high water unicorns.

really early.
really, really early.
lots of rain. river was on the rise but somehow it happened. twice.
some things are better left a mystery like stonehenge, sasquatch, DB cooper, and brandon roy's knee cartilage.

more flies.

of course these are a little sloppy and can only get better. but it sure is fun to watch them come together. spinning hackle and dubbing on a hook is quickly becoming one of life's little pleasures.
i love the prince nymph. and by love, i mean, i've put close to million of these buggers into the trees along the banks of the deschutes. hopefully, i won't have to buy anymore. ever.

two thumbs up!

strong work bishops!
tattoo'd women and SAVE BRISTOL BAY?
Now that's how you run a business.

bo pelini is an angry man.

you best stop censoring him, dr. tom.
never has such a tall glass of piss and vinegar tasted so sweet.
go big red!

bravo, sir. bravo.

anthony hopkins, daniel day-lewis, keanu reeves, val kilmer, and, possibly the greatest of all-time, nicolas cage.
we are lucky witnesses to greatness.
slow clap, nic...slow clap, sir.

i can't play that video and not pull this classic scene out of the vault.
i give you the greatest scene and accent in the history of hollywood:

never leave us, nic. i know you won't.

greg oden is soft.

saw nic batum today. i told him to tell rich cho to tell brandon to tell greg to use some of his millions and buy some tony robbins self-esteem dvds and then stop being such a pussy and actually act like you want to be a basketball player.
i had enough of oden's mopey-dopey, chin-down bullshit last year.
this so-called "great work ethic" that the blazer brass talk about seems like a bunch of crap from what i can see and/or read about.
prove me wrong, greg.

my list of things greg should've done to prove to blazer fans he gives a shit about being a great player or even slightly begin to live up to the huge amount of potential you had four years ago:

1. find a mentor. a RECENTLY retired NBA big man. someone to teach you toughness and moves. charles oakley comes to mind. jesus, befriend one of these guys, reach out. you can't tell me that even if they are employed by another team, in the off-season patrick ewing or hakeem wouldn't give out some lessons. RIP maurice lucas, but we all know he wasn't 100% for the last few years. why joel doesn't slap greg into shape is beyond me?
2. find a mean-streak. get tougher. join a boxing gym for shitsake. anything would be better than laying on your under-sized couch at home. if you were cleared to lift and jog, you can punch a bag or spar a midget or something.
3. travel with the team. i've heard a bunch of different excuses on this one. but perception is reality on this one. last year no one saw greg. "flying is bad for his knees"...bullshit. the blazers can take a few seats out of Blazer One and install a massage table for him for all i care. no reason not to be on the road with the team rehabbing, watching tape, being coached, developing with teammates...learning the game.
4. relax. don't you get it that if it was better known that you really were kicking ass at rehabbing no one would have anything to say. except that even though you are injured, you are still busting your ass and earning that huge contract. being a head-case or being "depressed", as i've heard, is no excuse. you are a multi-million dollar athlete, your life is just fine.
5. want it. just want it, man. if i felt like you wanted it, everything would be ok. the drive. prove to me that you have it. i'm a sponge to every video and interview i can find and not once have i ever heard you talk like a winner, like winning is all that matters, like losing makes you throw up, like second place is last place, like winning is all that matters. not once.

anyway, yeah, i saw nic batum today. i like his game.

nice earring, douche.

go make another jar-jar binks indiana jones movie, harrison.
han solo was as cool as you'll ever be.

wooly bugger.

yeah, that's my first bug. pretty complicated, i know. but i'll be whipping up sexy pink fish tacos in no time...

moss man.

going south for the next few weeks so the good folks at caddis fly can teach me to tie some bugs. i've been putting off learning for too long. i blame call of duty. we got in some home-cooking and some fishing.





i hiked in looking for sasquatch again. i didn't find him. but i did see something odd. my eyes were wet and bloody from the thickest forest of blackberry bushes in the northwest, but i managed one decent picture from a distance:



i told him i wasn't interested in his recent deer kill and he let me go with a warning.
then i caught a couple nice fish.
and ate some dairy queen.

watch this at least until the 2:11 mark...

holy austrian bowel movement, this one is even BETTER!

boba.

on the road again...

i used to loathe driving.
however, lately trips out east haven't felt so long.
sure it's still hundreds of miles, but it ain't so bad.
technology surely has something to do with it, but not everything.
a couple hours of a nice, new ipod playlist makes time fly.
a couple PTI and moldy chum podcasts and it's time to stop for some grub.
even an hour or so of sweet silence maybe with the window down just to see how long it takes my face to freeze as i climb the ledge outside of pendleton, and i'm damn near there.
pick a campsite, fire up the coleman, stuff some extra blankets in the sleeping bag, and flip through the latest issue of the drake before dozing off.
hopeful for a couple bumps in the morning.

rocktober.

my favorite month of the year. the blazers are gettin' warmed up. the huskers haven't let me down yet. the mc rib should be coming back soon. and so far, i've caught more steelhead than NFL parlays won.
we hit the deschutes over the weekend with a few hundred of our closest friends.
for shitsake river etiquette is way down these days. knuckle-head campers in every run. we gave it a few hours, landed a beautiful native, high-fived, and headed back to maupin for some tasty, tasty pizza.
we're gonna give it another try this weekend...maybe a different spot, though.

mabry (1996-2010)

well, ol' girl, i bet you're enjoying endless amounts of dog toy stuffing, tennis ball fuzz, and squirrels with nowhere to hide.
see you on the flip side, butt-sniffer.

mexico.

we've been home for a few days now. the normal flora is slowly returning.
we're both feeling pretty good, actually, compared to our first adventure to ixtapa/zihuatanejo. f that dirty, dirty cesspool.
the east cape is a lovely place. there's nothing to do but fish, sleep, eat, swim, sunburn, and fish. sounds pretty perfect,eh?.
i will never be a morning person. but 0600 in baja with huevos rancheros waiting for you poolside as the front loaders launch the pangas on the beach below you is a pretty sweet way to motivate.
we'll be back.

metal.

bazinga.

September to do list:
get married. check.
catch a roosterfish. check.



more to come. when my bowels recover.

texas taco tour 2010 (part 3)*

*this post contains no tacos.

the gluttony continued as the weekend went on. on sunday we covered the entire culinary spectrum. hitting steak 'n shake and rudy's bbq in the same day is like watching spaceballs followed by star wars. or having breakfast with ellen page then dinner with gwyneth paltrow. or having mos def cover the beastie boys. or like getting to fish all morning and being content without even a bump.

anyway, i hadn't had steak 'n shake since...shit, it's been years.

top five shitty/awesome fast food resturants that need to expand to the northwest for shitssake:

5. lion's choice
4. white castle
3. krystal
2. runza
1. steak 'n shake

2am

2pm

throw in a game at my 15th MLB stadium and I was spent.
Time for a nap or ten.

rocks.

Eclectic Method - 8 Bit Mixtape from Eclectic Method on Vimeo.

texas taco tour 2010 (part 2)

the tacos continued...
yucatan taco stand in frisco has some tasty tortillas.

this was a giant plate of chicken nachos

next up was torchy's. this was my kind of place. the bathrooms were clean. friendly staff. and i ate something very tasty called a trailer park "trashy" style. the only bad thing i can say about torchy's is that they were sold out of their "show me your taco" t-shirts.

texas taco tour 2010 (part 1)

holy frakkin' queso, adama.
texas taco tour 2010 is in the books.
i'll let the pictures do most of the talkin', but overall, the tacos in dallas are damn good. we ate tacos for lunch and dinner everyday until our bodies wouldn't let us. then we switched to spicy BBQ.
our first stop was fuel city. this place is a gas station disguised as a donkey farm disguised as giant beer store disguised as car wash disguised as a taco stand. the tacos were cheap and tasty. however, the surprise winner was a little cup of heaven.
steamed corn with a layer of sour cream, some hot sauce, queso, butter, topped with lemon pepper.
um, probably something normal for that part of northern mexico, but, holy shit, it was tasty.

two thumbs up.

Go see this movie.
Don't see Dinner For Schmucks.
This movie good.
That movie bad.

oh definitely...it's poison.

dogs, way better than cats.

this video show how dogs are easily way more awesome than the holocaust.



click here for dirty, stupid cats.

winner.

Q: how do you take a shitty song by a no-talent hack and make it more awesome than jesus?
A: simple, just add star trek.

a short film.

i've been watching this video everyday for over a year. it's just what i do.

deliverance.

i needed a fuckin' break. a man can only take so many fucking whiny sick patients, annoying fucking co-workers, fucking oozing abscesses, fucking annoying co-workers, that fucker kobe bryant, fucking rain, an incontinent sweet old pup, fuck you AT&T, and fucking annoying co-workers.
first stop was the uber-hyped diamond lake on thursday. i made good time even with a required stop at the caddis in eugene to pick up some chubbies. i quickly set up camp through a cloud of skeeters. it was just warm enough in middle of each day for the mosquitos to be as thick as fog. i blew my nose today at work, and yeah, there was a mosquito in it.




i fished hard in the float tube that night and all day friday at both ends. the wind was tough and my legs were jello, but i found a few fish. it wasn't epic, but my hands smelled like fish slime, which has been a daily goal of mine ever since i lost my virginity.
overall, diamond lake is fun, beautiful, and full of fish, if you have a boat.
i was up at it early again saturday morning for a couple hours, but decided i needed some moving water. and since i was heading to warm springs for sunday, i went north. i have a secret little skinny stretch of the deschutes near redmond that i hadn't yet touched this year.

so now, this is where my weekend got stupid. as i mentioned, i'd been kicking around in a float tube in the wind for three days, so my legs were goo, and this spot was a bit of a hike. it'd be easier to base jump down the canyon wall, but i didn't have a helmet, just waders and some beef jerky, so i scooted down the shale hoping to not slide into a nest of rattlesnakes.
it worked. i fished. it sucked. i gave it a solid 45 minutes and said "fuuuuuuuuuck". i seriously thought about faking a broken leg and calling in the national guard for an air lift out.

so now, this is where my weekend got seriously fucked up. i was winded, tired, thirsty, defeated, and sweaty. the well-worn path through the thick brush and boulders was narrow and looked snakey, so i was focused. then the hairs on the back of my neck started to stand up. my spidey sense was at defcon 10. although i did notice a car parked up near mine, i hadn't seen a soul.
but now, there were people just ahead of me around the corner. i slowly made the turn as wide as i could, my hand already in my pocket holding my small knife. and i hollered out at the same time i started to hear some rustling. the image of one guy's cock coming out of the other guy's ass has had me crying in the shower all week.

i took a few giant steps back as pants and dust started flying. the pitcher, we'll call him, boss hog, took a header into the thorny bushes determined to hide his face. he unsuccessfully hid down the bank from me in clear sight except for his face, i mumbled something awkward about having to walk through their little love nest still clutching my knife in my pocket.

i wasn't in a safe situation. scenes from trainspotting, basketball diaries, and even bob saget screaming "i used to suck dick for coke!" were racing through my mind.

the catcher, we'll call him, enos, was a little more friendly. as i slowly walked back towards them, my only way out, he pops out rockin' his mullet, a muscle shirt, and a spinnin' rod and offers me a beer. i nervously laughed and asked that him and his boyfriend step back so i could boot-scoot through lover's lane and get the fuck outta hazard county.
they did and i got by them and above them. as i continued to climb out, enos continued to chat me up. he asked me how the fishing was, i said, "shitty", he said he had "just got a big brown". i again laughed and stopped short of responding with something that might have gotten me shot.

i got back to my wheels, noticed a second rig (a tricked-out dodge monster truck with shiny rims) and wondered which guy was responding to the craigslist ad?
then i had to put some gangsta rap on the ipod to calm my nerves, and got the hell outta there.

so with that horrible brokeback afternoon behind me, i continued north to the mecca for the evening. it was lovely as usual. hungry fish on the surface with the big, fuzzy chubbies. still cool, no skeeters, no snakes, cold beer, a 24 hour diner in madras, and things were setting up sweetly for an epic sunday.




so now, this is where my weekend got ridiculous. sunday, we fished all day on some new water and absolutely crushed it. one good day rockin' deschutes trout on dries in the central oregon sunshine will give a man a year's worth of fish mojo. i'm pretty sure i could out-fish ernest hemingway right now.
of course that all changes as soon as i go get my steelhead on.