I don't mind if you call me lazy. I'm a potato wherever I am: on the couch, in the La-Z-Boy, or on the bank. Bank Potato* should have been my OFF user name (and I wish I'd thought of it earlier). I embrace my inertia!
If I can get a rod in my hands that casts with me instead of fighting against me, I don't care how whippy it is, who makes it or what it's made from. As long as it's not neon pink and covered in UV glitter - I have to hold on to some standards.
You did your best to warn me that fuzzy-hook fishing is addictive but I didn't listen. Now I'm running around searching for my next fly fix, my gear-flinging friends pretend they don't know me, and I'm wearing a T-Shirt that reads "Jesus loves you brother! Can you spare an Elk Wing?"
When you're that bad off and the rod ain't working, you get desperate; but you and the hitman have sobered me up, pulled me out of the DT's, and I'm feeling much better, now.
When I've proven that it was the rod and not the idiot holding it, a fine, fast action rod might be something I'll look into. Maybe. And until then, look at all the pennies I've saved and all the new flies I can buy. Lots of flies. Lots and lots. Ya-hoo!
Don't worry that you might have said something that left my Fruit of the Loom's in a bunch. Not many in OFF would call me shy...
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