July 14, 2008

Gone Fishin' II

HURRRRR. I caught a rock bass today.

It had evil red eyes and used them for glaring at me as I worked to get the hook out. In the end I had to clip off the barb in order to free the poor little bastard, and I had to put it back in the river because I didn't have a bucket and I wasn't ready to leave. Also I didn't have my little minimum size requirement list on hand because I suck.

Toward the end I noticed I was getting more bites by moving the bobber a certain way against the current, and sure enough I got another strike (which got loose as I reeled it in, ah well). Luka has learned a new skill!

I only had some Oscar Meyer hot dogs for bait, so I went and caught a bunch of tadpoles in a shallow pool on the riverside. I only had a plastic grocery bag for a net but it worked fine... until I lost my balance during a scooping and fell into the damn river.

The mud and squishing shoes didn't bother me all that much since the weather was nice, but my flailing around ripped the ass out of my worn-out jeans (on both sides) so that the pants legs ended up hanging down like leg-warmers. That was amusing and would have been even moreso had there been enough light for random passers-by to spot me.

I only used one tadpole for bait before I decided the hot dogs were a better choice after all. I'm not fond of impaling living creatures, especially ones with helpless flailing little nubfeets.

My exposed bits got eaten by mosquitoes despite liberal lip-numbing applications of Deep-Woods OFF, but no ticks. Thank you Jesus, no ticks.

On the way out, I took a shortcut over a chain-link fence. It must have been pretty comical looking. I haven't practiced such a basic outdoor skill since about 100 pounds ago, but my pride was at stake so I didn't dare give up on it.

I assure you I looked cool as I landed.

The garden pond is now full of the excess river pollywogs, which I brought home after deciding not to use them for bait. The plan is to let them grow up into itsy-bitsy thumbnail frogs and make frog roarings at night, and hopefully eat all the mosquitos til they are so fat they roll around in a flopping heap and belch out clouds of bug wings whenever they try to croak. Probably.

I am now in a pretty good place. Still dreading the shrink visit tomorrow, but if I can survive Fight Club, I can handle a lady reading my mind and finding out all my secrets and using them to turn me into a zombie with no emotions.

Right? Right!

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