If you hear of someone dying and the word "junkie" is in there, it should mean something completely different. You think of a body with a needle sticking out of it (no...I'm holding off on Michael Jackson jokes for an entire week; I want to see if I can do it).

I heard about a "daredevil rock climber" that died by...oh, surprise...he plunged to his death of a mountain.

John Bachar was 51, and spent years climbing without protection (although he was injured in a car accident that left a friend dead...I'm guessing he wasn't using the "seat belt" for protection in that incident).

In the 70s, this guy was a big deal. He was in magazines and there were different trails named after him.

He offered $10,000 to anyone that could keep up with him. I'm wondering if, as he fell to the ground, there was a climber nearby saying "Pay up first, beeaitch!"

A less sympathetic death happened at the famous running of the bulls. A guy took a horn in the neck and died. Ouch.

They say it's the first death there since 1995. And it's hard to have sympathy. Just as it's hard for me to feel sad when people die jumping out of an airplane (note to self: find out if antigeek is so angry at me all the time because she confessed to being one of these people that jumps out of planes for fun).

For once, I heard a story like these things I always carry on about. I forget where, but someone was with his son going down a river on an inner-tube. They fell off and needed to be rescued.

They were then given two different tickets for breaking the law.

Now, if they only give them the bill for the rescue, it would've been perfect.