Frustration

I wake up at 4 am, grab the pack I loaded up the night before with my camo taped tri pods, high powered binoculars, water, ammo, and my 7mm magnum. As I open the door to my truck I wonder why the old people feel the need to walk their rodent like dogs in front of my house and stare while i am covered head to toe in brush camo. Can they see me?

I drive 30 miles away from home onto a dirt road up the mountain and see truck after truck. Shit everyone is coming out for the last 2 days of the hunt. Finally i found a spot to park and see a hill that I want to glass off of. I grab my 70lbs. pack out of my truck and start my mile and a half hike.

"I am too fat for this shit" I told myself, but still pushed on.

I reach the peak that I wanted, out of breath and wanting to throw up. I set up the glass and wait for the sun to start peeking over the hill tops. As I scan the half dead bushes, and cactus the wind starts to blow mildly shaking my optics so I can not see much movement on the field.

As the wind dies I am staring at a patch of cactus being approached slowly by a small group of javalina.  Some movement from beyond the prickly pear patch catches my eye. I set my rifle on the other tripod and focus my scope in.

BANG! Someones shot startled my buck down an canyon and out of range.

"Where the fuck is he?" I said to myself.

Suddenly  more shot fire, one after another, I hear yelling off in the distance as i am glassing to see if more people are around. Nothing.

I hike up to another hill top, this time leaving my pack behind. I glass down and see 4 people target shooting at what seems to be nothing. Fucking assholes.



I wonder if this round will be fired off this season.

-Kyle, who wants his first deer.

Coulda Been a Contender

Walt Redman called that fucker in, and the son of a bitch just about jumped into the truck. He stood about twenty yards from us, grunting and snorting, bloodshot eyes, covered in piss.

He had just been talking to her from down in the valley. Then he heard some other asshole bugling up here with her and he came to see about that. She was here somewhere; that pretty little cow elk that he had heard talking all slutty.

He got to the top of the hill and stopped.

What the hell is this? He stared, still quivering with desire. Who are these bastards? Two big metal bastards and three two-legged bastards standing up here all alone in the early morning light.

He stomped the ground and turned slightly, grunting. Something ain’t right, he knew now. The wind shifted and he caught the scent and turned his big head bolted down the hill, pussy be damned this shit smelled dangerous and he got out of here.

That was Tuesday. Elk season stated Friday. That randy kid wasn’t going to be tricked a second time. No sir.

Friday morning we hit the call, waved, and said hello from 425 yards as he turned and walked away, knowingly. That was the end of that.

I will become a better elk hunter. Yes. I will.



-Alex who will never be okay with 2am as a "get up" time.

SSSSSLAYERRRRRRRR

So my grandfather lives with my folks because he is to damn old to live alone. He is 92. He lives in my old room, and found an old shirt of mine.

delicious murder

The white truffle hid in the cool red folds. The garlic was angry and prowling and the olive oil made traction impossible. Absolutely no footing at all. The elk was long dead and the ectomycorrhizal fruiting body was sure to follow.

There was a low hum in the dim evening light that was felt more than heard. Muffled voices mumbled intoxicated through the wall. Smoke swirled around the patio through the sliding door.

A man appeared from the living room and walked to the refrigerator and removed a bottle of beer. Another man, in a camoflage baseball hat moved over to the plastic container and loomed above. The man with the beer stepped up beside and pointed a proud finger towards the warming flesh.

"Yeah?"
"Yeah."

He took a pull from the bottle and wiped his mouth on his arm and nodded. "Yeah."

A third man stepped into the room to join the others, knowing the time was close at hand.

The truffle closed it's eyes and shuddered, remembering the screams of the tomatoes when the door was slammed on the metal cylinder, their steaming lifeless eyes as they were dumped unceremoniously into the mixing bowl. The poor, innocent potatoes; their skin sliced from their bodies one dreadful howling slice at a time till they bled-out sticky on the white counter just to be dumped half-dead into the boiling liquid. At least the broccoli had been quick; a merciful decapitation.

A browning banana on the edge of the microwave looked down with sad, beaten eyes.

There was a grinding noise and the plate was lifted from the counter. They were moving toward the smoke. The chives cried out as the lid opened and the fire rolled and howled. The yellow peppers were stubborn and resolute, their faces unreadable as they were placed one by one on the hot steel with a sickening sizzle.

The garlic panicked.

The meat fell with a slap. The pain was instant and unbearable. The truffle choked through a scream into the smoke as the man with the beer placed another bleeding slab on the grill. The coals hissed in anger and flames flashed in terrible chaos. The truffle could take no more. The last thing it saw before losing consciousness was the face of the man in the camouflage baseball hat floating in the darkening twilight.

He was smiling.

-Alex who likes his death rare, please.

el salamander

Four parts part Corona or Corona Light
One part Jim Beam

Get some.

-Alex who knows you will love the deliciousness.
-Josh who has the best drinking crazy-eye in the business.

Halloween bringin' it.

-Alex who has a hundred points and a gold star for the person (besides FGFF crew) who can tell me where the boar on the pumpkin is from.

Fat Guy Diet? Or a proper way to die?

I would not say we battle with our weight, more so enjoy it.
If you are in Tucson this is one great way to start the FGFF diet!
Ad Mr. Lindy calls it, The "2 Finger Peek-A-Boo"It is 2 grilled cheese sandwiches, filled with 2 1/3lbs. hamburgers, tomatoes, onions, onion rings, lettuce, and Lindy's special sauce for your super feeding pleasure.

And you can only get this in Tucson at Lindy's on 4th.
Great way to live..... or die

I always knew that dude from Krull was a sicko.

cyclops bull shark... via chum.

beastialitor?

Top 10?

Awesome!



Due to our enjoyment of fishing, and drinking we have made the top ten best fly fishing websites for the fellas at The Daily Hunt and Fish.

As they say,
"Their fat, their fun, their a bit crude, and they love to fish. This is what blogging is all about. A few buddies not only documenting their fishing adventures but also giving us a glimpse into their strange but real life. WARNING this website is not for everybody. I will not pull up this site up with my seven year old next to me. It is a true blog you never know what they will post next."

For me I would like to note some our special talents,
Alex, amazing with the camera, video making, most of the stuff on here, dedication to catch the fish, the only one of us that is fully literate, and putting up with Kyle's shit.

Aaron, Knowing where and when to fish, ability to drink "copious" amounts of booze, producing amazing yet horribly disturbing body smells, and putting up with Kyle's shit.

And for myself, I am always ready to put my body through a new experiment for research or just for the hell of it.

And to the Fellas at Daily Hunt and Fish, thank you for helping up spread the word!

The hits just keep coming...

The woman behind the counter generally wouldn't give you too much shit, and that was all right.

It was a place to go. A place to stumble when you needed that last 6-pack, 40oz, can of cope, taquito or thirstbuster. A place where you knew you could make it back because it was a line-of-sight deal and no matter how hopeless you felt you could always see your way home, even if crawling tore a hole in your bag and you lost your peanut M&M's somewhere along the way.

It was the place across the street, the store, the K, or the market (if you grew up in some backward-ass place).

Whatever you called it, it's gone. Goddammit.

The second let down of the new year.

the usual

I walked into the Golden Nugget and Holly seemed happy to see me. She had begun to walk out from around behind the bar as I opened the door, headed for the Scratchers vending machine but when she saw me she twisted on her heel and flowed back behind the wood and spun me a napkin. She had won $500 a few weeks ago and she can't seem to stay away from it, she said.

It is cash only and I had $10 in my pocket, plenty at the Nugg, or so it used to be.

"Holly," I said, "I got ten bucks and I need something strong." She leaned over the bar and fetched the usual. I slapped the money down as she poured the Yukon Jack into the shot glass. It was a good pour. It's always a good pour at the Nugg. As she walked to the register she paused. "Umm," she began, "it looks like they changed the prices for 2011. Yukon is now $6.50."

Six fifty? It used to be three fifty, or four, I can't remember but ten dollars used to be enough to get started, at least, and a beer back is little consolation.

The first let down of the new year.

On a better, more in-tune note, the new BloodKnot is out. Represent.

distracted...

Sometimes you just have to go to war in the button aisle of the local craft store, and the random fly-tying-supply-foraging be damned.

halfway there....

Okay, so here is what I want to know... after installing this sheet and letting the "activated carbon fabric" soak up all the goodness for a year, how would one go about  removing the months of condensed awesomeness for a massive biological attack on Kyle?

via CHUM

our savior!

'nuff said.

(starring Aaron's ass)

Devious Behaviour - some hot video on video action

1)

2)

the Landeen Photography blog

In doing my little part to keep the internet from running out of stuff, and partially because I am two weeks into an alcohol-free month causing restlessness and boredom, I have created the Landeen Photography blog.

I have found to my delightment (that should be a word) that over the last year or so the FGFF site has been a great way to connect and stay in touch with the fly fishing community, and even make some good friends. I can only hope that myself and others will be able to get the same enjoyment from a photography blog.

You can expect tips, tricks, stories, DIY articles, incessant rambling, and even a photograph from time to time. So head on over and say hello.

-Alex

Diagnosis: Fat

My truck is the only vehicle in the parking lot. I step out, shut the door and take a deep breath. It is a cloudy afternoon, but the blacktop leaks heat into the souls of my worn-out sneakers as I walk away from the furd and towards the medically-nondescript tan building.

The door is locked, and I put my face close to the glass, hands cupped around my eyes to cut the glare. Suddenly a very pregnant but very cute blond pops into view and I take a step back as she unlocks the bolt.

"Are you Alex?" I nod and she pushes the door the rest of the way open and I step inside. The scene is your basic medical waiting space: Pinkish-but-not-quite wall paper surrounds comfortable-but-not-quite wood and fabric furniture sprinkled with various cross-gender reading material, and a fish tank on the back wall.

I take a seat in the corner and pretend to be interested a National Geographic as I spy on the receptionist; I would guess 8 months, but she is very thin which makes it hard to tell. While I was staring and thinking about how I have been told some women have increased sex drive late in their pregnancy, she looks up from behind the counter, our eyes meet. Abort! Abort! I flip a page in the magazine and glance back up and she half smiles and tells me the doctor is back and will be with me shortly. Busted.

I am not here for any reason in particular, just a check up. But there is always that little nagging vioce deep in the back of your mind telling you that they are going to find something and your day will be totally ruined. Luckily, I am not old enough to get the lubed-finger of doom just yet.

I toss the magazine aside, and as I stare at the fish tank wondering what material would make a good fish-flake-food fly when the Doc calls me into the back.

He is a small man, and standing next to each other I can't help but think we would looks like the cover of the movie Twins, if Arnold had a gut and Danny Devito lost 60 pounds that is.

We exchange pleasantries and hows-your-mothers as we walk back into the exam room. Fifteen minutes and the standard what-have-you later the Doc is ready to lay it on me. He tosses some unintelligible paperwork on the table, adjusts his spectacles and takes a seat on the ever present rolley stool.

'Well, your blood pressure is great, and you seem to be pretty healthy but...." (here it comes) "I would like to see you lose some weight." Then he goes on to explain that walking is not really exorcise and 40oz curls don't count either, and I should cut down on the fast-food. Bummer. I told him if walking isn't doing me any good I guess I will just have to start driving to the convenience store across the street when I run out of beer. He didn't laugh.

He tells me that a monthly membership to a gym is not that much money, and explains that he loves to get up at the crack of dawn and work out and shower at the gym, and how great it is and how much money he saves on his water bill from showering there.

I tell him I think he has a fetish for showering around sweaty dudes, and he threatens me with a prostate exam. I told him to forget it, and that area is off-limits, especially to guys who like hanging around YMCA locker rooms. Plus, he may be in good shape but I got at least a benjamin on the Doc and I think I could take him.

As he walked me to the door, I look for the pregnant-hotness but she is nowhere to be found. I promise the Doc to look into some exorcise options, and head out the door toward the furd, hearing the door click locked behind me.

I close the door, turn the key and start to head home. After a few blocks I see a Sonic Drive-In, and wonderful images of onion rings and tater tots start to dance around my head. My mouth salivates, and my hand instinctively starts goes for the turn signal. But something stops me, and my hand falls back to the arm rest.

The Doc's words ring in my head, I fight to keep my foot off the break pedal. I begin to shake uncontrollably as the entrance to fried deliciousness approaches quickly. I let out a primal scream and throw the wheel to the left away from the onion rings and tots, and spin-out across 3 lanes of traffic sending women and children and pets fleeing for their lives.

The world spins as I careen over a curb and through some shrubbery as fast food wrappers and empty water bottles fly like crazed bats around my head. The vehicle comes to a screeching halt, and I lift my head and slowly look around.

I am in a parking lot, no not the lot itself, but a strange curved little roadway to one side of the it. I hear a strange voice outside the car asking me something. Asking what they can get for me today? What the hell is going on? I roll down the window and staring right back at me is a glowing menu of the Jack in the Box variety. The woman repeats the question, as I dumbly stare at the little speaker.

Nothing, I want nothing you evil temptress! But my mouth betrays me! "Uh.... I will take a number 4, I guess."

"And to drink?"

Nothing to drink either you dummy! My brain screams at my rumbling stomach. "Uh, a Sprite.... large"

Fail.

-Alex who swears he doesn't have a "thing" for pregnant chicks, unless they have cheeseburgers.