I can't even fit the Ladies Man in my apartment, standing up - the cielings aren't even that tall. I'm getting a rack that will let me stow him up out of the way on the wall, but until then, it's a bit like I have an Easter Island menhir leaning over my dining room table. I am, by the way, a wretched surfer. My first day out, I got down to the beach and hadn't even put TLM in the water before I hurt myself. I jammed him point down in the sand to stand him up for a sec while I zipped up my wetsuit - and jammed the point right into my left foot. It left a pretty deep gash, and has swollen in a fascinating manner since then. Ippon for Ladies Man!
Once in the water it occurred to me that I was excellent shark bait - what with a bleeding foot. I managed to paddle out to sea, and get the board pointed back towards land, and sort of crouch on top in a wobbly fashion. Alas, I was not attacked by sharks. I say alas, because shark attack is one of the few disasters that I have yet to survive, and it would be nice to get the inevitable out of the way when I am close to home, young, and fit. (Relatively) Another thing I didn't do was quite manage to stand up. First, the surf was fairly flat, and second -- well, yeah. I got up on one knee, and then sort of into a Spider-Man-esque crouch for about a solid second. Thereafter I plunged more or less belly-first into the waiting arms of the Pacific.
There are quite a few waiting arms I'd be only happy to plunge into. And not to take anything away from the Pacific, either - it's a lovely ocean and I believe my affection for it should be pretty clear. I had just hoped to stay free of it for just a second or two longer. Ah well, next time! This time, I sort of flapped my arms and fell, chicken-like. I am a very model of grace and manly beauty - look upon my athletic skill, and quiver, O ye mortal fools!