...it being a blog regarding fly fishing for trout, salmon, steelhead, carp and other fine fishes typed in a 169% badass literary stylee. Published for your amusement from West Seattle, WA...
Thursday, June 21, 2007
gone fishing
maybe just for today, maybe 'till monday... we're free and easy like the '70s...
The word verification thingy says 'ufidsnad', so I am compelled to post.
'snad'.
snadwich.
Easy, like Sunday morning.
1-2-3 NOT IT, ad nauseaueum.
Brisket would make a good dog name.
clapclapclap... you ate all the fries, clapclapclappityclap, good job... you. clapclapclap.
And trout. West fork, north fork, that chick wanted you. Those dogs were hot and lazy and who could blame them with all that wind blowing? But, the trout. You can't find the trout under a shady tailgate looking at the schlong of a cooped up horse all day. You have to walk over miles of limestone to find some rocks. Triple layered rocks, sometimes with frogs on them, and all kinds of colors and what not. And goddamm it if you're tired when you get home, there's always a homie there to greet you pulling in to your goddamm driveway with a shit eating grin on his face as he's already cracked open three cold ones before he's even released his safety buckle and you have to stay for 2 more hours.
It's a beautiful thing and there's not nothing out there that can make it just like it ever was.
'ufidsnad' says the word verification thingy... and i'm about to gladly type it in, and what not.
2 Comments:
was that thee t-mobile parked along the upper canyon Yak on Thursday afternoon?
The word verification thingy says 'ufidsnad', so I am compelled to post.
'snad'.
snadwich.
Easy, like Sunday morning.
1-2-3 NOT IT, ad nauseaueum.
Brisket would make a good dog name.
clapclapclap... you ate all the fries, clapclapclappityclap, good job... you. clapclapclap.
And trout. West fork, north fork, that chick wanted you. Those dogs were hot and lazy and who could blame them with all that wind blowing? But, the trout. You can't find the trout under a shady tailgate looking at the schlong of a cooped up horse all day. You have to walk over miles of limestone to find some rocks. Triple layered rocks, sometimes with frogs on them, and all kinds of colors and what not. And goddamm it if you're tired when you get home, there's always a homie there to greet you pulling in to your goddamm driveway with a shit eating grin on his face as he's already cracked open three cold ones before he's even released his safety buckle and you have to stay for 2 more hours.
It's a beautiful thing and there's not nothing out there that can make it just like it ever was.
'ufidsnad' says the word verification thingy... and i'm about to gladly type it in, and what not.
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