The Telltale Signs of Spring, Gloucester-style

There are few more welcomed moments in life than the realization that spring has finally and unequivocally announced its arrival in our immediate geographic area. We are heartyish Northerners, of course, who grit our teeth through five months of crapbag weather in order to smugly and annoyingly over-enjoy the other seven. But even though the past few days have reverted back to cold, dreary, desolate hellscapes of weather, we know we’re slowly, steadily marching towards nice weather. And damn, it feels good.

It’s not always the cheerful sun and the lack of immediate frostbite that herald the arrival of spring, however. Not in Gloucester. There are other, equally wonderful clues to which we are accustomed. Like the following:

– Potholes. Sweet Potato Chip Jesus, are we ever in pothole season. I keep expecting to see meerkats popping up out of them, they are so plentiful and deep, like they are part of an underground network by which children can run to Ed’s mini mart for candy without ever reaching street level. This is why I never tailgate – I mean firstly because I’m not an asshole, but secondly so that I can see the potholes coming. These motherfuckers will tear out your damn drivetrain. You have 4WD? Not anymore you don’t, also your drive shaft is dragging along Prospect St, you may wanna get that checked out. My favorite variation of pothole is the one stuffed full of cigarette butts and McDonalds wrappers.

dailymail

Yeah, but there was half a Destino’s sub down there, at least.

 

– The Detritus Emerges. Here comes the shit we’ve buried deep in our hearts and snowbanks. With the Great Thaw of the last few weeks, our glaciers have receded and the crud is coming to light. Just walking around yesterday, I bore witness to a veritable cavalcade of treasure. I saw a condom, a pair of black underwear, one solitary leather glove, 6 nip bottles, and Pete Rose. This, this is why we can’t dump snow in the ocean. A literal fucking couch appeared out of a snowbank on my street recently. AN ENTIRE COUCH. If we don’t find a cadaver somewhere in this city under some oversized snowbank, I’ll be surprised. If this was the winter I needed to dump a body, I’d be in luck.

Seriously what happened here?

Seriously what happened here?

 

– There is Life Outside. Earlier in the week, Joey C over at Good Morning Gloucester posted the requisite sign of spring on Rogers St: The return of the men who sit outside the St. Peter’s Club. Like the return of other migrating species, these gentlemen have finally completed their long, seasonal journey from… inside the St. Peter’s Club. It is recommended to leave protein sources nearby so they can regain the calories they spent hibernating, usually in the form of beer nuts.

(h/t to Marty Luster and GMG for this picture)

(h/t to Marty Luster and GMG for this picture, without which the joke would be hard to explain)

 

It’s not just the return of benchfolk, but the other signs of life outside our windows as well: children playing in the streets, knocking each other off large icy embankments, families literally screaming at each other, people working on their cars. I didn’t think there was any possible way for me to be excited to hear the guy in one of the houses next door shrieking insults at his girlfriend, but it turns out I was kind of glad that it was warm enough for them to take their personal business into the literal middle of the street.

– The Bicycles Return. I am enjoying this one in particular this spring, as most of you know I owned a bike shop for the four years previous, and the dawn of spring meant insane business, which was great, but also overwhelming, and long hours killed us. With that tomfoolery behind me, I am free to notice the beginnings of the cycling season for the heartiest of us all, without the impending sense of dread. Sure, there are the few year-round riders – mostly DUI offenders or lumbersexual hipsters – but even I, Bike Shop Owner, will wait a few weeks until I bring out my cyclocross bike, lest I accidentally end up falling into a crevasse in the paved earth like the beginning of Land of the Lost (I’ll bring back dinosaurs, I promise). They’re coming out, now, some of the braver souls – the ones in Bruins gear and single-speeds, those unconcerned by errant pieces of wet dog poo, driftwood, or finishing nails dropped by the angry weather gods.

 

Give it five years, these fuckers will be moving up from Davis Square.

Give it five years, these fuckers will be moving up from Davis Square.

 

I won’t dance around the fact that we still have a long way to go before we can bust out the cargo shorts and flip flops – there is still an entire picnic table buried in my backyard, even the very top of which has not yet been unearthed in the thaw. I still can’t park my cars correctly in my driveway, and I’m still walking in the goddamn middle of the street all the time.

But damn, it’s a start.

KT’s Wicked Tuna Recap: S4, Episode 4, “Harpoon Hellraiser”

Sweet crap, we’re back with another episode of the show no one really wants to admit isn’t that great, our very own Wicked Tuna. I’m here to recap this show so you don’t have to watch it, unless you’re into that sort of thing.

The first segment this week is pretty much “How Paul Hebert Has Sucked So Far”, including a part where another fisherman totally calls out the fact that Mr. Paul has worked on like seven boats since this show started and hasn’t caught a fish yet this season, and reference “Paul’s drama boats”. They make sure to add that he’s a good fisherman as sort of a half-assed defense. Damn, these bros are harsh, although he deserves it. Probably. I don’t know, I’m barely paying attention.

Oh crap, a brand new fucking boat. Okay, interesting. All of a sudden they drop the harpoon boat Kristiana on me. They introduce the crew, and I’m already bored to tears. Wait, wait! They have footage of a guy so determined to beat Bill “Hollywood” Muniz that he’s been practicing chucking harpoons from the roof of his garage into hay bales.

This is really what reality TV has come to.

This is really what reality TV has come to.

Over on Hollywood Bill’s boat, some talk happens. The only thing I know about this guy is that he did a talk at O’Maley about excellence and said he hated school, only wanted to fish, and all his friends from school were dead or in jail. If all the thirteen year old girls I know are snarking on you, bro, that’s not a good sign. Anyway if you didn’t know (like me), harpooning is different and they have like, a pilot scouting for tuna who has to communicate with the boat so the guy can literally climb up on scaffolding and throw a javelin at it. It’s kind of interesting, but also can’t we use drones? No? Just saying. Drones.

The Kristiana doesn’t have a spotter pilot, so they try to explain they just kind of look from the boat. “You just look for the different funny water.” Fascinating. They also mention that one guy acts like “a little kid, you want to puke and sh*t your pants because you want to go tuna fishing.” Classbag, this boat.

Over on the Kelly Ann, the owner howls, “We hired Paul for one reason” and I shout “TO BE ON TV!” but I guess the real answer was “to catch giant tuna fish!”  Everyone assures one another they are “in the zone”, and then hook a fish, but end up losing it, and everyone blames Paul, who kind of bumbles around endearingly.

Hollywoodbill and the Lily end up spearing the bejebus out of two fish, which is pretty impressive I guess? I don’t know. I don’t understand fish. I just eat them. The Kristiana

 

 

 

“We Need This Fish” Count: 1

“Reel Reel Reel” Count: 2

 

 

 

 

 

KT’s Wicked Tuna Recap: Episode 3, “Bluefin Beatdown”.

Welcome back to KT’s Wicked Tuna recap, where I tell you what’s going on in this magical show so you don’t actually spend an hour of your weekend doing so. I take donations, by the way, for this service. Mostly in booze or tranquilizer darts (whatever, I have small boys, don’t judge).

So our third hot garbage episode of the season is upon us. I believe it’s called “The One Where Mike Fucks Up”, based on the previews. Most of the first five minutes is just stock footage of Stonerboat and Tuna.com getting into several years of sad man-drama, but then they switch over to the Hot Tuna and there’s TJ, totally throwing his little brother Mike under the bus on national tv for like six additional minutes. Hot damn, we have ourselves an episode.

"Is my shirt clean enough? It's only cable TV."

“Is my shirt clean enough? It’s only cable TV.”

The Pinwheel fails to catch a fish (even though they said they really needed it), and there is whining. Tyler mumbles a series of motivational phrases, and the show’s obviously scripted lines are yelled too quickly and thoughtlessly to be anything off-the-cuff. It’s not that any of us believe these reality shows represent the truth, but there are times when this show doesn’t even try to hide the scripting. Dave’s Tuna.com catches a fish, and then whomps it with an anchor ball. Okay! Cool. Normal.

There is a little bit on Paul’s new boat, the Kelly Ann, and some kid making a delicious-looking breakfast. However, they don’t catch anything and are largely useless for the entire episode. The Hard Merchandise doesn’t even show up for this episode, though, so at least these guys got to eat delicious breakfast sandwiches.

hooray for boat sandwiches!

hooray for boat sandwiches!

The Hot Tuna has a fish on their line, but then just starts leaking power steering fluid everywhere. So basically they just put more steering fluid in, and then it slowly seeps into the ocean. That’s… safe. And good for the ocean. Thanks for that, NatGeo. The Tuna.com has another fish, who they deem “an asshole”. Well, yeah, I think that’s because he has a hook in his face. Probably. And now he’s dead and will be in my next spicy tuna roll. Hooray!

Back to the Hot Tuna, where they smartly decide to catch the leaking oil in a bucket instead of letting it seep directly into the ocean. They catch the fish on their line with the help of Mike, who has finally done something worthy of his family’s love (sweating in a small, hot room). Hooray!

Okay this has been an entirely boring episode. A few more fish get caught in incredibly boring ways, some yelling happens, karma is or is not served on Tyler, some tuna gets sold for varying amounts of money, I need another margarita, blah blah blah.

Drinks Consumed: 1.6 (zzz this stupid episode sucked)
Tuna Caught: 4
We Really Need This Fish Count: 2
Reel Reel Reel! Count: 3
Slow Motion Seagulls: 0