All threads that bitch about new, existing, or old members will be posted/relocated here. Keep this shit off the General forum, because no one wants (or cares) to hear your opinions. Now go back to the other forums and post something worthy of reading.
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By Spicytuna
Confession: While planning for a trip coming up in two weeks mother nature threw the river a curve-ball with flows to the point where It's close to uncharted waters.

Adventure here I come.

Elates: does that make me some kind of Pioneer????

Can't wait to get the fuck on the road and out fishing.

I love all the water we got and still have, but I am going to lose my shit if I don't get out of town, so this trip should fit the bill just nicely.

If plan A doesn't work I have a solid plan B.

Be ready for a TR in the next few weeks with many grammatical errors and hopefully fish pics.

Confession #2: Old Porch will be along for the ride and I cant wait to hang with him and we are even meeting another drakian upon arrival.
to bad this place seems to suk so bad.
Last edited by Spicytuna on Mon Mar 13, 2017 11:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
By Waderfunk
Confession: I used a ScottP SBS

Relates: Doesn't make me gay

Lates: I took a photo of it

Tes: Totally gay
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By Woolybug25
I see no burger thumb. You did it wrong.
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By Spicytuna
"Scottp SBS", Classic!!!
User avatar
By MTgrayling
wouldn't it be funny if that "tangy" "sour" stuff on my pizzas
that Rick asked me about in OR wasn't cheese like I told him it was?

"secret sauce" sounds a bit strange

The truth is ...

... that not all midgets are fun

... or nice

... or are hooks-ers

edit: 'c cause you knew I would
edit: 8 of them just fucking cause...
Last edited by MTgrayling on Wed Mar 15, 2017 10:10 am, edited 8 times in total.
User avatar
By Average Joe
My father is eighty-five.

Several months ago while leaving his ranch he inadvertently drove his truck off the road and down a hill.

A large tree stopped his progress.

He never wears a seat belt.

After climbing out of his truck, he walked a quarter mile through the brush to his caretaker's house.

The caretaker's son then drove him to the hospital.

The staff at the local hospital took x-rays upon his arrival.

The images revealed four broken ribs and a cracked spine.

There wasn't much they could do for him, so the next day he went home.

The insurance company totaled his truck and mailed him a check.

Contrary to everyone's advice, a few weeks after the accident he bought a new Ford.

A few weeks ago while heading towards his ranch he drove it off the road.

Because he wasn't wearing his seat belt he was thrown to the floor.

Because he didn't have the strength to pull himself up or get out of the truck, he spent the next several hours using his heel to lean on the horn until someone drove by and gave him assistance.

He hasn't been the same since.

My mother is eighty-five, and she is now his primary caregiver.

She had one of her knees replaced last week.

Her biggest concern before the surgery was who would take care of my father while she recovered.

I told her I planned to take time off work after her procedure so that I could help her in any way she wished.

She said, "Would you please drive your father up to his ranch and look after him until I'm able to get around?"

"Of course."

On the morning of our departure, my mother had all off his things packed, labeled, and organized.

"These are his pills. He takes these in the morning, and these before bed. For breakfast he has a banana, orange juice, and a sweet roll. He eats lunch at noon and dinner at six. Try to get him to walk, and don't let him drink too much."

She then turned to my father and said, "Here are your hearing aids and here are some batteries," and I watched as he put them in his vest pocket without responding.

"Here is your cellphone."

"I don't need that."

"Take it just in case."

"No, I don't need that."

My father then looked at me and said, "We'll take my truck. You can drive."
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We hit some traffic on our way out of the city, as I knew we would. He'd refused my suggestion to leave an hour our two before the morning rush. Fortunately, everything opened up once we crossed the bridge, and as we made our way north he started to share old memories as they came back to him.

We passed a large tract of town homes, and he said, "That used to be a big dairy." A few miles up the highway he pointed at a shopping center and said, "I used to ride horses in that meadow," and a few miles after that he pointed towards an old cemetery on a distant hill and said, "I've two uncles buried up there."

I'd noticed he wasn't wearing his seat belt and said, "You're not buckled in."

"I hate those fucking harnesses."

"I'm surprised the 'fasten seat belt' alarm isn't going off."

"I had my mechanic disable it. That ringing noise drove me fucking nuts."

We stopped and ate lunch at a restaurant outside of Ukiah, and a few minutes after paying the bill we entered the canyon, where for the next half hour we slowed to a crawl while navigating a four mile dirt tract littered with potholes the size of bathtubs.

As we made our way up to the house I heard him mutter, "Lost another tree."
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After dropping him off and unloading the truck, I took his things upstairs and found him standing in the middle off the kitchen, staring into an open kitchen cabinet.

"Where are my hearing aids?"

"You put them in your vest pocket before we left the house."

He shoved his hand inside his pocket, pulled out the box, looked at it, and placed it on the counter. Then he checked the rest of his pockets and said, "Where's my cellphone?"

"You left it at the house."

"But I need it."

"Mom told you to take it before we left, but you said you didn't want it."


He checked his pockets yet again and said, "Where are my hearing aids?"

"They're on the counter behind you."


"I'm going to head back to town and pick up some groceries. Do you need me to do anything before I go?"


When I returned I went upstairs to check on him and came across this.
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He was sitting in his chair a few feet away from the stove, watching television.

"Why is this burner on?"

"To warm the place up."

"You've got a wood burning stove right there in the corner. Do you want me to make you a fire?"

"I like the burner."

"How about I bring out the portable electric heater that's in your bedroom."

"I like the burner."

I went downstairs and started dinner in the main kitchen.

On the drive up I'd asked him what he had in his pantry.

"Do you have any olive oil?"

"Yeah, I've lots of olive oil. We don't need any more olive oil."

"Good. How about olives?"

"I've lots of olives."

"OK. Do you have any canned tomatoes?"

"Yeah, I've lots of tomatoes. Don't buy any of those."

And so it went.

I opened his pantry, did a thorough search, and way in the back found one bottle of well-aged olive oil.
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I called him downstairs and said, "Where's all this olive oil you said you had?"

"Right there," he replied, pointing to a pair of bottles sitting next to the stove.
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Mexican olive oil would have to do.

I did some more digging and found the tomatoes...
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... as well as the olives.
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"Do you want me to move all of this mail off the table?"

"No. Leave it there."

While I was getting dinner ready, he cranked the volume on the television and watched the news.

During a commercial he looked at the wall clock, then turned to me and said, "What time is it?"


"Too early for a drink then."

Every fifteen minutes or so he'd ask again, and always followed it up with, "Too early for a drink."

When the clock reached 3:55 he said, "Close enough" and poured himself a glass of brandy.

Just before dinner I gave him a fork and knife.

"Where are the napkins?" I asked.

"Over there."

I placed a stack of paper napkins in front of him because I thought he might need more than one, and then watched as he took a single napkin off the top and tore it in half.
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At six I plated his dinner and put it in front of him.
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"Pour me some wine."

I opened a bottle, poured him a glass, and then made a plate for myself.

By the time I sat down he was halfway through his meal.

I was still eating when he pushed away his empty plate and said, "I'm going to bed."

I followed him upstairs and helped him get undressed.

"Don't forget to take your pills."

"Yeah, I know."

I went back downstairs, turned off the fucking television, and finished eating. Then I put away the leftovers, washed the dishes, and poured myself a nightcap. I was beat.

I went upstairs and set up my cot just outside his bedroom, and as I crawled into my sleeping bag I thought, "This is going to be a long fucking week."
User avatar
By yard4sale
Trust me AJ, it could be a lot worse.

Enjoy your time with the man who created a great story teller.
User avatar
By B.M. Barrelcooker
Understand ......

It's a strange blessing.

Got to love the strong old birds.
User avatar
By ironman
Confession: This weekend, I'm spending $600 to rent a Uhaul to deliver $5 worth of worldly goods over 3 days, to a storage unit, while my epileptic 10 yo god visits the kennel camp.

For added fun, I have a separate vehicle rolling, inlaws, outlaws, fukofflaws, over which I'd say Fuk You.

(I'm unfortunately growing more direct. Unfortunate for them. Better for me)

I'd rather be hanging out like regulars, with the god.

AJ: preach therapeutic. It's medicine.
User avatar
By Redchaser

Sorry it's a struggle as it's never easy watching ones we love become less and less capable, but enjoy it while you can. I wish like hell my dad was still around to annoy the fuck out of me.
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By Average Joe
I woke at 2:00 AM to the sound of him coughing, and dozed until I heard him rise at 5:00. When I heard the water running I knew that he was up for good. The act of washing his hands, face, and hair in the bathroom sink with cold water, every morning, was a habit he'd acquired long before I was born.

He managed to get dressed by himself, then came out of his room, walked past my cot, and went downstairs to feed his dogs. I rose a few minutes after he'd gone, threw on the clothes I'd worn the previous day, skipped the cold water bathing ritual, and followed after him.

I walked into the kitchen and was greeted by the sounds and images of the morning news at full volume, but there was no sign of the Old Man.

I'd boiled a ham shank the day before and let some beans soak overnight - he loved soup - so I now gathered some onions, carrots, and celery, and started chopping.

A few minutes later the Old Man hobbled in.

"Where have you been?" I asked.

"I hired a Mexican to cut up some of these trees and burn the brush. I was just showing him where the chainsaw is."

"Did you take your pills?"

"Yeah, I took my goddamn pills."

"Do you want some breakfast?"

"No, I had my banana and my orange juice."

I noticed that the package of sweet rolls I'd purchased was still unopened, so I said, "Do you want a sweet roll?"


I'd turned off the television when I'd entered the kitchen, and I watched as he now picked up the remote, turned it back on, cranked up the volume, and settled into one of the chairs scattered around the table.

A few minutes later he turned to me and said, "There's coffee over there if you want some."

I walked over to the pot and found this.
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"When was the last time you cleaned this thing?"

"Never. I don't drink coffee."

I put the pot in the sink, then went to the fridge and grabbed a beer.

An hour later I had three different pots of soup simmering on the stove, and got ready to start on the pies.

"Where does your caretaker store the eggs?"

"I don't know, but the goddamn chickens have been yodeling all fucking morning, so you can probably find half a dozen in the hen house."

I grabbed a bowl and headed down the hill, past more lost trees.
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I sliced up some onions, sauteed them in butter, mixed them with some eggs, sour cream, bacon, and cheese, ladled the whole mess into some pie crusts, and then threw them in the oven.
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Onion pie is something my grandmother used to make, and one of my father's favorite dishes.

A proper baker would have covered the crusts with foil so they wouldn't get so brown, but you get what you pay for.

At 11:00 he picked up the remote, pointed it at the television, and started pressing buttons.

Nothing changed, so he pressed the buttons harder, jabbing the remote towards the television, looking as if he was trying to stab it with a knife.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to change the goddamn channel!"

"You need to point the remote at the box on top of the fridge, not at the television."


"You need to point the remote towards the box on top of the fridge."


I walked over to where he was standing and gently turned him towards the control box. When the channel changed, he threw the remote on the table and said, "I think it needs new batteries."


At 11:50 he grabbed the other half of the napkin he'd torn up the night before and said, "I'm ready for some lunch."

"What would you like?"


I gave him some bread, and took some ham and cheese out of the fridge.

"I need some mayonnaise."

I took out the mayonnaise and placed the jar in front of him.

"I need some lettuce."

"Do you want some red onion as well?"


"How about some tomatoes?"

"No. Just the lettuce and onion."

Once he finished his lunch he said, "I'm going upstairs and having a cigar."


"Aren't you going to have one?"

"Let me clean up first. I'll join you in a minute."

"That can wait."

I went upstairs and he handed me a cigar and a pack of matches.

"Where's the lighter I gave you?" I asked.

"Right here. It doesn't work."

I picked it up, held it to the light, and saw that it was empty.

I pulled a lighter I'd brought from home out of my pocket, lit the cigar, and then handed the lighter to my father.

"Here. Keep this one until I get yours fixed."

We sat there together for a little over an hour, smoking our cigars, and never exchanged a word.

Once we'd finished I said, "I think I'll take your Winchester out for a walk up the mountain."


"Do you need anything before I go?"


I filled the magazine of his old shotgun with buckshot and tried to get one of the dogs to join me, but they showed no interest...
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... so I headed up the mountain by myself.
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Everywhere I looked I saw downed trees.
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When I returned, I found the Old Man snoozing in front of the television.
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My father loves meatloaf, so that's what I later served him for dinner, along with some mashed potatoes and gravy, and a bit of Swiss chard from his garden.
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After dinner I helped him into bed, and as I was cleaning up I mused about how much easier this day had been than the one before.

Once everything had been put away, I sat down, poured myself a drink and thought "It's actually no more difficult than hosting Mitch for a week."

(To be continued.)
User avatar
By Redchaser
For the last couple of weeks I've been tying tarpon flies for a trip this spring whenever I have a few minutes to spare. I pretty much felt like I was done, I certainly have enough, but last night I counted them and I have tied 90 flies. My OCD is going to make me tie 10 more to make it an even one hundred.
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So you want to own a flyshop?

Great stuff, Rich, keep em coming.

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