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joe
Apr 19, 2004, 9:45 PM
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love with you is like a beat-out nail up.
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calamity_chk
Apr 19, 2004, 9:48 PM
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holy sh|t .. joe was/is online.
:shock:
"hi to joe and his chossy nail-up woman"
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caughtinside
Apr 19, 2004, 9:55 PM
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I eat pieces of choss like you for breakfast!
Seriously, I love choss. If the holds aren't crumbling or exploding right into my eyes, how much adventure is there?
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calamity_chk
Apr 19, 2004, 9:57 PM
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:wtf:
um, you eat who for breakfast?
(overshare?)
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caughtinside
Apr 19, 2004, 10:04 PM
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Sorry, stupid Happy Gilmore reference.
'I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast!'
'You eat pieces of shit for breakfast?'
Pause.
'No!'
THis is SHooter's Route!
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calamity_chk
Apr 19, 2004, 10:07 PM
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sorry, couldnt resist the hanging curve. nicotine withdrawl, bad.
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caughtinside
Apr 19, 2004, 10:10 PM
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Yeah, that's why I switched to chew! 8^)
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calamity_chk
Apr 19, 2004, 10:20 PM
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hahaha.
to elaborate on joe's thought ..
Poem on Pastoral Poetry, Robert Burns
HAIL, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv’d!
In chase o’ thee, what crowds hae swerv’d
Frae common sense, or sunk enerv’d
’Mang heaps o’ clavers:
And och! o’er aft thy joes hae starv’d,
’Mid a’ thy favours!
Thy rural loves are Nature's sel';
Nae bombast spates o' nonsense swell;
Nae snap conceits, but that sweet spell
O' witchin love,
That charm that can the strongest quell,
The sternest move.
(translation forthcoming, have to 'work' for a second)
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calamity_chk
Apr 19, 2004, 10:48 PM
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rough translation, by me.
Hail, poosies, your Nymph has been reserved!
In chase of you, the crowds have swerved
from common sense and sunk
manky pins into heaps of choss.
And, Oh! men have often starved or died
trying to send you, the beloved pile of choss.
Remote towers are the dirtbag's wetdream;
Never will the spray lords nor sport climbers
fall for your b:tchin spell,
But, your charms will pacify the strongest of us,
with balls to send your crux.
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edge
Apr 19, 2004, 11:01 PM
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In reply to: rough translation, by me. Hail, poosies, your Nymph has been reserved! In chase of you, the crowds have swerved from common sense and sunk manky pins into heaps of choss. And, Oh! men have often starved or died trying to send you, the beloved pile of choss. Remote towers are the dirtbag's wetdream; Never will the spray lords nor sport climbers fall for your b:tchin spell, But, your charms will pacify the strongest of us, with balls to send the crux.
That's just beeeeeyoootiful!!!
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katydid
Apr 19, 2004, 11:06 PM
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Oh, lord.
That takes the cake, Amber.
k.
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calamity_chk
Apr 19, 2004, 11:09 PM
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*sniff*
thanks kate, thanks edge.
the funny thing is, all of the robert burns scholars seem to be missing these hidden meanings within this piece.
maybe i'll switch my masters focus to see how many writers in gothic and romantic eras were actually writing about climbing in the desert southwest .. tee hee.
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katydid
Apr 19, 2004, 11:33 PM
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Scotland's produced some fine climbers ... you may be on to something.
And if you can find the hidden climbing meaning in Burns's salute to the haggis, that's GOT to be worth an instant Ph.D. right there!
k.
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deleted
Deleted
Apr 20, 2004, 3:05 AM
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mmm ... [i:322abfbd91]haggis[/i:322abfbd91].
little wonder the scots went on to produce scotch whisky, wouldn't you say? :wink:
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calamity_chk
Apr 20, 2004, 3:55 AM
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it's all coming together now. perhaps i'll dig up more pastoral poetry. hee hee.
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sixter
Apr 20, 2004, 4:47 AM
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In reply to: mmm ... haggis. little wonder the scots went on to produce scotch whisky, wouldn't you say? :wink:
Which came first, the whisky or the haggis. I think the arguement for whisky could be pretty great, a bunch of drunken scots sitting around wondering what to eat, finally one pipes up and decides to put whatever they have left into a sheep stomach and cook it. Yes, whisky must have come first. :wink:
*raises glass in honor of scottish heritage*
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deleted
Deleted
Apr 20, 2004, 3:52 PM
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heard a good one the other day:
god gave the bagpipes to the scots as a joke ...
... but the scots have yet to figure it out. :lol:
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katydid
Apr 20, 2004, 3:57 PM
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Why do bagpipers walk around in squares when they play?
To get away from the sound.
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