hooray! amy got boobies!

still disgusting.

ho. ly. shit.

i'm trying to think of something witty to say about mabry hunting squirrels in the yard...but i'm speechless after watching this video.

on like donkey kong...

RIP CITY!

japan. it continues to be awesome...

doritos.



no upper-deckers allowed. bummer.



AND...the hand dryers are awesome.



no clue???



two girls, one squid. actually it looks like a couple different squid, but i'm no marine psychologist.

this was pretty cool...

solving the world's problems...

1. use the guy that inspired mark walhberg's character in the movie shooter to take out all insane dictators or anyone else that has nuclear weapons and shouldn't.*

2. impose instant capital punishment for child molesters and murderers.

3. make wind and solar energy cost effective so that all dams may be removed. i mean the wind blows pretty hard through the gorge? everyday. since before the dinosaurs.

4. devise a way to medically permit fertility only after responsible parties pass a series a common sense tests.*

5. join this cause and sign this petition: i like to fish this river



*to be determined by me.

mos eisley.

billy mays here...

the ol' click 'n paul, er pawl...

this...



leads to this...



which leads to this...

just another night at GK...

nba jam, ms. pacman, kong, and "...the wizard needs food badly!"
these are a few of my favorite things.
the one, the only GK.
happy birthday pletsch-zilla.

956 miles later...

i love fishing.

i'll drive a long, long way for that first two or three hours of sunlight creeping over the rimrock. i'll brush my teeth with some chocolate doughnuts and mountain dew. then i'll quietly, carefully hike down a dark, jagged riverbank wearing a headlamp.

i'm quite certain the fish can hear me shut the door on the truck, silence is key.

i find a nice boulder. then settle in behind it, so i can barely feel the current. the green water is moving at the perfect speed at the perfect depth. it's that mystic shit that those knobby-knuckled old timers shake their wading staffs at. it's that religous shit that lets me forget about work and focus only on the swing, those deer bouncing up the canyon wall, and maybe that doves song i had playing on the ipod while rigging up.

there's never wind at sunrise. and my casts are cutting the water like a surgeon. no, it's more like esteban the guitar wizard, since i refuse to use the surgeon analogy because most surgeons are dicks. it's precise but relaxed. it's intense but my heart rate goes down. it's that wonderful feeling of fighting off the urge to hit that ugly, ugly snooze button and hooking into an early morning steelface.

now on to the usual shots of scenery, wildlife, fishagirl, and fishadogs.

clam feed.

small town folk like to gather in fire stations, vfw halls, or middle school gymnasiums and consume mass quantities of grub...

before.



during.


after.