Fishing

Don't laugh but I went to a fishing and tackle store on Saturday. And no it wasn't of my own accord as you might guess.


Chris has a small lake outside his back door over at his other house by school and he's been borrowing his roomies fishing pole. And as you might remember me telling you, I met him in a fly fishing store. As-in he was a professional guide for a number of years. Pros have to have the right gear don't cha know. Even if you only are catching little catfish out your back door in a man-made lake and tossing them back.

He got me suckered in with a comparision to shoes and a bag matching or something fashion related. Got it. Let's go. So we did. 15 min into it I got antsy and trying to humor myself began taking pictures of sparkily fish kinda like this.


they're all very facinating. These rubbery,sparkily pretend fish. I dream of having 400 of them and glueing them to a skirt so that the little rubbery things dance all over as I walk down the isle of the grocery, or maybe this saturday to the movies. But after my red carpet moment faded in the lovely tackle store [next to the sports bar I might add]. I began posting them to facebook along with a humorous note that read "I feel like dudes do when their chicks force them to the mall. Honey, are you still looking at plastic fish? Really?"

and my lovely brother who has a similar quiet, wicked sense of humor responded. "Hell yeah, still looking at plastic fishy, then hooks with fuzzy stuff tied to them, then some long sticks (aka fishing poles)"

Fair enough, next stop though the shoe department at Macy's.