us "climbers are an 'interesting' bunch." The level of raunchiness always exceeds expectations, and usually I love it.


Frank on Helicopter

A computer beat me at chess once. But, it was no match for me at kick boxing.

Felt a bit introspective the other night. Went out and took some shots. I liked this one.


Fall at night

I may never be a Germ Free Adolescent

Anyone who has known me for the last 3 years, also knows of my harrowing tale with the Germ Free Boulder. On a fateful November day, I stepped up anxious to climb this front range classic with the knowledge that the giants of early Colorado bouldering had ascended this line before me. John Sherman and John Gill are a few names that come to mind. As the session progressed so did my uneasiness and anxiety. Egged on by my friends, I commited to the movements, that is of course until I looked down. Struggling to find my breath, feeling the lack of chalk on my hands, I moved to the next hold. I did not make it, and fell hard. The 5 pads and spotters did not do much for my angle of descent. One hairline fracture later, and that was the last day of climbing for almost 12 months, and the first day of Das BooT.

3 years later I returned to this boulder. Still Uneasy. Still Anxious.

At this point I wish I could relay the story of victory and accomplishment, but for me that doesn't seem to be the nature of bouldering. It is filled with more days of crushing defeat than plain crushing, but that is why it is a sport for the headstrong and the will of the heart. In short I will be returning soon to this boulder...Ultimatly to conquer my fear, but also to climb in the footprints of the greats.

Regardless, Matt, Katy, and I had a great day. Perfect temps, good laughs, and stout sandbagged problems. As always, they were followed by beers. And now the pics....


Matt working out the move on the right sit start of GF.

Matt flailing with a foolish face.

Katy allowing me the pleasure of her portrait.

Crossing the river is always a debauchle. Hilarity usually ensues.

I Found My Psyche Under a Rock

Its a full house. My sister moved in, and now we are the perfect American family I never had growing up. Life has become considerably more hectic, and I don't even have homework or deadlines. My world is both being built up and crumbling like dry cookies at the same time. But as the Beatles say, "I'm not sad at the end of the day cause I'm not alone, I get by with a little help from my friends."

I began a new climbing regiment, and this time I'm going to stick to it.....for at least 2 weeks. However, having goals, set climbing and resting days, and realistic expectations has given me a new level of psyche previously not found. Saying that, it was nice to go out today and have a relaxing, confidence building day on Flagstaff. It is the first time I have visited this area since I moved back to Colorado, and it is evident I have become stronger. Now if only my resume was looking a little stronger. Here's a photo for your viewing pleasure.


Jessica wondering where all the holds have gone.

Mt Evans

Fall has most certainly arrived. The Aspens are changing their colors, and Mt Evans looks nothing like it used to earlier in the season. Frank and I went out on a weekday, and basically had Area A all to ourselves.

Stars, Bars, and Shot Up Cars

Other possible titles for this post:
1. Star Search
2. Starrosis - an inflammation of the star seeking frontal lobe.


Right Fork in the Morning.


As I lay in my tent staring at the star strutted night sky devoid of any clouds I couldn't help but truly feeling the magic that lies in Joe's Valley. It's more than just the gorgeous black and tan streaked boulders, the turquoise laden river, or the marvelous sunrises and easy going pace of life in the valley. It's something intangible that you could never over experience, and always find hard to communicate in words. In short Joe's Valley is magical.


The first of many "freak outs"

The C A M R. post dirt road short cut. Now at 198,000 miles and still building character!

Friday morning Garvin and I strapped up and did the long drive into Joe’s Valley, not getting lost once; but nearly running out of gas twice. We made the mistake of stopping in Grand Junction to grab food and booze before heading into the land of Mormon, 3.2 beer, and Sandstone. We drove in circles attempting to find grocery stores, in place we only found super targets and liquor barns.

Garvin on The Comedian

Finally we arrive at our destination, and quickly made our way to Man Size Area to relieve the itchiness of our fingers, and soothe the sweating of our palms with chalk. We began our reintroduction to the area by climbing the tallest face we could find, a gorgeous highball named Michelangelo; undeniably a work of art. We also played around on a few moderates before running into a friend from the South, Jill. A pleasant surprise to say the least because we ended up spending the rest of the weekend with her, her friend, Anna, and the Canadian staying in a movable aqua “loaf of bread” (read van), Ira. All was well in the world.

Ira and Jill

Katy, Garvin’s girlfriend, was to meet us there Friday evening, but due to complications arrived late in the evening. However it did provide us with entertainment…as we began to get further into the bottle of Chossy Rossi, we also began to dance at every car that passed our campsite.

Saturday, we got on a really cool problem called Worst Case Scenario. Jill sent with impeccable style.

Photo by Katy Scott.

Sunday saw ascents of the remaining proj’s and the long journey back home. Beat and broken, the trip was a huge success, and now I have dreams of returning as soon as possible.

Here are some photos for your viewing pleasure.

My new Favorite Photo.

Katy excited about squeezing out her bananas

Garvin coming up with something mischievous

Katy over the water on The Angler

Shot Up Slug Bug