We're not supposed to walk upright, part 1

As you may have gathered from the occassional comment thrown in, I have a screwed up back. Not your "ooh, ow, I need some Doan's and a heating pad" bad. A "fuck, I've already had surgery and things are going to hurt the rest of my life" bad.

I have had many minor back injuries over the years. I've had your garden variety muscle pulls, wrenchings, and tweaks with the worse having been a severely pinched nerve that occurred while fishing one day about 8 years ago.

That one had me literally unable to get up off the floor for more than just a moment. I had hurt it sometime during a day that ended up being the best day that I had ever witnessed while fishing (16,000 lbs for one day) up to that point. I didn't feel any initial pain at first. It was once I went home, showered and relaxed for the afternoon that it started to act up.

It quickly progressed from a nagging ache to a "holy shit, something is really wrong."

Unfortunately, we were supposed to do a turn-around trip and head right back out that night to try and get a few more of the fish that we had just left the day before. Being the total badass motherfucker that I am (ok, I cry and write poetry...but its poetry about guns, dammit!) , I tried to tough it out. But when the captain showed up and saw me curled up in the fetal position on the wheelhouse floor unable to get up to untie the boat, he wisely advised me to go to the hospital.

After my "buddy" (I use that term loosely) Billy half carried me into the emergency room, I happily walked back out a couple of hours later with a diagnosis of a pinched nerve and a fist full of prescriptions. I ended up missing the next trip, but I didn't care thanks to the percoset and flexeril. Boy, that was a good combination.... for pain relief. Of course.

Anyways, I thought that was some serious back pain. Little did I know how good I had it then.

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3 years ago this past May, we had to take a month off because of various regulations ( yeah, thanks hippies).

Now, I was the sole provider of 5 people, so I couldn't afford to take a month off (but I'm sure that those Volvo driving "conservationalists" had plenty of money, the bastards).

Seeing as how nobody was going fishing, my options were severely limited. So, after I had talked it over with my boss, I decided to "strip" some nets for some extra money that month.

"Stripping nets" is basically taking the nets that are torn up, stripping off the remaining twine, retying some knots, and just basically getting them ready to be "re-hung."

I think that it was while I was trying to get some of these nets off the boat for stripping that I injured my back.

Two things contributed to my injury. One was that our boat was tied up as the third boat out away from the pier and the second was that it was low tide. And we don't have any of those wussy tides like most of you do. Ours is always between 12 and 15 feet.

Anways, I had to somehow get those 20 nets that needed stripping from the back deck of the boat into my truck.

The path consisted of heaving the nets onto the overhead (7 feet), then carrying and tossing them over two different boats while trying not to fall in between them and dying (about 30 feet while trying not to trip), then chucking them up onto the pier (over 5 feet and up 5 feet) and finally loading them into the back of my truck. Total distance = too friggin' far.

With each net weighing between 75 and 100 lbs, it kinda sucked.

It was while tossing one of the last nets the last part of the way onto the pier, that I missed and it dropped into the water.

I was now officially fucked.

Quickly scrambling to grab the net fromwashing away downriver, I realized a few things.... I now had a net that weighed at least 100 pounds, inside a bag that was now full of water, in a river that was about 15 feet below the pier. Good times.

After some considerable grunting and groaning and dropping it back into the river once, I hauled it up onto the pier. I saved the $300 net, but I think at one point a vertebrae flew out of my mouth.

I had to lay perfectly still on the pier for about 10 minutes before I could stand upright. That was my first clue that things weren't well. (there's that keen grasp of the obvious kicking in again)

To make a long story somewhat shorter, every day that passed, the pain just grew worse and worse.

My first trip to my regular doctor resulted in a "just a pulled muscle" diagnosis. I told them that it wasn't a muscle pull, that it was definitely something worse. She responded with "take some Advil and you'll be fine."

I limped out of there knowing that she was wrong. But hey, they're the smart doctors. What do I know?

A couple of weeks later, I couldn't take it anymore and went to the doctor(s) that had performed my carpal tunnel surgery on both wrists a year earlier. He immediately knew that something was wrong and referred me to a spine specialist in the area who also happened to have been my anesthestiologist for my wrist surgery. It was 6 degrees of The Cod God.

Anyways, I got in to see him pretty quick and he immediately sent me for an MRI....

Now, I am not a petite man but I am also not a heifer by any means. Having said that, I don't know how some of the larger members of our society fit into that machine. I had to scrunch up my shoulders into my body as tight as I could and they still rubbed the edges on the way in. Not only that, but I had literally 2-3 inches of clearance from my face to the top of the tube. (imagine if I looked like Adrien Brody?) They must have to grease up fat pigs like Oprah and Rosie to get their elephant- asses in there. Either that or dangle a donut down at the other end of the tube. Either way, that's not a very nice thing for me to say and more importantly, I'm digressing....

When I showed back up with the MRI a few days later, he glanced at it and immediately said "Oh... wow."

Words that instill confidence, eh?

"You have a severely ruptured disc" he followed. "It's actually broken into pieces." Oh joy.

to be continued........

I'm not quite dead yet!

Due to some family issues, I haven't had the time or energy to bang something out.

Deal with it.

- Cod

Boring, Part 2

We started small, just seeing what a smokebomb or two would do to a mailbox. Unfortunately, it didn't satiate the never ending voices in my head that scream for death, destruction and mayhem nonstop. Slowly driving me crazy day by inevitably leading me to SMASH IN MY FOREHEAD WITH A BALL-PEEN HAMMER!!... but it was ok anyways.

Realizing that these things weren't quite causing widespread panic in the streets like we had hoped, it was decided that there was a desperate need for a radical change in our grand scheme to control the world with 20 smokebombs on a Wednesday afternoon.

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Derek's house was right across the street from the stretch of beach that the south side of the bridge was built on. The end of the bridge itself was built on a man-made sand dune that was about 30 feet in height. Hiking from the beach to the bridge, while it required going up a steep hill, provided us with some much needed cover for our next plan of attack.

One of us (I'm not naming names but his initials are Derek) convinced me, with a vicious twist of my arm, that throwing the smokebombs at cars would be a great idea.

Of course it would be!

It wouldn't exactly be throwing, per say. It was more like "lobbing" them over the rail into oncoming traffic. Much fun would ensue. Of course we didn't think about that it could have caused an accident or something, what 14yr olds would?

We had actually used this same strategy earlier on for lobbing eggs onto oncoming cars, to rave reviews. But that's another story...

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We had already established some ground rules that we had learned the hard way with the eggs...

First, always pick a car from the traffic going ON to the bridge and definitely the first in a line of at least 3 vehicles. That is so they can't slam on the brakes and back up, thus making us run like schoolgirls our mommy.

Most importantly, NEVER hit a pickup truck. They are more likely to have some pissed off guy looking to go the extra mile just to kick some little punk's ass to teach him a lesson.

(if I could only use my powers for good, not evil)

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Well, we snuck up into place, picked out a car, struck the match and... nothing. The friggin' wind from another car had put out the match.

Ok, here comes the next car.

Get ready.

Light it!

Go! Throw it!!

(I watch as the smokebomb sails not only over the car, but over both lanes of the bridge and onto the beach on the other side)

Nice throw, Marino... now we have to let the smoke clear and try again in a few minutes.

(a few minutes later)

Ok, here comes the next car. Don't fuck it up this time.

Get ready.

Light it.

Go! Throw it... easy!

(the smokebomb is lobbed beautifully over the rail.... hits the passenger side of the car perfectly, the driver never notices.... and immediately bounces back over the rail and into Derek's lap)

Of course, in his lap was the paper bag full of the remaining smokebombs.

Now, being experienced in the pyrotechnic field, I felt it important to immediately offer up my advice on which emergency plan-of-action that he should use in this particular instance.

I calmly explained to Derek that removing the now- flaming smokebomb from the paperbag containing the others might just be the best option in this instance, but I'm not sure that he heard me.

Afterall, I was saying it over my shoulder from 100 yards away as I sprinted towards safety.

Later, while watching the smoke of the 20 smokebombs start to clear from the crisp, autumn air...I noticed a figure stumbling about in the darkness.

It seemed to me to be some sort of monster. One that quite possibly was on fire, to boot.

After it disappeared back into the darkness, I went back to my Bruins game that I was now enjoying on TV.

Then... I hear a noise from outside.

I think to myself, is it the monster? Is it the driver of the car? That wasn't offsides, dammit!!

Then, Derek stumbles into the house, looking dazed and confused with a smoke trail fully in tow. When he moved around, he actually looked a bit like one of those mosquito-fogging trucks that our town uses.

After getting him to snap out of it between goals, I asked him to explain what had happened....

He said that some of the smokebombs were in the pocket of his sweatshirt and in all the commotion the lit one ended up there as well. He said that he couldn't get it out of his shirt and he was rolling all over the beach trying to get the sand to put them out. After getting me to stop laughing, he asked where I was while all that was happening. Where was his best friend in his time of need?

Without missing a beat, I assured him that I was right there with him trying to help out as he danced around with flames and smoke shooting out of his shirt. (afterall, he couldn't see me because of the smoke, right?)

He then gave me a dirty look and headed for the bathroom to presumably put out any embers that might flare up again. I never saw him again for the rest of the night except for the occassional glow walking by as he got up for a glass of water.

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From then on, he didn't adhere to my advice anymore when it came to blowing up shit. I don't know why.

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It's boring here in NH

Winters have always been a time of intense boredom around these parts. Yes, we have more than our share of things to do in the summer. But, as I suspect that it is in all seasonal communities, after the tourists go home everyting comes to a screeching halt.

No more women from strange lands looking to show a local boy just how great their town is.

No more watching jackasses see who can fluff up their chest the most after about 18 beers a piece.

No more people spending money like a drunken sailor. Hey, wait a minute! I think that I just figured out why I'm so broke all the time. Hmmm.....

Anyways, such is the time that one must amuse himself (not that way, there is always time for that). You have already read about my foray into the aeronautics industry. That is just one example of the hijinks that tend to accompany myself when there is nothing to do.

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My friend Derek used to live right on the beach (from what I hear, he's back there again). His house was located on the one small strip of sand that is still Hampton, even though it was on the Seabrook side of the Hampton River Bridge.

It was there that I spent many an exciting evening, inevitably followed up by one boring morning after another.

One day while walking back over the bridge towards Derek's house, we stopped at a convenience store that was located right before the bridge.

We used to go in there and beg the twin brother's who owned it to sell us beer. Usually with no luck, but occassionally they would want to go fishing for free, so we would work out a trade that was perfect for us. We would sneak them on the boat at zero cost to us and they would throw us a case or two for the effort. It worked out well for everyone. Well, until the time that ....nah, that'll have to wait for now.

Back to the story...

When we walked in, my eye immediately caught something that hadn't been in the store before...

Smoke Bombs!!

No, with me being the pyro that I am, this was like waving a steak in front of a hungry dog.

We immediately bought every one that they had in stock with visions of anarchy dancing in our twisted little heads.

Of course, we didn't get three feet outside the store before I had to light one up. I had to make sure that they weren't the little gay ones that hardly put out any smoke and would last only 30 seconds. Thankfully, my purchase was rewarded with a thick, quite colorful, long-lasting plume of acrid smoke.

I couldn't have been more excited.

Afterall, this was at a time when you couldn't buy fireworks on a regular basis anymore. This was the next best thing.

Now we were armed.....

(to be continued)

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Home, crap home

Well, we're back.

Yippee.

Back to the world of overdue bills, doctor appointments and other such things.

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The weekend was one giant whirlwind of....(hmmm, what's the best way to describe this?)..... activity.

Then we came home.

That's it.

- Cod

Day 2 (and a half)

I tried to write last night, but apparently blogspot was doing some maintenance or some shit.

If there are any typos, it's because I didn't proof read it. I don't want to be sitting here any longer than I have to.

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Yesterday began with Pocket Cod and I deciding to hop in the canoe and strike out for distant waters. Actually, we just rowed up the shoreline a bit, but it's the furthest that I have been from land in some time. It's not quite hauling gear out on the hague line in February, but it'll have to do for now.

We did pretty well just trolling along, catching 5 more smallies and half a dozen or so rockbass. It wasn't all that long ago that I didn't even know what a rockbass was. When I was a kid, we'd catch nothing but smallmouth bass, salmon and trout here. Now, the rockbass have infested the lake so bad that they hold a tournament every year to get rid of them. Whoever disposes of the most fish, wins. It is showing signs of working because a few years ago you couldn't even catch a regular bass.

Anyways, after a couple hours of that, we headed back to the house. Of course, the wife was waiting with something to do. The something to do was head out for ice cream and some more food.

Woohoo! We're outta control this year!

After having my overpriced, overmilked shake, we wandered around the harbor for a while. Which, if you have never been here, is quite small. The lake is around 8 miles long (if I remember correctly) and the harbor is tiny. Although, it is big enough to get a couple of ancient tour boats in. You gotta squeeze out every last tourist dollar, you know.

Upon arriving at the house, I mounted a trolling motor onto the canoe to make it easier to help the kids while we're fishing. Yup, that's the reason. It's not because I'm a lazy bastard and I didn't want to row the canoe anymore. Nope, that's not it at all.

Anyways, after a quick dinner Pocket Cod, Tre Cool and I headed out to hopefully catch a few fish before dark.

It wasn't as good as the morning, but we managed to scrape up 17 more fish. This time we added a yellow perch to the total. I haven't caught one of those in about 20 years, so I was a bit surprised. Pocket Cod also lost a big bass, the biggest I've seen thusfar, just before dark. He jumped a few times, but unfortunately threw the hook. That's too bad, I was hoping that he'd catch it. He would have remembered it forever.

When we got back, we hauled a minnow trap that I had set a bit earlier. We didn't have any minnows but we did have a hornpout (scroll down). I remember my grandmother catching those years ago with hotdogs, of al things, as bait. I haven't even heard of anyone catching one of those in a long time, so it was neat to see. The kids also got a kick out of the whiskers.

Well, that's about it. There hasn't been too much going on besides fishing. More people are showing up tonight and tomorrow, so it should be getting a bit more interesting.

- Colin

We have arrived!

Much to my surprise, we have safely arrived at beautiful Lake Sunapee in one piece.

Already, I am considering this vacation an astounding success!

I didn't cause any traffic accidents on the way up. The Cod Mobile didn't break down, which was a concern upon leaving. Not so much breaking down as having the right-front tire blow on the highway at about 75mph. You see, she's a bit on the worn side... but still somewhat functional. Quite a bit like me, actually.

Also, I didn't get carted off by "the man" (which is always a plus)... who incidentally is always trying to keep me down. You know how The Man can be...

I also didn't succumb to the voices in my head that kept telling me over and over to "ram the next Mass-hole off the road who cuts me off on Rte. 93." Man, I'm telling you... those fuckin' people... wait, you know what? Screw it. This is going to be a relaxing week even if it kills me! I'm not going to get myself all wound up by typing about those fucksticks who can't drive. If only for the reason that Uncle Big Johnson wouldn't take too kindly to a fist-sized hole in his computer monitor. He'd probably put a Size 12- sized foot in my ass. (yeah, har-har... I probably wouldn't even feel it, so funny Bface)

Speaking of Uncle BJ, he thankfully had a computer all ready to go upon arrival (I'm sure that he had it flown in just for me) so I can keep up on everything.

If I had to recall everything that happens during this week solely by memory...well, you can read The Cod God Be Sicketh entries (it starts in the May archives) to see how that works. The ole brain doesn't retain the memory quite the way that it used to. Maybe it's the massive amount of painkillers that they have me on, you think? Not that I'm complaining....

Wait, what was I talking about?

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Anyways, after unloading the Cod Mobile, Pocket Cod and I headed straight for the dock to drown a few worms.

Normally, we just catch a bunch of rockbass with the occassional (sp?) smallmouth bass thrown in. Hell, you can even catch salmon off the dock in the spring, but that doesn't help me in the middle of August, now does it?

Well, the fishing was just a bit short of being incredible for this, or any time of year... compared to what we nomrmally catch. We had roughly 30 rockbass and even managed to scare up a dozen smallmouths, the last one being about 2lbs. Now if I could get a few of those to live with....

After fishing for a while with varying combinations of the Cod-Clan, we headed up the 9-gazillion stairs to start dinner.

BBQ steak tips, Cod Gal's famous pasta salad, some portobello mushrooms on the grill and some corn on the cob was the meal for the night. It was consumed while overlooking the lake a little before dusk. If that wasn't enough, there was also a perfect breeze coming off of the water.
It's now being followed up by the Sox game on the radio.

It doesn't get much better than this.

- Cod

Finally

Barring any onforseen calamities, it looks like the Cod-clan will finally get a chance to get away for a while. And it's not just for visiting hours, this time.

We'll be heading up to the lake for a few days. Yes, the same lake where such displays of dignity such as blowing myself up with blackpowder and almost killing the neighbors with a potato happened.

With a little luck, I'll have a good post or two to post when I get back. That's assuming that I have cleared bail in time.

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Prediction....

Pocket Cod will outfish everyone.

Emmy Cod, after much argument by her, will wear nothing but her bathing suit every day.

Tre-Cool will be bored and start pouting two hours after we get there.

The Cod Gal won't leave the dock and I won't drink up there for the first time in...well, a while. Damn wimpy pancreas of mine.

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For you that really don't want to go back to work yet, here are a few from the archives that you may or may not have already read to kill some time with....

Bface's Dr. Phil test... a personal favorite.

My encounter with a Cop who likes my cock. Funny, I didn't even get a ticket that day.

Did you know that I was once a rocket scientist? NASA ain't got shit in me.

I am also an experienced pyrotechnic engineer. "Experienced" certainly doesn't mean that I know what the hell I am doing.

Here is one about where I spent my formative years. And people wonder why shrinks gave up on me.

Last, but not least....my friends the tree rats and our ongoing love affair. Mmmm, tastes like chicken. Right, Sarah?
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That ought to hold all 6 of you for a few minutes. I'll bring along the digital camera and try to post something from up there. If I don't get around to it...oh well, you'll survive.

- Come On, Dumbass

Precious cargo

Talk about locking up the family jewels.


Two weeks it was on there...amazing.

I know that the doctors have to be professional and all, but I would have been laughing my ass off...and that's a whole lotta laughin'.

Hooo boy!

I'm just passing this along....

Your Typical Blog Entry

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While cruising through a few blogs via the "next blog" button one day while bored, I realized one thing.....well, actually two. People from other countries REALLY love blogs and people in general are just plain dumb. Now, I say that with the full realization that I am a complete, and total moron and I'm cool with that. But, at least I know how to use a capital letter in the proper context. Well, Not All tHe tiMe buT 8 tiMEs out Of 10 daMmiT!

Here is an example of what I saw while perusing around.....


i woke up at and watched Seeinfeld.....that kramer is real wacky...i nhad a doctor appointment today i went and i came home...i did think about stopping at mcdonalds, but i didn't...boy my moma sur is a bitch all she do is watch oprah and springer all day long...i can't waigt until me and jenny get to go all the way..maybe after work on friday

That and/or this....

Ich habe an aufgewacht und habe Seeinfeld zugeschaut. ....that kramer ist wirklich verrückt. ..i nhad eine Doktorverabredung heute ich bin gegangen und ich bin nach Hause. ..i hat gedacht gekommen aufhaltend an an mcdonalds, aber ich didn't...boy mein moma sur ist ein Weibchen alles, das sie macht, ist Uhr oprah und springer den ganzen Tag lang. ..i kann nicht waigt, bis mich und jenny ganz gehen dürfen.. vielleicht nach der Arbeit am Freitag

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It's my keen grasp of the obvious that separates me from the pack.