Having Kel on vacation with us is somewhat like being followed by paparazzi. I’m totally ok with it, she takes some amazing pictures.
Lush.
Cynic.
Lesbian.
Living in Portland in a floating house.
Meet me for beers on The Dock of the Gay.
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Thanks to Kel capturing every moment, these two pictures sum up so much of how I/we feel about fishing. All that’s missing is us screaming/squealing, and haphazardly almost pushing Kel into the river in an effort to flea the scene of the dinosaur fish being manhandled on our dock.
This wasn’t even one of the big ones.
I’m officially convinced that fishing is some serious shit…and I want NOTHING to do with it (except let an internet celebrity/some dude from Wisconsin do all the grunt work while I drink wine and squeal like a sissy baby).
