Archive for the Bullshit shit Category

Fight the light

Posted in Bullshit shit, Fish Shit, shit with tags , , , , , , on March 13, 2012 by heavymetalspey

The extra hour of daylight has been a gift from above. It is impossible for me to outrun my work in the morning, so the fact that I have time to run from work and at least make it to the lake is nice. Today, the 13th of march, as I worked the double Spey, crackheads swam and Mosquitos flew. 48 degrees. The year is off to one hell of a start.

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The wretch

Posted in Booze Shit, Bullshit shit, hey bud, go fuck yourself., Music Shit, shooooot on January 21, 2012 by heavymetalspey

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Real American fucking doom. By far this is the band’s best and most prolific album to date. Filled with songs made for crashing horses and swords to. One night this winter, I poured myself what was planned to be a single whiskey and set into motion a chain of events that were a direct result of this album’s immense stature. Listen with caution….

Colder than a hookers heart

Posted in Bullshit shit on January 19, 2012 by heavymetalspey

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It’s on

Posted in Fish Shit, hey bud, go fuck yourself., jose cansecofish, shit the bed in fear on October 19, 2011 by heavymetalspey

Designed to throw lead lines and roosters a country fucking mile.

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The new hotness marinated in awesomeness

Posted in Bullshit shit, Fish Shit, hey bud, go fuck yourself., shit on September 12, 2011 by heavymetalspey

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Shits mine, bucko.

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holy god… christmas is here

Posted in hey bud, go fuck yourself., Music Shit, shit, shit the bed in fear on December 21, 2010 by heavymetalspey

Birthday day

Posted in Bullshit shit, Fish Shit on September 30, 2010 by heavymetalspey

Spent the morning watching the sunrise on the local river. Super magical. I had my headphones in and while I blasted double speys I blasted judas priest’s painkiller album. Which is hands down, one of the greatest heavy metal albums of all time. Sure my casts were as straight as rob halford and I didn’t hook up with any “British steel” but it was a good day. Birthday parties looming, family obligations and a onslaught of back pains- all got sent out to the quiet seam on the far side of the river. 3/4 through the tailout as I mended line while standing in water up to my guts, I felt something brush against my side. This “thing” I knew was very alive. I, in a startled panic (“startled” is a man’s word for “fucking terrified”) looked over while at the same time grabbing at this obviously bloodthirsty creature of unknown origin- rabies infested river otter? Perhaps a starving Aquatic mountain lion? Not quite. Instead it was 30 pounds of English fury. The goddamn pointer puppy had swam out to the middle of the river to check on me. Thanks, Hank- won’t forget that one. After that I took it as a sign to move. Along the trail I ran into a couple of hygienically and socially challenged fellas from parts unknown. After two minutes of their racially charged ignorance they inquired what the smaller salmon were in the river. I calmly informed them they were a species smaller than the king salmon- known in educated circles as “prince salmon” and that if they were to have any luck, they had to donate to a local conservation group and ask for “tips and tricks from the pros”. That will get ’em started.