i keep a diary

July 19, 2004

Fishing with Pappi: Part Three

Being no-good bums with nothing else to do, Grant and I decided to meet up with my dad and then head down to my parent's beach house for a little fishing.

See also:
Fishing With Pappi: Part One (October 5, 2002)
Fishing with Pappi: Part Two (June 6, 2003)

Sunday, July 18th

Before leaving town for a few days, I had to feed my roommate's cat. Grant didn't think that Herman would like Cheetos Jumbo Puffs...
...but I knew better. (The sound of his little pointy kitty teeth repeatedly crunching into this jumbo cheese puff made me laugh so hard that tears were streaming down my face).
Me and tha Grizza waiting to be picked up at the Morristown train station.
You know how some people have the cool, "I'm your buddy" type of dad growing up? Well, mine was never like that. He was too busy whipping my delinquent ass into shape to worry about being my "buddy." But now that I'm a grown-up (sort-of) my dad can stop worrying about me going to jail (or, at least he can stop worrying about people blaming him for me going to jail) so now our relationship is much more buddy-buddy. Which means, that my dad always wants to hear dirty stories about naughty stuff that me and my friends are doing with girls. This makes me laugh my ass off...
...and makes Grant so embarrassed that I thought he was going to crawl up his own ass just to escape my father's pervy interrogation. Hahah.
We got to my parents house and found my mom in the kitchen cooking flan and showing off her sporty new ankle brace.
Dad showing off mom's delicious flan. (Make sure you say it right: "FLAHHHN")
Grant and his flan.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Flan.
Me and my dad were getting nothing. A few minutes later, Grant got another hit and after a several minute long struggle, managed to pull this monster aboard. Here's a better angle...
I love it!
After dinner, Grant and I headed over to Blockbuster and stocked up on some movies for the shorehouse.
10pm, we packed up the car and drove down to my parent's summer house in Beach Haven West, NJ.

Monday, July 19th

We woke up in the morning and discovered that the fridge had nothing but a coupla Cokes in it...
...so we headed over to this itty bitty, hole in the wall roadside diner that apparently my dad's become a summertime regular at.
The place is owned by Louise Hannold. She's like 80-something years old (just in case the quote at the top of the menu didn't tip you off. Huh?) and still mans the grill cooking every single (kick-ass) meal by herself.
After breakfast, I drove Grant and my dad over to his boat that had been temporarily docked at a friend's house so that his dock could be dredged.
They drove the boat back to my parent's house while I drove the car back to meet them there.
Grant's pic of the Skipper.
We docked the boat and decided to drive across the bridge to Long Beach Island a little past noon.
Grant and Pappi at the beach.
Staking out our spot.
You love my beach hair!
On the way home from the beach, we stopped by the tackle shop to pick up some bait for the morning.
And Grant played with the gaff hooks. Hahaha.
Tired of watching DVDs, Grant and I decided to hop in my car and experience some South Jersey nightlife. But when neither of us felt like going to a bar, we realized that left us with only one nightlife option: NOODY BAR! Here's a pic of me making the international sign language gesture for "shaved snizz" while Grant cups an imaginary silicone-enhanced titty as he dials information to find out the exact address of Delilah's Den in Toms River (which, incidentally, Leigh told us, is where all of her former high school classmates now dance! Nice!)
Long story short, we got really, really lost somewhere in the swamps of New Jersey and by the time we found Delilah's Den (of tanorexic Jersey girls with crazy-ass Lee Press-on Nails that are still somehow, amazingly hot) they were getting ready to close in thirty minutes...and we couldn't justify the $10 cover (each) for only thirty minutes of snizz. (Truth be told, I was in! It was actually Grant this time who acted as the voice of reason). So instead we got our late night BK on at the 24 hour parkway rest stop.

Tuesday, July 20th

The morning, the Skipper woke Grant and I up at 6am to have some breakfast out on the back porch.
He even bought doughnuts! (Protesting the early hour, my right eye refused to open until I treated it to at least two chocolate doughnuts.)
At 6:50am we set sail!
"This fugging guy actually thinks he's gonna get a fish."
Big Skipper large and in charge at the helm.
Piloting the boat through the channels and out into the open water.
Grant charging up on coffee and showing off the "pipes" he says will be used to "haul in large fish."
Listening to his "Rocky" mix in order to get psyched up.
Desolate Jersey coastline.
Pappi getting ready to drop anchor...
...aided by his new cheater's fish-finding sonar.
The first cast.
Lefty-me fishing upside down.
Grant felt his line dip, but by the time he got his reel on, whatever he'd felt had eaten his bait fish right off the hook.
Scoreboard. Grant: 1. Big Bri and Little Bri: 0.
Despite our copious application of this product, and despite the fact that we were a 1/4 from land, about a half an hour after anchoring, a swarm of greenhead flies found us and suddenly fishing wasn't so fun. For any of you not familiar with south Jersey's greenheads, here's a little primer courtesy the Rutgers University library:

"The salt marsh greenhead fly, Tabanus nigrovittatus, is an abundant and bothersome summertime pest along our coastal marshes. Because the females bite during daylight, and because they occur in large numbers, have a long flight range, and attack persistently, they interfere with the enjoyment of coastal areas throughout much of the summer. To anyone who has not visited the New Jersey coastal areas during "fly season," the impact of these flies on daytime activities is hard to imagine. We have collected in traps over 1000 greenhead flies per hour all seeking a blood meal."
A blood meal, indeed. Captain Pappi shows off a greenhead bite right before we decided to...
...pull up anchor and get the fuck outta dodge.
Big Bri seeking bug-less waters.
Me reflecting on the fact that the last few times I've been fishing, I haven't caught jack shit.
My dad picked a new spot and moments after casting, I got a hit on my line. After a quick fight, I brought up a nice sized...
...skate.
Which we promptly threw back. Swim away!
Grant's luck was taking a turn for the worse. Not only hadn't he gotten any bites, we also managed to spill the entire container of bait and had to collect tons of writhing, squirmy fish off the deck.
But no sooner had he gotten a freshly baited line back in the water, when BLAMO! Another hit.
When he saw what he'd hooked, he freaked out. He was like "Holy FUCK! It's a shark! I JUST CAUGHT A FUCKING SHARK." Then he turns to my dad and is like "So what kind of fucking shark is this? What's it called?" My dad was like "It's a dogfish." Grant's instant indignance and the utterance of the "fish" syllable was downright hilarious. "What do you mean 'fish,' that looks like a SHARK to me?" My dad explained "Well, all sharks are cartilaginous fish. So are skates and rays." I'd been laughing at Grant this entire time and when he heard this he turned to me and said "Oh, so IT IS A SHARK THEN?" My dad was like "Yeah, it's a shark. A shark with no teeth called a dogfish that's in the same family as the OCEAN SUNFISH." Hahahaha.
Grant was like "Both of you shut up and take a picture of me with MY SHARK."
After I took the above picture, my dad unhooked Grant's shark for him ("Just because you said it doesn't have teeth doesn't mean I'm taking any chances with that thing!") and threw it back in the water. Grant re-baited his hook and put it back in the water only to get another hit seconds later. When he reeled his line up, look what we found. This guy looks surprisingly similar to me...
...but Grant wasn't having any of that. Here is is posing in front of his "SECOND shark" of the day. Hahaha.
Hahaha.
An uneventul thirty minutes later, we decided to pack up the rods (and I decided to take a swim).
Grant stayed on board to take photos. ("Swimming? What are you, crazy? There are SHARKS in this water, remember?")
Grant listening to the Rocky theme again on the way back in.
Final Scoreboard:
Grant: One striper, one baby-fish, and TWO SHARKS.
Brian: One skate.
Capt. Pappi: ZILCH!
After washing down the boat and quick snack, my dad drove Grant and I over to the train station so we could head back to NYC.
On the train we spotted a dead ringer for (my high school buddy) Tim Farley. Then I fell asleep...
...and later discovered that while I was out Grant used my camera to take pictures of himself pretending to fingerfuck my mouth. Hahaha.
Later that night I went out in the neighborhood to celebrate Caryn Ganz's birthday (seen here trying to use Rob Sheffield as a photo sheild).
And then later on I met up with Amy Albano (Roxbury High School in the house, y'all!) and we headed over to wish...
...Meghan Wicker a happy birthday!
Then late, late night, I met up with Leigh and Sarah and...
...ate pizza with Eve. Thanks for taking us fishing, dad! The end.