Sling Shit

Admittedly, I don't have a wholelotta patience. I want what I want, and I want it now. Sorta like the song. It's probably a problem. Surfing, however, has taught me to wait. For waves. For the wind to die down. For the sun to show up. For all sorts of stuff. But for whatever reason, I couldn't seem to sit still this Sunday. We'd spent the better part of the day prior shooting empty beer cans with a couple of sling-shots Bricky had in the back of his truck. I then proceeded to drink ALL of the sangria Karissa had made on Friday, leaving me, well, more inebriated than most. It was windy, though, so I wasn't missing much. Tried to hug the campfire a couple of times. Shameful.

I woke up around nine the next morning - a miracle - made a cup of coffee and tried to shake the inevitable hangover. The wind had shifted from the southwest to the northwest, making a mess out of what waves there were. I tried to be patient, to wait for the wind to die down, but the backside of my head hurt so damn bad I couldn't sit still. Everyone else was willing to wait. We should have. Instead, we packed our shit and hit the road, stopping at Granny's Cafe for a hamburger on the way home. I've had worse weekends. Follow the link for a few more photos.

Danger Zone.

Hunter Gatherer.

Not Impressed.

Chain Gang.

The Coola.

Purple Haze.


Angel Aim.

Pink Passion.

Silly Shit.

Can Do.



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