Something that can only be redeemed with fire.

Yesterday evening I picked up Scarab and we hooned up the highway to meet New Girl at King's Park and climb Jacob's Ladder. On the way, Scarab was most appreciative of the mix I had lined up on the iPod and screamed with joy when Angel of the Morning came on. I turned it up and we sang along with great gusto. Scarab even had a whole lot of dramatic gestures to go along with it; you know, to show that the music was moving through her. We both enjoyed the powerhouse climax to the song:

...then slowly turn away
["Ooh, it's getting quiet; she's building to something"]
I won't beg you to stay with me
["Are you ready, haze?"]
through the tears of the day, of the years
["Here we go!"]

BA-A-A-A-BYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!

What are you looking at?? It was all good, clean fun.

Of course, I should have just saved my breath for Jacob's Ladder, which was packed with all sorts of disgustingly fit people - and me & New Girl. Scarab took off up the steps in a spritely fashion, while New Girl and I attempted to maintain a kind of steady, pained trudge. Before we'd even made it to the top Scarab was on her way back down. The two of us decided to slowly walk around on some flat land while our dynamo companion did about three more climbs. No one needs that kind of thing rubbed in their face.

On the up side, while we stood on one of the landings catching our breath, another climber staggered up and, much to the amusement of New Girl and I, seemed to be transfixed by my chest. So focussed was he that at one stage I thought he was going to keep walking until his face was firmly pressed against my sternum. Instead he staggered back and forth on the landing as though he was disoriented. I wasn't sure if it was my modest physical attributes or my bright orange Mama Mia! souvenir t-shirt that had him so mesmerised. I hope it was the t-shirt. He was kind of pervy.