Charlie Chaplin plays the lead role in the 1936 comedy Modern Times. As the Tramp, Chaplin portrays a rascal stuck in the changing industrial world. Working on the assembely line, Chaplin becomes another cog, unable to do anything but screw on widgets. The repetitive work makes Chaplin twitch and when he walks outside of his job, he's still gyrating and spazzing from his job. When he tries talking to a girl, he blows it. She runs away when he can't help but hump the air neurotically. Funny stuff. This morning, I worked at the Icicle Ridge Winery, bottling a few hundred bottles of wine. A mobile truck came to the winery, parked outside, and took the empty bottles, filled them, and corked them. Six other people helped to box and unbox the wine. Talk about a shit load of cabarnet sauvignon!
At work the other day, Stephanie spilled a decent amount of enchillada sauce on her shirt. Unfortunately, our work shirts are all white and Steph, frantically tried to clean it off. The stain remained on the middle of her shirt along with a large dose of water. The outline of her breast was clearly visible. Sassy. John couldn't stop laughing about it and goaded her into a bit more.
"Try touching your elbows behind your back," John told her.
She did and it was awesome. I felt like I was in eigthth grade again. Funny, funny stuff. I'm gonna have to use that trick sometime.
I finished writing a 2000 word piece on Leavenworth earlier this morning. I've been working on it for the past month and a half. I'm glad to finally have it done. There's going to be an article published in the rags about the bouldering here, unfortunately the piece won't be written by me. Still, I put something together for the hell of it. I want the practice and I really like this place. Max managed to get the photo deal out of the article. I'm really pysched for him.