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By SA Guy
“OK - it is 01h20, I am pissed and my wife chucked me out!Bern - you mentioned a few posts before you are some kind of life skills teacher. Oops - Life science??? CATC A FUCKING WAKE UP CHINA!!!! We just can not get our bread buttered on both sides, aspecially on a teachers salary!!!
I am the father of a 6 year old, and you are scaring the absolute sh!t out of me. Are you seriuosly the kind of person that I have to trust to teach my son??? FUCK. (dont worry - he can not read yet - not eletist enough for that ) Go and ask your local Rugby club to entruduce soccer because Rugby is being percieved ELETIST and let me know how far they tell you to fly ( Noting to do with the eletist sport of fly fishing ).

There is an organisation in this country that seems to argue just like you. Why not join the? ANCYL - viva JULIUS!! you might even justify chucking some burning tyres in a prestine river!

OH - if any one who does not fly fish read this post, please read the rest of this thread, and if you agree with MR> ANCYL LIFE SCIENCE FUCK YOU I WILL FISH WITH A SPINNER AND BREACK RULES AND CRY ABOUT MY SALLARY BECAUSE I HATE MY JOB AND GOLF NO RESPECT FOR OTHERS> please feel free to tell me to f off!”
Here's a link to the whole thread ... d=4&page=1
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By fatman
fatman wrote: ... ienna.html

Quick story:

This was sometime around 2008. I was living in a sweet house with 3 other dudes just a quick walk over the railroad tracks from town. My room was downstairs near the door and a computer desk. Late one night/early one morning, I was awakened by a roommate, TonsOfFun, poking his head into my room saying, "You gotta come upstairs, I think you might know this guy." Apparently, TOF had been at the computer when he saw some guy staggering around outside and peeking in the windows. Dude found the door, walked in, gave TOF a look, then cruised upstairs to the kitchen. TOF finished rubbing one out then followed the interloper upstairs. TOF found him laying on the floor munching on some sliced bread that he had located. He was nonverbal, but responsive.

For some reason, this triggered TOF to wake me up on a school night and deal with it. And remember, there were 2 other guys that he could have called on.

So he says, "I think you might know this guy." I was groggy and foggy and still in my underoos as I went upstairs. Lo and behold, I knew who this drunk fuck was. Not a friend, but it's a small town, and we'd met a few times. "Harry!" I said, "What the fuck are you doing?" His glazed eyes rolled in my direction, he may have grunted, but I couldn't detect any recognition.

TOF and I made our intentions known, and we kicked Harry the fuck out of our house. TOF and I stood around for a few minutes, shaking our heads and trying to laugh about it when we heard some noise on the back deck. We directed Harry back to the street, but he started wandering into the woods. One thing I forgot to mention, it was the middle of winter at 9000 ft. I remember that night well, blustery with blowing snow and the temp was about -5. Also, Harry was wearing skate shoes and a hoody and at this point was wallowing in a snowbank on the side of our house. Drunk as fuck.

I happened to know where Harry lived. TOF and I rounded him up and wrestled him into the back of my Jeep. Once in the car, he became a little more lucid, but just barely. He thanked us for taking him home, and related his adventures from earlier in his journey when he was lost on the railroad tracks. By the time we had driven the quarter mile to his apartment he was incoherent again. We watched him exit the vehicle and enter a building and considered our task accomplished.

We may have saved a life that night, either by not blowing his head off or by keeping him from freezing to death.

I never saw Harry again. He got fired a couple months later for doing something really stupid and hasn't been seen in the valley since then.

tangent: One morning we found TonsOfFun passed out on the island in the kitchen. He was flat on his back with no shirt laying on the remains of last night's dinner. We roused him and when he sat up, I shit you not, he had a fork poking out of his side and a pork chop stuck to his back.

bonus: TonsOfFun is proficient with fly lines and lives in the same town as 4eyedgeek.
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By Hogleg
CE's story reminds me of one when I first moved out to Colorado. Town of Breckinridge to be exact. January '92.

Driving home from the bar shitfaced about 2 a.m. on a night when it had been fucking dumping snow at about 2 inches per hour for several hours. Ambient temp probably about 20 Seppo.

As we made the turn up the hill towards the place where our beds, bongs and skis were located I happened to glance across this open snowfield behind the gas station where we would often stop for a gas station burrito after a night of drinking.

It was in that snowfield that I noticed something peculiar- a single Sorell boot sticking up-side-down out of the fresh snow about 50 yards from the road. Hmm. Kind of odd. Someone lost or threw a boot out in that field? Whatever.

We get home and rip some tubes and after a while realize that our room mate Curtis, who had walked home from the bar earlier that evening, wasn't passed out on the couch or on the floor of his room like usual.

Hmmm. Maybe he hooked up with a chick?

No way. This is a ski town. Eight dudes for every chick and Curtis is an Oaf, he ain't hookin' up with no chick.

I have a brief moment of clarity out of the bong and booze haze and glance over to the entry way where Curtis' Sorell boots should have been clumsily thrown onto the floor. Not there. I remember the boot sticking out of the snow.

Me: "Hey dudes, I know where Curtis is, he's gonna freeze to death, we gotta go get him"

We load up, drive down the hill, get out of the truck and follow his snow covered tracks toward that boot now just barely poking out of the snow.

"Holy shit is he dead?"

"I don't know"

We kick him. Nothing.

"Fuck me he's dead"

We frantically dig him out. He's unresponsive, lifeless, face is blue, he's post-holed his one leg up to his crotch, hands are gloveless and frozen- one still clutching onto a gas station burrito.

We roll him over onto his back, slap his face.

He opens his eyes, blinks a couple of times and says "where's my burrito?"

He lost the tip of a couple of digits but lived to do it all over again.

Dude would've died out there that night.

Last I heard of him he was serving time in Idaho for embezzlement of funds from some restaurant he was managing.
My running mate I the marines,would bite the neck off a long neck bottle of bud and pound down the remains. I wonder if he is still alive sometimes.
One morning we found TonsOfFun passed out on the island in the kitchen. He was flat on his back with no shirt laying on the remains of last night's dinner. We roused him and when he sat up, I shit you not, he had a fork poking out of his side and a pork chop stuck to his back
Hogleg wrote: We roll him over onto his back, slap his face.

He opens his eyes, blinks a couple of times and says "where's my burrito?"
This. Perfect.
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By fatman
after a late night in college, my brother woke up and stumbled into the kitchen where I was attempting to make coffee.

he got a glass and started the sink running, then he squinted and looked out the window.

"I wish it had snowed last night."

"Why's that?"

"So I could track down the motherfucker that shit in my mouth."
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By fatman
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