Talkin' Shit About A Pretty Sunset

Damn, I've got so much to write about but it all includes too many curse words, my non-stop farting causing social problems; watching porno with two women; an embarrassing rock-rap band whose album I bought recently; my amped-up anti-religious fervor; a bit more drinking than I'm proud of (who, me?); tepid support for the American terrorist Bill Ayers; realizing I'm not as good a sailor as I thought; the early onset of my Fall blues; the time I threw a live shark at one of my drunk friends; and tomorrow's trip to the most beautiful beach house I've ever seen.

I can't write about 90% of that crap because --- how you say --- my "readership has changed" and I can't "offend" people. Call me a pussy for not elaborating, but I'll just give the details of those last bits on the shark and this vacation home --- safe subjects.

Last year at this time, I visited the Most Amazing Beach House of My Life in Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina --- Jim's brother's beachfront house. I wrote a tad bit here about that experience. The place was populated with my hot wife, a Springsteen-loving dude named Chris, Jim, his harem of girlfriends, and a few flying Palmetto bugs who liked to crawl on my neck at night.

It was one of the best beach trips of my life, and not only because I converted a member of Jim's harem to eating meat. But my resulting pride was justified: shit, I was toothless at the time (left), but I suppose the image and smell of me standing at the stove cooking peppered bacon couldn't stop the primordial meat-lust in that vegan.

I was also determined to catch fish and shark from the beach at night during that trip. In case you don't know, that entails wading into dark crashing waves with a surf-casting rod slung on my back until I'm ribs deep, then flinging it past the breakers. Half the fun of such fishing is the thrill of going into the unknown to catch the unknown.

Last year, I only caught dogfish. The funnest part was drunkenly throwing the live foot-long dogfish shark at drunk-ass Chris sitting on the sand. Man, you've never seen a city boy squirm!

Here's the plan for this weekend to compete with last year: fish during the day for small fish like Spot or Croaker. Then, later than night (after drinks), I'll hook 'em in their scaly backs dangling at the end of some serious piano-wire leaders --- you know, so the big sharks don't bite through it.

I'll hurl that live fish out past the breakers and wait. Wait. I'll do it. I've only caught one seriously big shark from the beach my whole life and that feeling is worth trying to achieve again. Do you have any idea what that sensation is?