Monday, January 23, 2012


"I've woken up to complete silence."

Felicity Aston, 34, has just become the first person to ski across Antarctica alone and with her own muscle power. She's been chronicling it on her blog and on Twitter, although as of five minutes ago she was still waiting in a tent for the pickup plane. No word on what kind of wine she's going for, although someone should send her a free case of that Shackleton whisky.

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"Pen-i-guins is PRACTically chickens...."


Holy shit. That lady's got some solid brass ovaries.


@wharrgarbl seriously. She is such an inspiration. And also, incredibly smart use of corporate sponsorship to fund her journey. I want to buy that woman a drink.


Getting her that whiskey would be incredibly fitting. Great idea. I'm guessing a Malbec from Chili would be the closest in region, but I'm partial because those are almost always delicious.


I feel certain I would die on this journey, but damn...her tweets (even the ones about bad stuff happening) make it sound pretty fucking awesome.


So, how do we know if she's human? If she was an imitation, a perfect imitation, how would you know it was really her?


If you see her trying to make his way back here and we're not with her... burn her.


You think that thing wanted to be an animal? No dogs make it a thousand miles through the cold! No, you don't understand! That thing wanted to be us!


One other thing. I think it rips through your clothes when it takes you over. Windows found Bennings' torn clothes in the storage room after he was taken over. Earlier, Nauls found a pair of shredded and dirty longjohns in the kitchen trash can, but the nametag was missing. They could be anybody's. Nobody... nobody trusts anybody now, and we're all very tired...There's nothing more I can do. Just wait. This is R.J. MacReady, helicopter pilot, US outpost #31.


@melis You're going to have to sleep sometime, melis.


@melis John Carpenter day on TheAwlPin!

dracula's ghost

(note: She may already have a baby, what do I know)


@dracula's ghost I bet they ARE. Those people (who ask those things) know no bounds.

'That's great, arctic, antarctic, whatever. But BABIES. WHEN?'


@Craftastrophies "She crossed the Antarctic on foot, with only a coat made of live leopard seals and shoes made of fractious penguins. But now she faces the hardest and most important task of all: cutting the crusts off a sandwich properly for her darling offspring."

Though that could make for some interesting offspring-memoirs. "My mother was a difficult person to get to know. Affection was hard-won and fleeting. When I landed the lead in the school play, she was in the front row opening night. When I asked her what she thought of it later, on the ride home, she got a distant look in her eyes and said it put her in mind of the time she punched a Weddell seal half to death and then ate its pup raw right in front of it. I don't know that she was really aware of me, or the car, or the fact that we were in the English countryside. In some ways, I don't think she ever really came home from Antarctica."


@wharrgarbl I kind of want her to have a baby just so I can read that memoir in 30+ years.


@ilikemints Barned & Noble needs a "Recollections of Interesting Parents by Their Needy and Uninteresting Children" section.

"I will never forget the time I told my mother I was joining an all-tuba orchestra. In retrospect, I did it to provoke a reaction, to see her feel something for once. It had been so long since I had seen her react to anything authentically, without thinking about it first and choosing her words carefully and slowly, that I think I can be forgiven my adolescent miscalculation. I had meant to provoke emotion and see my mother's true self, for a moment, but what I'd lit was the too-short fuse to a pile of emotional dynamite.

"Suddenly her mangled right hand was in my face. 'Do you see this?' she snarled, her voice barely recognizable. 'Do you see this?' I did. The two missing tips, the completely absent little finger, the scars and the oddly flattened proportions of what was left. I'd spent my life avoiding looking at it, like everyone else. She did not call attention to it. It was a cardinal rule in our house, after going to church on Sundays and washing behind our ears. 'This happened to keep shells in the boys' guns. I never played the cello again to keep the Germans from our doorstep. I sacrificed the violin to stop Hitler. I did not lose my goddamned hand so that you could join a goddamned tuba commune like a Red Communist!'

"And that was that. I dropped out of the orchestra, and we never spoke of the matter again. It wasn't until after her death that I discovered she'd made inquiries about the possibility of having an exorcism performed on my instrument, so deeply had the possibility of me becoming a professional tuba player shaken her."

Daisy Razor

In other news, I did twelve whole minutes of a workout video this morning.


@Daisy Razor I skipped the spinner and went out for pancakes instead. I know, I don't know how I do it either.


I looooove reading about polar explorations. My GP is a descendant of Ernest Shackleton!

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