Now, if I was one of them thar rightwinging teabaggers, I might just go all
postal and start shooting shit up.
Or lick some balls or something.
First, I deal with a girl/woman who thinks that uniformity is cool, that all turtles should look alike, that once they are handpainted onto foam and then painted again onto the first lam glass for depth, that I should be able to change them.
Even though she approved of them thar tortugas.
Then, whilst we plan to meet in Florence, she can't.
For a bit of time.
Now, I will build you a board without a deposit if it isn't some far out space ship looking thing.
But if you want a certain color a certain way and some turtles... I am going to ask for 100.00 towards the board. Seems she missed that part.
So there it sits, 8'4" of the perfect point break/all around/cool retro single fin, custom built.
And there it is going to sit.
This is why I shape what I ride, that way, at least its in my quiver for a bit.
Now, I shaped her out a Michael Peterson templated single fin, its a retro with updated rails and a thumb-ier tail. Griffin tuck rails. Single to spiral V.
17" by 22.5 by 16" by 3".
Dome deck last third.
Now, she doesn't know she got all of that, nope. She only knows she got some purple and some turtles.
If she gets it.
I already had a problem making a board that will sit so much.
As we all know, I have trying to get out of here on a southern type trip for ten days now. First delay was me, I wanted to build boards instead in the peace and quiet of an empty house as the wife was gone.
Then, the weather where I was headed went to shit.
But Mr. Cranberry mentions the other night that he is free for a week to ten days.
So we plan it.
He canceled Wednesday but put it on for Saturday.
Needs time with his girl.
His girlfriend is hot.
Like mad 'hot'.
So I am in the basement, sanding away, setting up two new templates, life is good, I leave tomorrow, I am packed, ain't even looking at the surf today, tomorrow is on to Shelter and then on to SC for the south swell that hits Thursday...
And I get a text...
"Can't go, girlfriend has me tied to the..."
Well, this is a family blog so I won't go into details.
(Insert string of really bad words screamed in frustration here)
Once again, I am packed and really have no where I want to go now.
Why? Its a cursed trip, I will get eaten by a shark or something.
Shoreline Crips will set up shop in Redway and I would be done for.
I have to sit and think for a while.
To wish I was somewhere warm.
So I am unpacking my gear.
Though my wife wants me to GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE HOUSE AND GO SURFING.
You know how I know?
She gave me gas money.
(I spent it on hookers and beer)
This trip was important to me because I wanted to set the stage to rid myself of the most fucked up thing I have ever done (and thats counting my time in El Salvador).
A tobacco habit.
I smoke and I do not want to.
for 12 years, puffin'.
I hate it.
Fucking hate it.
But quitting is hard, for me, its been nigh impossible. But I have a plan and that plan requires me to spend a lot of time in the woods or on a nice right point somewhere.
Chain myself to a tree.
And Mr. Cranberry is a big guy and I told him, any time I light up on the trip, hit me.
And I was being truthful.
Oh I know, I will quit soon enough and that relying on others to do the hard work (though I think he likes hitting people) is wrong, blah blah.
Anyway, there is my little rant, I am laughing as I type this so don't think all is so fucking woe cuz it ain't.
I have some Alaskan Thunderfuck that will tell me different any time I flick my Bic.
And Mr. Cranberry? I am going to zip tie your leash to Spikes' next time I see you in the water!
(again, all of this is a silly rant, my life is good, don't get upset, don't rejoice quite yet, don't rush off and email all of your OSP buddies and saying that old Dawg has gone off the deep end, I may not know where Kiwanda is but I can certainly spell it...)