Unrest At Bannock House

Hello Everyone ~

Welcome to the premiere of Unrest At Bannock House.

This is a home movie we shot using our new FlipVideo Ultra HD. (Thanks to Pa, Ma, and Bob!) It takes great video in the daylight, but the dark scenes - eh, not so great.

We shot the thing in about 2 hours one night. San ran the camera and edited, I method-acted and scored it, Stella secured the financial investors and Ossi destroyed the buffet table.

The Academy of Motion Pictures showed a lot of interest in this fascinating movie. But, we told them, "We're artists, man! Awards don't mean squat!"

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The following is based on actual fictional events ~




Be sure and watch in Full Screen!!!

YouTube Linkage

Houston and the Renewal

San and I visited Houston November 11th through the 16th. Our journey began at DIA and the TSA check-in was the most pleasant experience to date: we walked right up to the agent, who was a happy chatty woman and preceded right through! Unbelievable, really.

On the train, I decided to take video as an opening to what one day may be an edited family video. But, after a few minutes of footage, I was informed by a police officer, that this was a federal offense. He was literally two feet from us and stood there while I taped, so it was a little odd - maybe he realized we weren't Bin Laden supporters and just let it happen; or, maybe, he was texting his girlfriend and didn't realize to begin with. Who knows?

So, the flight was fine, as well - the lorazepam helping to numb the senses.

When we arrived at Hobby we visited the Papa's Burgers to say hello to the kids, Stephanie and Wes. And, while we did, enjoyed some adult beverages.

Lupita arrived to pick us up and we went back to the house to drop off our bags. Then, we went over to the 'rents and ate mole. Que sabrosa.

On Thursday, we spent the day with Eddy and Lupita; and we pulled Faith out of school, too. Education is for losers. We went down to Kemah, TX. We ate some tasty vittles at Salt Grass.

On Friday, we visited the Houston Museum of Fine Arts. The old masterpieces done with oil still amaze the hell out of me. I wonder, how come no one has done a George Bush oil painting with him standing in the Iraqi desert while angels and demons hover around? Or Barrack Obama standing in a hospital corridor with angels and demons hovering around? Those cherubs are creepy!

So, let's see...so much happened...

You know what? Just watch this video ~

Fishing the Willams Fork and the Graveyard...

During the first weekeend of October, I was granted privileges to go fishing with the Dupre Brothers. We decided to fish the Williams Fork up past Kremmling in the morning. Then, in the afternoon, we would head over to the Blue and fish above the reservoir.

The plan was to meet Blair at the parking lot outside of Kremmling. Well, that didn't exactly work out. Mike and I went through Kremmling, past what we thought may be the "parking lot" and decided to pull off the road and wait for Blair to pass us. We waited about 15 minutes, then decided to backtrack and look at another pullout of sorts. No luck. Cell phone coverage is spotty around Kremmling and Mike's calls all went directly to Blair's voicemail. "He probably drove off Trough Road," Mike commented. So here's a definition of Kremmling, if you've never been: the gas station had on the checkout counter bumper stickers that read - "How's That Obama Thing Workin' Out For Ya'?" Hicks! - Gotta love 'em!

Anyway, we headed over to a parking lot that was before Kremmling, essentially. No luck! So, we decided to head toward Parshall, where the turn-off was for the hike-in trail. Lo and behold, we got the call from Blair! We, again, pulled off the side of the road. About 5 minutes later, Blair pulled up behind us.

Come to find out, when we drove by the lower parking lot at 7:45, Blair was waiting there, since 7. When we finally went to that parking lot in question, he had just left. So, essentially, we crossed paths, but never once saw each other! Oy vey!

I now know Kremmling like the back of my hand - which is not a good thing.

The hike into the Williams Fork was about a mile. It was cold, so I had worn long-johns, and layered up. I would pay for this on the hike out. We finally arrived at the Willams Fork at about 9am. We walked up upon a nice slow pool of water where numerous trout boiled all over the surface. We quickly geared up and quickly had no luck. We worked our way upstream and came to find that the private property that denies fishing is only about a 1/2 mile from where we hiked into.

As we continued to get skunked, the river became more crowded. One dude we came across worked his way up to the pool we had started at, and he landed three nice trout. Upon his way back down stream, he crossed over to where we stood and showed us his rig. He was using a Hopper-Dropper rig, double-dropper to be exact. He had some tiny red-pheasant tails on there. Well, I tried this rig - similar, at least - and still no luck. In fact, having that much shit on my rod was just plain annoying. Mike D tried too, no luck.

Here's Mike's comment ~



Only Blair and that "one dude" were able to catch a fish.

Funny story here, though. As I was walking downstream with my rod, rod case, backpack and hiking boots in my hand, I payed too much attention to Mike and Blair casting and I stepped directly into an undercut on the riverbank and all my shit went flying! Seriously, I landed right on my face. One boot launched itself high into the air and directly in to the flowing waters! Blair and Mike began to laugh, until I screamed, "MY BOOT!" And Blair quickly jumped in the river and rescued it. I owe him one.

So, we decided we'd had enough of the Willams Fork and began the hike out. This is the time I began to pour sweat due the fact that I layered my clothing. I do believe that I lost 4 pounds on the hike out.

The spot on the Blue we arrived at is affectionately called (by Mike, anyway) "The Graveyard!" Because there is a graveyard there. Creepy.

But, the fish sure weren't dead! Mike D and I finally landed a trout! And Blair caught another. And all on a dry fly! Take that you Williams Fork Stuck-Up Trout Bitches!

Here, the Blue has beautiful crystal clear water. The trout were rising at patient intervals. It was wonderful. Finally, we had all landed a trout or two - time for cigars. Ahhh...fishing!

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Four Lorazepams and a Wedding

San and I went to St. Louis September 24th through the 27th to attend Missy Behrn's wedding to Cody Harpst. Mom and Bob came along, too; as did Jessica and the kids, who arrived Friday.

Now, let me tell you why I hate absolutely everything about the airport! We checked-in online the night before and, god-help-me, I knew I should have rushed home and printed our boarding passes that night, but I didn't. So, we had no luck trying to print our boarding pass at the airport kiosk. It could not find our information at all. Also, the first Frontier airlines cabrona we tried to get help from was nothing if not mas puta! So, we stood there as my blood pressure rose. Well, finally we got some help and what a pleasure that was (insert sarcasm). But, I suppose if I was stuck behind a counter, on my feet all day, dealing with stupid people like me, I would be a total asshole, too.

Next, we went to the security line to deal with the omnipotent TSA staff. This is like going to the dentist, only worse - it's like going to a dentist who had to repeat Senior year. We didn't have to take the train because we were in Terminal A. So we come up to the long line for the TSA Checkpoint. Here we are - 75 people in line wating our turn. And then I see a group of people going around to the "unknown-of" line to the left (see freehand pic below, click to enlarge). Who the fuck are these people that cannot follow simple fucking rules? Seriously. Do they think we've got it all wrong in the one line? What the fuck is in their minds that goes, "Well, why don't I just walk over to that area where there's no line? Those people there must be imbeciles!" Fuckers. At the very least, the TSA guard let them get all the way to the top of the ramp before he pointed out their stupidity. Man, you should've seen the look of disappoinment on their faces. Of course, I had to laugh out loud at them coming back down. This upset San and I was in the dog house.

Now my favorite part of the day so far - I couldn't make it successfully through the metal detector the first time.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!!! (Blood pressure rising)
"Do you have any metal plates in your body, sir?" The TSA tool asked.
"No, perhaps it's my wallet. Can you hold this?"
"No, sir, it needs to go through the x-ray device."
"Okay." I said after I returned.
"Come through, sir."
BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!! (Blood beginning to boil)
The TSA tool ran the wand over me.
"Looks like it's your belt, sir."
"Oh, that's odd!" Let it be known, I have worn the same belt 10 times through the metal detector, and now, all of a sudden it's setting the alarm off! What happened?! Did a fucking terrorist try to blow up an airplane in the name of Allah using an aluminum plated leather belt buckle? "Well, can you hold on this?"
"No, sir, it needs to go through the x-ray device."
Ugghhh!!!! No more BEEP! Okay, so, now I'm finally through that!

14 people missed their flights because of my belt buckle.

So, San is upset with me. My blood pressure is through the roof. And now I have to fly! Yay! I love being 35,000 feet above the ground in a metal cigar case. "It's safer than driving!" I get so sick of hearing that. When the fuck are they going to invent the matter transporter?

So, I sat down by myself while San, Ma and Bob went to Quizno's. I calmed down. Then, I quickly put 2 Lorazepam under my tongue. Well, I shit you not, as those pills dissolved, so did all my cares in the world. I went to the bar to get a beer.

There were several of us milling about waiting to be served. When the bartender approached I deferred him to a lady who I noticed there before me. When he returned he asked what I would like and I told him, "A Fat Tire." I went to get my wallet. He informed me that the lady had bought it for me! Ahh, my day was really looking up!

So, needless to say, the flight was a breeze. Smooth sailing. In fact, I can't recall a single fucking thing about the flight. And I was awake the whole time!

Upon arrival in St. Louis, we took the shuttle to rent a minivan. Then we checked in to the Viking hotel. We unwound a little bit and then headed over to Aunt Jeannie's and Uncle Wally's house. We stopped at the Schnuks along the way to get some beer and wine. We went to the self-checkout line. And, wouldn't you know it?! Some stupida pinche cabrona cut in front of us when the next station opened up! Even the check-out kid noticed and attempted to speak to the self-centered woman, to no avail. Well, thank the lord the lorazepam was still kickin' around a little. All I said was, "Mas puta!" under my breath and left it at that. Fuckin' people. Seriously.

So, we made it to the Balden's. I ate about five handfuls too many of the appetizers; when the lasagna was ready, I nearly exploded. Wally showed up around 9:30 after a commute back from Chicago. Michael was supposed to be coming by for dinner as well. But, luckily he called right in time - 10pm - to inform us he would not be making it!  It was good to see everyone again.

Friday morning, San and I slept in. I'm certain I reserved a room with 1 Queen bed, but we were given a room with 2 full's. This actually was quite pleasing. We both had room to stretch out. We have now decided that our next bedroom will be set-up the same way. I mean, why not?

So, we missed breakfast with Ma and Bob. We decided to eat downtown; Bob wanted to go see a rock and roll walk of fame he had seen on a map at the airport. So, we loaded up in the ole minivan and headed east.

The area we went to is called the Loop. We ate at a place called Blueberry Hill. This place had pictures of some guy (we later found out it was Joe Edwards) with everyone from Alan Greenspan to Slash to Chrissie Hynde. And it had pretty good burgers, to boot. Anyway, it was a pleasant afternoon. We went to the very ornate Fox Theatre downtown as well.

And that was about that. Jessica and the kids were due in around 3:30, but their flight was late. So it was deciced that San and I would be dropped back off at the Viking to get ready and ride with Michael to the wedding.

So, the wedding ceremony was held at Jefferson Barracks, in a lovely spot under tall Cyrpress trees. Jessica and the kids along with Ma and Bob arrived just in time. The Harpst couple was joined together in their bare feet. Cody was quick to say, "I do!" before the minister was done with the vows. There was a fantastic rendition of Etta James At Last. And, all in all, it was wonderful - I shed a tear (due to allergies).

Then, San and I were formally introduced to Cody by Missy and it went something like this -
Missy said, "Cody this is Chris and his wife San."
Cody said, "You're the guy who hates Phish."
I can thank Uncle Bill for this misinformation!
When, in actuality, it's this guy who hates Phish.

The reception was held at Shrewsbury Civic Center. Open bar, great food and a performance by Papa Smiley and the Brain Bananas (which is not a Death Metal band from Sweden).

Saturday was a cloudy day that brought heavy rain in the morning. We all stood in line for 35 minutes at the local Denny's across from the hotel. Sadie, Queen of the Claw Game, won Max a dog-baseball-hybrid stuffed toy. He appreciated this very much for a minute, then quickly didn't appreciate it at all. Kids! We ate. Then, it was decided to get the kids some swimsuits, so we could lounge at the pool until heading over to Bill and Mary Beth's for an afternoon BBQ. Ahhh...the pool.

I had not been to the Behrns' residence since Grandpa's funeral, and that was only briefly. The place looked great. A lot of work being done in the backyard, because, apparently, the neighbor is a tool.

We ate pizza, shot-the-shit and watched the Rockies host the Cardinals. The best part (besides being with family, of course!) was annoying Wally with comments about the game of baseball. The third best part was the beer. The really best part, was celebrating Ma's birthday! She turned 39.

Sunday morning, Dad picked up me and Jess and the kids. We went to Greg's house and had a delicious breakfast of eggs, sausage and biscuits and gravy. I performed an acoustic rendition of Gnarls Barkley's Crazy to an enraptured audience of Cindy, Jim, Tammy, Greg and Dad. Tears formed in their eyes, I tells ya!

Then, Greg took us to the airport. Jess and the kids left. I drank some overpriced Budweisers and waited for San, Ma and Bob to arrive.

Then, I ate two more Lorazepam's and we all flew home. . .

Thanks to Jessica for posting all the pics HERE in timely manner.

The Fish-tastic Catch-gasm of Release-ists

This weekend, we headed up to the Dupre Cabin to meet Mike D and Hanna for a weekend of relaxation. We left Friday night and, after a stop at the new Jimmy John's for sub sandwiches, hit the road around 5:30. San agreed to drive - so, I now owe her $1000 over the course of 500 years. This little fact helped to make my weekend that much more enjoyable. Thanks babe!

So, we arrived around 8pm. We unloaded a case of beer...and other stuff - like who cares? Then we all stood outside because it was rumored that the space station could be seen in the northwestern sky at 8:26. But, unfortunately, the Native Americans built the mountains far too tall, so we were screwed. But, ahhh...to see the stars again!

Around 11, when San had fallen asleep, Mike D and I went to the garage to shoot some darts. For those of you unaware - Mike's record against me in darts is 145-1. Well, shit on a log, at about 1:30am, I finally got my groove back! After years of fucking groovelessness, I was in the zone! So, the All-Time Record now stands at 149-5. But, it took until 3am and 7 beers to establish said record. So, at 9am the next morning I was, how you say, hurtin' ?

After a cup of coffee and aspirin, Mike and I geared-up and walked to Chalk Creek behind the cabin. I decided to use a nymph and promptly went to Hole #2. Here I have always had luck catching a brown trout. But, Hole #2 is guarded by an overhanging pine branch, so casting to it is nothing but a challenge. Well, I lost my whole rig - nymph, strike indicator and a foot of leader - in about five casts, as a tree behind me caught my line. So, I decided to move to a dry fly - a Goddard caddis. Well, I had a couple strikes, but nothing landed. I worked my way down the creek and, attempting to cast to Hole #8, I snagged again on a tree branch. Well, now most of my leader was gone, I had lost my tippet somewhere (later found in my wader leg) and I was feeling down (well, as down as one can get while fishing!). So, I had to tie on a huge stimulator pattern, because the leader wouldn't fit through any smaller pattern.

Meanwhile, San read a book...

I caught up with Mike about 10 minutes later. Thank the lord! He had another leader!

I asked, "Any luck?"

He promptly replied, "Eight!"
"No way? How?"
"On an elk hair caddis." He stated.
"Well, shit. I've got some of those."
Mike headed down the creek. I replaced my leader, put on a black-bodied elk hair caddis and worked my way up the creek.

Meanwhile, San watched HGTV...

Before you could say supercalifragilisticfuckin-A, I had hooked a trout! With overwhelming pride, I can say that I caught, at least, 10 trout as I worked my way back up to Hole #1. Now, I'm not saying they were all gi-normous beasts whose very teeth would rip the flesh from the back of a whale! But, they all put up a fight not unlike Mike Tyson on bad acid. The only reason I didn't catch more was because the clouds rolled in, hanging over Mount Princeton peak like a soft veil, and the thunder and lightning preceded the rain by mere minutes.

That night, Mike D made some bad-ass-baby-back-ribs. I mean, seriously-great ribs. Just thinking of them makes me want to go out to a farmer's field slaughter a nice fat pig and cooks its ribs. Seriously.

The rain continued throughout the night.

The next morning, the sun was back out, shining like a smile. Mike and Hanna had made pancakes and bacon. Delicious. I tried to help clean-up, but San would have none of it. She said something to the effect of, "Oh no, honey! I wouldn't think of it. You work so hard for me and Stella and Ossi. You just take a load off. Go fish some more! You deserve it! You the most wonderful person in the world!" So, I did as told.

Hanna decided that she would join the men for some sport. Mike got her geared-up and all of us headed back to the creek. We decided to go all the way down creek and work our way up from Hole #10. I wasn't having too much luck to begin with, but before you could say chim-chimmeny-chim-chim-chooroo, I had landed the first trout of the day. I worked upstream - catching trout all the way.

Some time later, Mike and Hanna came up behind me - scaring the hell out of me! Mike said Hanna was done and we was going to take her back. I stopped at a long-forgotten picnic bench and smoked the last half a Cohiba mini. I buried the end of it under a rock, and stared at the glassy surface.

Meanwhile, San read a book...

Mike soon returned. "Want a beer?" Heaven.

We worked our way back upstream to Hole #1.

"Have you been up past this?" Mike asked.
"I did a while ago. I think it gets narrower and rockier. But, I don't really remember."
"When do you have to get back?" He asked.
"I dunno. Two? I don't know when San wants to get on the road."
"Well, should we go up a little?"
"Yeah." I agreed.

We hiked up the bank and came back around to the creek. It was different up here - more boulders and pocket water. But, this is where I caught the best trout of the weekend - a 14 inch Rainbow.

And Mike? Well, he went, how you say, ape shit? He was catching trout like a man possessed! It was very nearly literally every fucking cast with at least a strike! Amazing!

At 2 o'clock we headed back.

• 
  
  Fish caught = 50*
• 
  
  Fish released = 50
• 
  
  Fish killed = 0

*All numbers are approximate.

Meanwhile, San surfed the web... **
 **San now admits that she never set foot outside the cabin since our attempt to watch the Space Station.

All photos can be found HERE!

The Price of Copper and Pica Verga

This last weekend started off well enough - in the morning, I played tennis with Jessica; in the afternoon, I bottled the homebrew; and, in the evening, drank a couple PBR's while San and I watched the new George Lopez stand-up special - que chistoso!

Sunday sucked. I noticed, after doing some Rosetta Stone lecciones, that the copper pit fireplace was knocked over in the backyard - or so I thought. Looking out the back door I assumed that Ossi had spazzed out with his favorite toy or chased a bee and knocked the pit over; but upon further investigation, I saw that the copper pit was missing. The wrought-iron stand was there, the steel grate was there and the mesh cover was there, too. Then I saw that the shower curtain metal C-ring that I use to secure the latch on the gate was missing. Also, the cinderblock that covered a small crack in the fence picket had been moved away. So, someone, probably a dickhead, broke into our yard between 8 pm and 9 am and stole the copper pit!

So, I had to call the police and file a report. The officer came by and made sure that I was not hated by any of the neighbors. He said that the report would go out to the local copper recycle places - yeah, those guys are surely on the lookout to return stolen copper that sustains their business! "Uh oh, looks like another copper fire pit. Better check the police reports to see if this was reported. Oh, oops, it fell into the smelter! Darn it!" Fuckers.

Anyway, I had to make some stuffed jalapenos for Max's birthday party that afternoon. This is a great appetizer that Pofahl's wife, Carrie, introduced us to. You take a jalapeno, slice it down the middle, remove the seeds, stuff it with cheese, wrap it in bacon and then cook it on the grill or in the oven. So, I set about doing the aforementioned tasks. In the middle of this process, I needed to go to the bathroom, because the coffee I'd had in the morning was now urine yearning to be released. So, I took a piss without thinking about anything (except what New York looked like before the City was built upon the land - see the NatGeo cover). Then, I went back to cleaning seeds out of the jalapenos. Next thing I know, my dick is on fire! Very nearly literally! San saw me in pain, and all she could say as she giggled was, "You sure have been moody, you son-of-a-bitch, who I love very dearly." So, with my wang afire, I quickly googled "stop jalapeno burn" and found an article saying that dairy products contain caisen which combats the capsaicin contained in hot peppers. So, I just as quickly poured some milk into a condiment dish, went to the restroom and immersed my johnson. Ahhh....the relief.