Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit

The sort of secret blog of Beans, a.k.a. Jules, a.k.a. "Legs for Miles" a.k.a. "Rackie the Boob Queen." Fine, ok, not the last two. Starting July 2006, sometimes "Mike," aka "fagadoccio," is a co-poster on the blog. The co-poster child, really.

Friday, August 04, 2006

Am I an Appalachian Dirtbag?

While Mike hunts for salad in his house (He lives at the Atlantic Center Pathmark, a.k.a. "Doodie Aisles"), fish continue stupidly biting the metal lures I tug across the water. I've simply never seen a summer so successful in Pike fishing. I caughta beauty two days ago, and last night again, right after a huge rain fall, when the sea was covered in mist and moonlight.

BUT I'M NOT POSTING ANY PICTURES. Why? Because I've realized that people who take and display trophy photos of their kill are psychos, trashy psychos.

Honestly. How many dead deer does one mustachiod molester really need?

HAHA! These deer killed us! Just kidding, we killed them and then posed their dead bodies hilariously!

I'm done hunting for today. Can I go watch Mulan now, if I wash the blood off my arms first?

Well I said "honey, we did a Loire Valley wine tour last year just the two of us, let's do something with the whole family this year," so Shawn and Jerome Junior both jumped at this whole Cote D'Iviore safari thing, and we just had a blast. Little Trebor still wakes up in the middle of the night screaming and of course Jeff is still peeing blood, but it was a blast!! It was so neat!


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