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.
User avatar
By yard4sale
#646555
I did the same last year then I used one of Bills flies all week.
User avatar
By Redchaser
#646560
yard4sale wrote:I did the same last year then I used one of Bills flies all week.
That's my plan too.
User avatar
By austrotard
#646572
confession: 'ammered in 'obart.

relates: iron house brewery.

elates: 20min to departcha'.

lates: mitch.
User avatar
By Ginseng Sullivan
#646579
Damn Joe, It's like we are brothers. Your Mom should make the Saint list about a week after mine.

Mine's gone now but I'd give up fishing for the year to have to yell at him for one more day.

That almost makes me believe I have.

:cool
User avatar
By SLSS
#646589
Ginseng Sullivan wrote:Damn Joe, It's like we are brothers. Your Mom should make the Saint list about a week after mine.

Mine's gone now but I'd give up fishing for the year to have to yell at him for one more day.

That almost makes me believe I have.

:cool
Our mothers, triplets I fear. Fathers too, apparently.

I am blessed with many siblings, some more patient than I am.
User avatar
By Spicytuna
#646592
Kinda similar to Joe's female office restroom experience.

Confession:

The stalls in my office building now have toilet brushes next to them. Guess the janitor go tired of the all the track marks.

Elates:

Thats his damn job (no offense SOBF) he signed up for it.
User avatar
By yard4sale
#646593
I check in here 5x more when Joe has one of these running stories.
User avatar
By pbrstreetgang
#646597
Another fine display of your writing and living skills, AJ.

This reminds me of the memories I have of my grandfather. I will never forget steaks on the stove, and the build up of grease behind the stove as I cleaned out his kitchen after he passed.
I was scraping the wall behind the stove, and asked my dad how many steaks all this grease represented.
"Probably every one since the day we moved in here in 1945."

My grandfather's unspoken, but apparent rule:
"If it's not on fire, things are OK."
User avatar
By Average Joe
#646608
The days that followed were all more or less the same: cooking and cleaning and listening to the same fucking news stories blaring out of the television every hour on the hour.

Early to bed.

Early to rise.

Every so often the Old Man would get stuck in a loop and ask me the same question over and over and over again.

One day his caretaker had something he needed to take care of in town and told my father that he'd be back at around 2:00 PM.

At 1:00 PM the Old Man opened his eyes and yelled, "What time is it?"

"One."

"Caretaker should be back soon. Too early for a drink I guess."

And as soon as those words left his lips, he'd be out.
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For the next hour he asked me the same goddamned question every ten minutes or so, and every time I told him the time he'd respond with, "Caretaker should be back soon. Too early for a drink I guess."

At 2:05 PM he opened his eyes and yelled, "What time is it?"

"A little after two."

"Caretaker should have been back by now. Did you hear him come in?"

"No."

The caretaker didn't come back until 4:30.

It was a long afternoon.

I'd often look outside at the dogs and think, "I wish I had your patience."
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Little things started getting to me, like the stacks of mail scattered all over the kitchen table.

Towards the end of the week the weather warmed up, and the Old Man took to sitting outside. That gave me the opportunity to go through his mail, pull out all the letters, and pile up all the unread magazines on the counter.
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One of the letters was from the Department of Motor Vehicles.

When 4:00 PM rolled around, he came into the kitchen and said, "It's four o'clock. Make me a drink."

I filled a tumbler with ice, topped it with brandy, and placed it in front of him.

While he was taking his first sip I said, "There's a letter here from the DMV. Looks like a registration form for the Jeep."

"Throw it in the burn box."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not paying it."

"Why not?"

"Because the Jeep doesn't run anymore."

"Well then you need to tell them that. Otherwise they're just going to keep sending you letters."

"I don't need to tell them shit. Fuck them. Write on there 'Go suck shit' and I'll have the caretaker mail it the next time he's in town."

After he went to bed that night I put the letter and the rest of his mail in my bag so my mother could sort through it once we got home.

As the week progressed I took the Winchester on longer and more frequent walks, and found more to admire and appreciate than downed trees.
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On one of my walks, I stumbled across this.
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In the 80's my father and I threw this thing on the back of his truck and lived in it while we attempted to reach Alaska. That journey deserves a story of its own, so I won't share it here, but seeing it again brought back a lot of memories.

Friday night after dinner the Old Man said, "Tomorrow we go home."

"No, we're going home on Sunday."

"I'm ready to go home now."

"That may be so, but Mom is not well enough to take care of you. We're going home on Sunday."

"OK. Well then tomorrow night we'll go to the steakhouse for dinner, so you'll know what a good meal tastes like."

(To be continued.)
User avatar
By augustwest
#646609
pbrstreetgang wrote:My grandfather's unspoken, but apparent rule:
"If it's not on fire, things are OK."
Words to live by right there.

Fine work, Joe. You're a lucky man, so is your father.
User avatar
By fatman
#646616
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you coulda made some beer money off ironman
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