.: Randomness :.

[edible_eye]

2 things:

1.) the wait is over. i detonated an atomic warhead inside my wife yesterday and then spent the next four hours picking up her pieces from the back yard.

2.) teapot-hot - i love it when a sexy girl says, "whatever pleases you".

thank you.

[Granny-like_the_apple]

I hope everyone understands why I heart Mr. Poon after this. Look! Gaze upon his awesomeness!

[AlKilyu]

Defend yourself from Gay French Ass Rapers! Mr. Poon sucks. Alot.

Chicken of the Sea, and how Something Wicked This Way Came to me while crabbing.


I have a hobby, but I prefer to think of it as a habit since I don’t derive any real pleasure from it; in the sense pleasure is derived from a thing such as a hobby and not the mind numbing angst pleasure derived from a habit, which is to say I spend a lot of money on it and never have anything to actually show for it or any fun for that matter, hence the angst.

I like to fish, that is my habit. And not just fish, I’ve become so proficiently abysmal at my hobby-habit that I’ve extended my experience to shrimping, crabbing, lobstering, and even scalloping under the misguided assumption I might be good at, just possibly, one of these.

Needless to say, I am not very good at any of these. I do however own a lot of expensive equipment that, if someone were good at any one of the before mentioned hobbies, he or she could probably go into business for themselves selling people like me the bait with which to catch noting in their lovely, and rather expensive various pieces of equipment.

And make a nice living at it.

The piece of equipment that bears the burden of my current unzenlike state, my Sunday afternoon drive through hell while trapped behind an elderly couple with a bumper sticker that reads, “Honk If I’m Going Too Slow…I’m So Old I Won’t Hear You Anyway,” is a crab trap. And the piece of equipment that the Outdoor World salesman assured me to work---worked; he merely failed to mention it would work much the same way an ancient Chinese torture device does, or even the way a put-it-together-yourself bookshelf with four boards, a package of screws, and a twenty sheet diagram does, which is to say, it doesn’t.

The device resembled a pyramid, if pyramids were made out of plastic coated wire with tri-folding sides and a little latch with a string affixed to the top, that is. And as luck would have it—the makers of my crab trap and the pyramids at Gaza have one unique thing in common…no one knows who or where the makers are. The thing they do *not* share in common, however, is one thousand years from now when my crab trap is unearthed from the riverbed it now rests in by whatever passes for the dominant, future, sapient lifeform; the dominant, future, sapient lifeform will not, in fact, marvel and gaze at the wondrous ingenuity. The dominant, future, sapient lifeform will, instead, transport the contraption at a very quick pace to the nearest riverbed still containing water, very deep and unfathomable water, and chunk it in.

And then commence to catch a crab dinner (or whatever passes for the dominant crustacean of that then period) on a bit of string and whatever passes for a chicken’s neck in that distant, then period.

Which is what I should have done, and yet something about that concept strikes me as too easy. So I bought a different crab trap, whose makers I verified were still locatable, and could be contacted if need be.

This trap was much simpler in design, having foregone the ancient Egyptian construction and settled for an ergonomically Gilligan’s Island approach, which I appreciated. I could immediately see how the thing worked, and that kind of shit makes me happy to no end. Two metal hoops, one small one large, connected together with a string netting so that, when lifted, it formed a quasi basket. On the outer hoop are three more stings, affixed to the hoop’s edges, and they come to a point and meet at a smallish S looking hook of metal. On the S looking hook you attach another bit of string, and lower the basket into the water.

Which I proceeded to do, over and over again with childlike glee, happy that it worked as advertised, and happy pyramid building had gone out of style…for the most part.

After a goodly amount of time dipping my crab trap into the river I decided it was time to put it to the true test, and placed my bait (as per the instructions) in the bottom of the device, and lowered it into the water, and waited. While waiting I began to think of steamed crabs, crab cakes, crab bisque, crab salad, and then for some odd reason I began to think about body crabs, at which point I lost my appetite and hoisted the trap out of the water.

My expectation for crab, for North Atlantic Blue Crab, for the pernicious spider crab, possibly some cheetah crabs (called so locally because of their coloring and habit of skirting out of the reach of a would be crab connoisseur with great zeal) and even the able to bend metal and leap tall buildings super crab, the Stone Crab, was great. My expectation for catching great big smelly offensive crusty ugly slimy repugnant snails, on the other hand, was quite low.

There is a saying that goes something like, “wish in one hand and shit in the other, and see which fills up the faster,” and apparently it is the hand holding the shit, and apparently snails are attracted to the smell of turds, which is why the hand holding the shit fills up so quickly. Or so I’ve surmised.

After checking with the instructions that had been included with the crab trap, and verifying that the intent of the trap was (indeed) to catch crabs, and not snails (and verifying the location of the makers and insuring they weren’t out of France or French Quebec) I decided to give it another try. I dumped the snails unceremoniously back into the water, tied a fresh, fat and fleshy chicken neck to the bottom of the trap, and relocated to a spot a good distance from both the place where I had caught the snails, and the place I had deposited them. Not being an expert on escargot, their normal range of habitat, average slinking and sliming speed, or sadistic disposition toward would be crab/snail harvesters…I wanted to make sure I had enough distance between them and me.

I, apparently, erred in my calculations.

After a thorough period of time, of the quantity and quality that I would (in my mammalian concept of crustaceans) expect to be enticed by a nice and fresh hunk of Perdue chicken neck (and why I used chicken necks and not any other portion of the chicken goes back to an age old tradition—I suppose—where crabs in the distant past dinned exclusively on the necks of chickens, but how the chickens got along without their necks I couldn’t begin to tell you) but time long enough for those distant memories of chicken neck banquets to be rekindled in the bonelike armored covering of the crabs brains, and be drawn into my trap where I could, in turn, turn them into a banquet of my own.

The snails were laughing at me, and I’m not even French—or how the French would say--fuck you.

I say that with a little trepidation because I don’t know if snails can actually, in the physical sense, laugh. They can, I believe, conceptualize the principal of laughter, and exhibit this trait by playing cruel and vicious jokes when the need suits them.

As I slowly pulled the trap from the river bed my eyes plumbed the depths, expectant for the outline of netting to materialize from the murky water. As the large outer ring began to solidify my enthusiasm grew, for in my heart I had no doubt I had finally mastered my hobby, and would dine on the succulent white meant of water dwelling creatures. Yum, tasty. Slowly, John Woo style slow, frame by frame porno-moneyshot slow, final five seconds hoop shot slow, old couple on a Sunday drive slow…the bottom of the basket appeared, and I could immediately discern two things.

The first thing was my chicken neck was gone. Not a little gone, not chewed on and bits of flesh clinging gone, but completely gone. The next thing I noticed was the plate sized blue crab settled neatly on the trap’s bottom, docile and unaggresive, as if it knew what was awaiting and had resigned itself to the fate. And that was good, I like a crab that knows its place in the food chain. Usually the things are all claws and snapping attitude when you bring them up, with a New York air and mobster mentality of wanting to whop off your digits and then going around to all your nearest relatives and whopping off theirs for good measure. This one was different. It just sat there.

As I brought it on the dock it became apparent why it just sat there. There wasn’t, as such, anything there. Oh, there was the shell, which was an extremely impressive shell (as I said the size of a diner plate) but there wasn’t anything in, as such, the shell. Nadda, zilch, or as the French would say, fuck you.

Thinking about the French brought my mind back to my escargot friends, my happy, slimy, non-internal-skeletal-sadistic-muscles-of-limited-evolution-and-no-love-for-Darwin-or-the-quadroped-fish-descendant-he-rode-in-on, friends. And I wondered, because there wasn’t a doubt in my mind they had, with their limited mobility and non opposable thumbs (or any digits for that matter) and limited thinking capacity, relieved my trap of the succulent chicken neck (say Perdue say Yum Tasty) and placed the empty husk of a crab in its place as a great joke on me. I had no doubt about that whatsoever. It was, as the French would say…Fuck You.

But still, I wondered. And what I wondered about, what my mind swam around and contemplated in a dizzying, say I just flew in from Albany and boy are my arms tired (badumdumdamn) way was this: What had the crab done to piss the snails off?

With this question in mind I packed up my hobby equipment, my chicken necks (say Perdue say Yum Good) and headed home for some chicken of the sea, hold the sea and add a side of, how the French would say, fuck you.

[MrMaelstrom]

Actually, Tstone, the french say: fuckez vous...

Just thought I'd lend a hand.

Somehow, the Zenlike attitude fishermen always seem to have when facing those long hours of nothingness (or the long, dark, teatime of the soul, for those of you who drink tea) always eluded me more than the fish, and those were as slippery as elusive and small, I can tell you.

I hated getting beaten at chess by a computer, so I bought another computer, and made them play eachother, and I found peace.

[WolfMoon]

Those 'S' shaped hooks are called S-hooks, babe.

I have a hobby that I enjoy also.Kinda a love/hate relationship with it.I "remake" dolls.Take the old hair out,reroot it with black, purple, blue or anything I have layin' around.

I once searched for the 'prefect' color of hair to reroot a doll.When I finally found it I was soooo happy(even though I would only be making this doll for someone to win off of ebay), it was a beautiful neon-lime-green.I worked for days and days on this doll so excited was I, only to realize when I was done that the hair had dyed the vinyl on the dolls face green!And it wasn't something you could just wash off either.

I share your dismay, luv, for I've felt the sting of fate(or w/e) laughing at my expense.


:x

Originally Posted by TStone

But still, I wondered. And what I wondered about, what my mind swam around and contemplated in a dizzying, say I just flew in from Albany and boy are my arms tired (badumdumdamn) way was this: What had the crab done to piss the snails off?

Man, that had me rolling earlier today when i read it. lol.

i went crabbing once in south Louisiana. i was told to use a string with a chicken neck tied to one end. Then slowly yank the fuckers out of the water. We caught a few of those mean old bastards...didnt eat them though.

i think the "neck on a string" technique was some sordid joke the South Louisiana Coonass Cajuns were playing on us North Louisiana Rednecks...for a few good sized aligators kept taking our bait...and string.

Such fun.

-ViN

[gingerbreadwench]

I have two new lovely kittens!

They are sweet little litter-mates named Hugo and Alice (anyone know what the names are from?) and they are just as cute as they can be. Alice loves watching TV and Hugo loves taking naps. They are a-freaking-dorable, but look almost exactly alike and are hard to tell apart.

Oh well! I think they're going to be excellent companions-- a lot better than those neurotic birds.

Happy hasenpfeffer.

[Jane13]

Tstone, I loved reading you entry. The only time I really whent fishing was when I was about 6 years old with my dad... I must have caught five fish that day, and he didn't catch any. I threw them back GBW- kittens are soo cute ^.^ My dad always used to make jokes about hasenpfeffer around my friend who had pet rabbits. I am the onl person awake in my house on this Easter Sunday morning. We had breakfast and everyone went to sleep 0.o Old people are funny.

[winged_dreams]

I remember crabbing with my cousins in North Carolina. I think they almost fell in a couple of times. It was fun crabbing. I can't wait til it's summer and I don't have to study any freaking more. It takes up so much of my time. It seems that all I've been doing lately is studying. And kittens are quite cute!

[SuicideJade]

i am not eating at wendy's ever fucking again!!
http://www.reuters.com/newsArticle.j...ddlyEnoughNews

[edible_eye]

why not, jade? a couple of fingers'll tickle you all the way down to your belly. talk about having a feel-good meal.

[akhira]

Tsk Tsk.
Not only are those snails limited on the evelutionary scale. They also can't rmeber that April fools day was more than a week away. :wink:

Bad snails. You don't do this to the Master wordsmith and get away with it.

[SuicideJade]

Originally Posted by edible_eye

why not, jade? a couple of fingers'll tickle you all the way down to your belly. talk about having a feel-good meal.

i'd rather my meal not feel me up :shock:




*beware.. jade will be posting lollipop picage soon*

[MrMaelstrom]

"Then they had some kind of emotional reaction and vomited."
That was my favourite bit: some kind of emotional reaction....I can't for the life of me figure out why...

You play with yourself, you play with your food. It's only natural that sooner or later food will play with you.

A few years back, a woman found a rat's head inside a Cadbury box of chocolates. Crunchy....

[edible_eye]

heh heh... you said, "rat's head".

[AlKilyu]

Just for edible_eye:
Virtual Bartender

She's a less creepy version of the Subserviant Chicken

[pitseleh]

Originally Posted by AlKilyu

Just for edible_eye:
Virtual Bartender

She's a less creepy version of the Subserviant Chicken

Ok, so I cheated and had a look... (spoilers ahead!)

First, I figured I'd order a bottle of Grolsch. She'd never heard of it!

Then I started to catch on... and ordered Tits. She walks up to me and jiggles her chest a little. Meh.

THEN... I type in Lips. And what happens? Another girl comes walking in, starts to put on lipgloss all seductively, and these two hot chicks proceed to have a blisteringly hot MAKE-OUT SESSION, then leave together!


WHAT THE FUCK? No beer!?

[Suiside_Kitty]

damn pitseleh... i wasn't even going to click the link....

'till i read yer post, of course.

[SuicideJade]

try
suck
shake
dance
ass
bend over
sing
play
jump
push up
pitcher

those are the ones i got to work

[AlKilyu]

try jedi.

[SuicideJade]

OMFG
try girls gone wild!

*dies laughing*

box
kung fu
tap
beer.com
run
think
talk
read

[drgnlvr]

Originally Posted by pitseleh

Ok, so I cheated and had a look... (spoilers ahead!)

First, I figured I'd order a bottle of Grolsch. She'd never heard of it!

Then I started to catch on... and ordered Tits. She walks up to me and jiggles her chest a little. Meh.

THEN... I type in Lips. And what happens? Another girl comes walking in, starts to put on lipgloss all seductively, and these two hot chicks proceed to have a blisteringly hot MAKE-OUT SESSION, then leave together!


WHAT THE FUCK? No beer!?

Ask her for 'Sex on the Beach' :lol:

[drgnlvr]

And now for my little bit of randomness:

I sent off my very first submission to a professional, -paying- market.


:shock: I can't believe I finally did it!