The Joy of Fishing

Oh, fishing… The manly sport. Where men are at one with nature, providing for themselves and their family. Often going alone for 12-16 hours a day during fishing season, and sometimes with friends or relatives, men take this bonding opportunity with nature very seriously. Too seriously. I have never enjoyed fishing. I went many times with my father as a kid, and always failed to enjoy myself. Is there something wrong with me? What about this is supposed to be appealing?

For me, the fun of fishing was directly correlated with the quality and amount of treats in the cooler. My dad used to pack Snickers, Cokes, sandwiches, Milky Ways, etc. and the whole time I would be stoked for it. “Oh yeah, I can’t wait to sink my teeth into that Snick--- I mean, go fishing...” Truth be told, I don’t even care for seafood all that much, maybe salmon on occasion, but that’s not important. As the cooler depleted, so did my interest in fishing. Soon the temperature became too cold to bear, the rain became too hard to handle and I managed to attract mosquitoes the same way plastic wrap attracts itself.

To me, fishing has always been strikingly similar to night clubs (another activity I have never been all that fond of). They both consist of a bunch of guys that smell strongly (of fishing tackle or cologne) in a less than ideal atmosphere (cold and rain or unbearably loud music) striving for hard to obtain objects (fish or women) with their poles (the size of which isn’t important, fish). The men sometimes are fishing to keep (note: clubs are an awful place for this), but most are fishing to catch and release. This pisses most of the fish off, who tease the fishermen’s bobbers relentlessly by giving it a few tugs and then swimming off. Most fish talk to their fish friends in fish bathrooms about how much the fisherman spent on the bait, and how they have no interest in catching a ride on a cheap lure. Step up your games fishermen! You have to get up pretty early to fool those fish (another similarity between fish and women). You need shiny tackle, smelly bait and a gigantic pole to catch the big fish. A huge pole. Plus, you have to have a remote location, otherwise your line my snag with another man’s line. If you’re too close, sometimes you can “cross swords.” You don’t want that. Trust me. How can this be fun?

The biggest turn off from fishing though, is the fact that there are no guarantees. Nothing says you will get a fish. That is horrible. To me, the only thing that is worse than standing in the freezing cold rain while thigh deep in the river for 12 hours with nothing but a fish to show for it is having absolutely nothing to show for it. Some might say “But you get memories…” Stop right there. That may be true on occasion, but how often do you foresee yourself turning to your dad, son or best friend and saying “Hey, remember that time we were fishing---“ and then they cut you off as if they know right where you are going to finish the thought and finish it with “and we didn’t catch anything?! Oh, I totally remember that! Yeah, that was awesome!” At least with clubbing you have the off chance of this happening because you can at least watch your friends get rejected and laugh about it later, or sometimes your friend Jerry just gets hammered and yells “Titties!” intermittently throughout the night when prompted by a loud siren noise. This happens more often than I care to admit. At any rate, I started writing this with every intention of convincing you that fishing isn’t as fun as people make it out to be, but now I just think women are fishy. 

Saran Wrap

Today, I was outsmarted by a roll of saran wrap. This is true. For the umpteenth time in my life I failed miserably at effectively wrapping things messily in a ball of plastic garbage. I managed to have every sheet I tore off stick so rapidly to itself that it was as if it missed the rest of the roll so much that it wanted to make sure I was going to further separate it. “No, little saran wrap, I am just going to wrap you around this muffin now, but you’re making it exceedingly difficult for me.” After this brief pep talk, the saran wrap decided to lose all clinginess qualities. It doesn’t want to stick to the muffin, and it is done clinging to itself. I also regularly struggle when it comes to rolling up a bag of chips, but that’s a different story. 

This is where life has taken me. I fail at such small things. I manage to aggravate my friends over dumb things, I couldn’t piece together and eat a healthy meal if my life depended on it, and I am still not even sure what I want to be when I grow up. Life’s little problems here and there are not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. Is it a big deal if the plastic wrap sticks to itself? No, probably not. However, I can temporarily resolve the situation and move on with my life. But I have also come to find that when the plastic wrap sticking to itself is a headline story in my everyday life, it’s time to fix it. 

What does this mean for me? I think maybe it means that it’s time to figure out how in the hell to cut the saran wrap with that crappy dull edge they have pre-built into the box. Maybe it is time to make adjustments even if it means you might slice my thumb open (yes, I did this today). Maybe it’s time to identify issues and solve them, this way I don’t struggle with saran wrap for longer than I have to. Besides, it’s embarrassing. Plus, chicks don’t dig guys who can’t saran wrap a Costco muffin. 

So, I have made some executively half-assed decisions regarding my saran wrap. I have decided to be more willing to take risks if the integrity of the muffin inside of the wrap can be better maintained. I have also decided that the muffin is more loved by all if is properly taken care of and remains fresh. I have decided that sometimes muffins should write more pointless stories in Facebook notes. And I have decided that no matter how tempting some of the muffins might be, the poppy seed and the blueberry never disappoint so make sure they are always involved.

My life has now taken a step forward. My stagnant lifestyle can now be likened to my ineptness with plastic kitchen wrap. High fives, all around!

Black Friday

About this time a year ago, I sat bored at work. I somehow managed to stumble across a Best Buy Black Friday essay writing contest and ten minutes and 250 words later, I submitted an essay that was farfetched to say the least. I thought it would just cause whoever had to read it to laugh and move on to their next essay. I also knew I was going to visit San Francisco during the time that I would have to be present to win, so I applied for that Best Buy's contest when asked where I would be just in case I won. 

So after I had forgotten about it completely, and about three or four days before I was going to visit Becky in SF, I got an email indicating I was a "Finalist." Not having any clue what the hell a "Finalist" was, I emailed her to see if I won, or if I was in some drawing for the winning or something. She told me I won as long as I was 18 or older and not working for Best Buy. Done and done. I don't think I ever posted it, so I figured I might as well now. For those wondering, I won a limo ride for 4 (even though there were only two of us because I don't know people in SF other than Becky), a mini video camera, a bunch of miscellaneous stuff like chairs, duffle bags, scarves, food, fleece jackets, head bands, movies... oh, and a $1,000 gift card. Yeah. That happened. So, without further ado, here is the essay that for some reason someone determined to be worth a total of $2,000 in prizes.

"My absolute favorite time of the year is the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Black Friday is like a Christmas Season Kick-Off Party with no limits. I think my favorite part of the Holiday (if you can call it that) is my Grandmother. Nana has always been a bargain hunter, but toward recent years she doesn't have the energy or health to shop the way she used to. Black Friday, however, doesn't count. This woman could be on her death bed and yet has no problems scrapping with even the burliest of men to get the deals she's looking for. Only on Black Friday will you see this woman go from rolling in a wheelchair to pushing a shopping cart, from oxygen tank to fisticuffs and from sweet and innocent to downright mean and dirty. It is every year on this day that I realize that Nana isn’t in poor health year round, she is simply resting for 364 days (365 on a leap year) so she can come out in full force on one day a year. So this year, when I see her get slightly peppy on Thanksgiving and filling up on turkey, I will know this is really just her pre game meal. So let this serve as your warning. Shoppers Beware: Feisty Nana on the Loose, Shop at Your Own Risk."

Outside, they pampered me for what should have been an hour, but was only 10 minutes, but I didn't mind. I was getting all kinds of crap. I chugged a Red Bull and then went on a shopping rampage.

Life, as Roy Knows It

I have spent the last 12 years or so rejecting both reading and writing. I've always seemed to avoid the easy route. Or maybe it avoids me. Yeah, it would have been nice to enjoy literacy when I was forced, but for some reason, I just chose not to... Or school made me hate it. That's still in deliberation. It wasn't until recently that I looked back and realized I actually like writing and reading. I am a man of many words. I can't seem to tell even a simple story in less than 500 words and I'm pretty certain people prefer to read them rather than just sit there and listen to me talk. So as of late, I have decided to start writing more. Writing about anything, so long as it doesn't bore me (and in turn, doesn't bore you).

I began to write and publish notes on Facebook, because, well, that was the only audience I could find. I figured if I have people that actually want to read what I write, maybe I will be more determined or feel more compelled to write. It's been four months or so, and I would say (aside from lack of subjects) "so far, so good!" So now, I have decided I am going to start a blog. Where will it go? Probably nowhere, as most of my ventures, interest and thoughts vanish to. What do I want to accomplish? Well... I figured that's a good thing to set up. Goals! And here they are:

I want comments. Positive and negative.

I want questions.

I want topic suggestions.

I want to write at least one thing a month but will shoot for two.

I want to get better at something I enjoy doing.

I want suggestions.

I want to have fun.

I want readers. Tell your friends and let me know what they think.

I think that's it. Only a few of which I have full control over, so help me.

I am going to post my old Facebook notes, and that is where I will begin. So, here goes nothing.