If you are feeling lonely, and in need of attention from members of the opposite sex, I have a suggestion:
The Gun Club!
Last night the boys and I went off for a bit of shooting at the local shotgun range. It's a sort of place where there are lots of pickup trucks and lots of testosterone.
Lots of Republicans.
Lots of gravel.
Lots of Beer.
Lots of Camo.
And also lots of guns.
But I have not handled a firearm in nigh on 15 years. And, I had never shot a shotgun, only rifles.
Today, I was sporting an alarming bruise on my upper arm. People kept asking what had happened to me. I impressed men with my explanation that I'd been kissed by a 12 gauge. Guys totally dig that. I told this to the camo wearing man at the guitar store today, and he immediately whipped out pictures of his hunting dog. Yeah, Baby!
The reason I was at the shooting range, was that I took my kids to practice for hunting season. M' is going to get me some duck, and some dove, and I want some pheasant, too. And an Elk, but that's a different kind of gun.
The truth is that I had no intention of firing a weapon last night. But the nice men were so insistent, and they offered to coach me. So I picked up this heavy, noisy thing and proceeded to BANG! at clay pigeons. I am certain I looked the dumb blond out there, asking what to do with this great big gun-thingy.
I hit nothing. Repeatedly.
Then, some kind man offered to let me use his really pretty Browning. It had these beads on the barrel which allowed me to aim. Not colorful beads, mind you. Just these bumps that I had to line up. And suddenly, I was hitting everything I aimed at. It was fun! I was being appreciated by men for my firearm-prowess!
I don't really think that the nice men were appreciating my gun savvy at all. It was a fantastical delusion. They were mostly wearing cowboy boots, and they chewed tobacco, and they were all 50+ and married...........Which just goes to show how there are some things I shouldn't blog about.
The boys got a ton of practice, I had a new experience, and we were outdoors in Idaho.
5 comments:
Wow.
"Wal, sure little lady. Here let me stand behind you. Now we but this back part here - no here, let me help you. (thinks: wow nice hair!) Ok, now you have to look right along that long tube thingy. No get your face closer, here, like this... (um, nice perfume) Now just press on the trigger when you are ready. Wow! great shot! I think you hit solid air there! (wonder is she has a pickup truck.......)"
For shame! You probably brought on half a dozen heart attacks later that night! You have to be gentle around 50 year old men...
We are fragile.
My Dear Mr Kris,
a 50-something unmarried man who notices nice hair and sweet smelling perfume is entirely different from a 50-something man who wears cowboy boots, chews tobacco, and is married.
Which one are you ;)
No Kelly, they notice those things, too!
Dad
Definately love my cowboy boots, though I hardly wear them as it then makes me look like a tourist.....
Your father is correct - fifty somethings are not dead! Whew! Just checked my pulse to make sure!
Like the pictures I put up yesterday?
kjp
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