Guess I'm culturally deficient, I've never seen the RH show but I do like musicals, i.e. 42nd Street, South Pacific, Chicago, Smokey Joe's Cafe.
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Guess I'm culturally deficient, I've never seen the RH show but I do like musicals, i.e. 42nd Street, South Pacific, Chicago, Smokey Joe's Cafe.
I would say it's not that type of musical... LOL.... But it was a thing kids in the late 70's through the 80's did. In the big city anyhow... And it wasn't a (i don't know how to put it with getting in trouble) RuPaul thing... We used to get a lot of chicks at these things... Good timesQuote:
Originally Posted by majflyboy
Member, Tri State Crappie Anglers
Went every Friday night.:biggrin
Not knocking it. Guess I moved into Geezerdom at an early age, but "getting lots of chicks" never grew old to me.Quote:
Originally Posted by Gator_1
AHHHHHHHHHHHH guys yall tellin off on your age, they dont call em [chicks] any more.:biggrin
Day will always be CHICKS!!!!!!!!!
my wife just calls them off limits
Personally, I don't think you missed chit with the RH thing!!!Quote:
Originally Posted by majflyboy
Big River Marine
Bill Burnett
870-635-0202
Member-- Tri-State Crappie Anglers
Pro Staff-- Southern Pro Tackle, Meatgetter Jigs, Minner Critters, Ozark Rods, and Crappieholic Apparel.
Now this is a story I have to share with you fellers. One day my ole dog Tater and I done planned us a fishing trip on the Tenn-Tom. Now ole Tater he ain’t much fer hunting and sech but he’s one jam up good crappie dog. Now I know that don’t carry weight most places but Tater can smell out slab crappie like ole Obama can tell lies. Well about 3 am that morning we load up in my ole pick em up truck and head west. We stop at the local Waffle house and get Tater his usual pancakes & sausage and head on out to Pratts landing and you know that rascal would not share nary crumb with me. We get’s to the landing about 4:30 and ole Tater he backs me in the water and parks da truck. He takes his place on the bow of the boat, where he navigates from. When his tail starts wagging I know that’s where the big slabs are. Well we’ve been running about 45 minutes and I get’s to wondering cause ole Tater ain’t never took this long to spot a good feeshing hole before. I slow down and asks him why we going so far today. He just looks at me with those sad eyes and turns back around like I was dummy for asking him such a foolish question.. I say to myself, self, he never been wrong before so here we go into new fishing territory.
Finally after nuder 20 minutes that tail starts to wagging. I shut the motor down and get on the trolling motor. I say alright tater get me on dem slabs. Well weez got us a kind of signal, when he barks once I know to feesh rat dare. If he barks twice just keep going. Well sho nuff one barks comes, finally. By this time it’s just breaking daylight and I can just make out the shape of trees. I grabs my trusty ole cane pole and slip one uv them dough belly minners on there getting ready. I see ole tater looking off to the right but can’t spot zactly whar the top is to drop that dough belly minner. About that time tater he stands up on his hind legs and starts making all kinda crazy sounds like he don lost his mind. I say tater, you don gone crazy dog and then it hits me, the most god awful smell I have every smelt in my life. Tater he done lep over my head to da back of the boat and he ain’t neber don dat befo for sho. As I was turning to see what he was up to I noticed from the corner of my eye dis big harry looking thang about 5 foots away with his arms opened wide leaning out over the water. I said oh my it’s one of dem dare sasquath thingy’s I done heard about. Bout dat time it let out a big ole squeal. I look and tater done jumped in da water and swimming away, he done abandoned me and left me to fend for myself. Well the only weapons I had were a BB pistol and a beaver stick about 5 foot long. I grabbed that stick and pistol. Then dat thang done let out another squeal and I commenced to whipping dat thang with da stick and shooting him with my BB pistol. Not sure if I was doing any good but I wuz a trying to keep dat thang off me. Well bout then sumthin came at me an hit me in da head. Out da boat I went squealing like a little girl knowding I was a goner. Bout 2 or 1 minute later after I had got up on the edge of the boat it was daylight enough to see thangs. I looked and what I had thought was a big feet , saquatch thingy was actually a willer tree leaning out over the water with all da leaves beat off it. The squeal I heard wuz an ole screech owl dat had landed in another tree close by. There I was all wet, lost a good BB pistol an broke a good beaver stick to boot all because of a willer tree & whoot owl. Ole Tater, dare he was on the bank looking at me like I don lost my mind. I climb back over into da boat and go pick up Tater ofn da bank. Being it was cold I told tater we’d best go home and call it a day with no feesh. We gets da boat back on the trailer and Tater he listens to dem Village People, sumthin bout the alphabet , YMCA on the 8 track all da way home. I got to thanking about that smell and den I remember that Tater let out them bad smells every dang time he has pancakes & sausage. Now dat’s the story as I recollect!
closes thread at 5 hopefully we can get a few more story's :biggrin