I've passed my third day wearing a mustache. It has been an interesting experiment so far. Have you always wanted to grow yours out, but haven't had the cajones to try a different look? Maybe you're thinking that an underground army of mustaches might be just the secret-hand-shake kind of protest against the corporate machine that could unite our brethren? Facial Hair meats Fight Club? Well, let me pass on some hard-earned insight (if you're already a misfit, this won't come as news). Basically, this is how it works: the first 24 hours are the hardest; after that initial introductory period when ugly girls and all but the gayest gay guys won't even give you a second look, you'll become more comfortable with your appearance and possibly begin to regain some of your previous confidence. If you have a girlfriend, do not expect her to find any humor in your antics. Trust me on that one, you are on your own and swimming upstream against possibly the biggest fashion faux pas you could hope to cross. No one said it would be easy. Personally, I'm not sure what to expect from here on out. I'm coming up on my first full weekend in the city as such. If anyone has any tips, bring them on. As far as I'm concerned, it could go either way. So stay tuned, there are only three short weeks until Chile. (Full disclaimer, I don't think anyone in Chile will care either)

What makes a spot secret?

Submitted for your consideration, two photos: one is a secret spot the other is not. Or at least that's my guess if I had to label them into such categories. What is your definition of a secret spot? One that hasn't been in the magazines? Somewhere that only 'locals' know about? I'm guessing no one reading this knows about either of the spots in these photos, so maybe they are both secrets. I don't know. Is a secret spot one that you can't see from a road? What do you think? What makes a spot secret? Or maybe, there simply is no such thing and we should all stop believing in the Easter Bunny?

iPhone 3.0 OS Guide: Everything You Need to Know

About fucking time, I cant wait to cut and paste.

• Copy & Paste text. When you double-tap over text, you will get a "cut, copy, and paste" bubble dialog. Double-tap again and a "paste" bubble will appear.....ooohhh

"He could be a genius"

Check out this unintentionally hilarious article on chimps' ability to plan ahead:



I quote:
A canny chimpanzee who calmly collected a stash of rocks and then hurled them at zoo visitors in fits of rage has confirmed that apes can plan ahead just like humans, a Swedish study said Monday. Santino the chimpanzee's anti-social behavior stunned both visitors and keepers at the Furuvik Zoo but fascinated researchers because it was so carefully prepared.

...The 31-year-old alpha male started building his weapons cache in the morning before the zoo opened, collecting rocks and knocking out disks from concrete boulders inside his enclosure. He waited until around midday before he unleashed a "hailstorm" of rocks against visitors, the study said.

...individual differences are big among chimpanzees so the observation might not mean all chimpanzees are capable of the same planning.

"It could be that he is a genius, only more research will tell."

For a while, zoo keepers tried locking Santino up in the morning so he couldn't collect ammunition for his assaults, but he remained aggressive. They ultimately decided to castrate him.

"It is normal behavior for alpha males to want to influence their surroundings ... It is extremely frustrating for him that there are people out of his reach who are pointing at him and laughing," Osvath said. "It cannot be good to be so furious all the time."

Not sure if Santino the chimp is actually a genius if all he accomplished was getting his balls hacked off.

Chianti vs. Chowder

Back from a week in Italy. Cool place if you are into great wine & food, beautiful women, another level of ice-cream & espresso, soccer, and art & history. Otherwise, the trip confirmed what we all know is basically just another over-rated and expensive country on a crowded continent with an attitude (fair enough, the 10 course birthday meal washed down with a bottle of Barolo in a medieval wine cellar in Siena on Mardi Gras night was pretty memorable).

Here's one for posterity. This photo makes me want to laugh and cry all at once:
http://www.iwcoffice.org/sci_com/workshops/CLIMATEworkshop.htm

As if these trips aren't cruel enough, the next meeting is in Madeira in June. How's that? Obviously the people in charge are not surfers. Although while in Italy, I did get to hear some funny stories about Dave Rastovich showing up at last year's Whaling Commission meeting in Santiago with mermaid-model wife in tow (of course I miss the one meeting with hot wives and waves). After demonstrating his anti-whaling protests to the Japanese delegates (something in there about his wife wearing an aquatic tail and little else, while being paraded through the room on a table hoisted up on Rasta et al's shoulders), he invited some Aussie scientist/surfers to charge a crazy nearby slab with him. Some guys have all the luck.

Back in Seattle, I managed to set a record for the month of February with 5 hours sleep. Glorious. Then up early, and wasting no time, headed out to Westport with Jer and scored some fun overhead waves. I was thanking my lucky stars that it wasn't huge and managed to do OK out there for the first hour, but then the jet-lag and everything else caught-up, and the wheels fell (flew?) off. Did I mention that I grabbed two left booties in the dark on the way out the door? That didn't help my cause either. The bottom line is, if you aren't catching waves up here this time of year, it doesn't take long to get cold. So I proceeded to get really fucking cold. So cold and exhausted by the end that I was forced to concede that I could no longer get to my feet (much less feel anything below my knees, or my two left feet) and rode my last wave to the beach on my belly. This act would have been more embarrassing if not for the other 95% of people in these parts that also 'surf' in this position.

Lucky for me and my encroaching hypothermia; hot clam chowder and whiskey are to the PacNW what chianti and prosciutto are to Tuscany. Nothing against the latter, but I'll take the cold waves and the chowder anytime.