Typical Tuesday? Not so much. It was part of this wacky "team building" thing with work. Let me say that I am not a fan of guns. Despite my dad's many, MANY attempts to bestow a gun upon me pretty much every birthday/Christmas from the time I was 18 years old, I have managed to remain gun-free, and intend to keep it that way. I am a Texan, however, so I have shot a gun before. It was in high school while I was going out with a guy who liked to shoot targets, skeet, deer, javelina, wild turkeys, doves, ducks, and pretty much anything else that was considered "huntable." He took me to his family's ranch, and we shot Coke cans, milk jugs and skeet. I remember thinking it was fun, but also thinking (with a sense of relief), "Okay. That's that. I never have to/want to shoot a gun again." So imagine my surprise when I enjoyed the hell out of firing all those shots into my paper target. There's something very cool about holding that much power in your hands and being in control of it. I can almost understand the "sport" behind shooting. Almost.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Mama with a gun.
Tuesday morning I went to the shooting range and unloaded a couple of boxes of ammo using a revolver and a Ruger. Typical Tuesday? Not so much. It was part of this wacky "team building" thing with work. Let me say that I am not a fan of guns. Despite my dad's many, MANY attempts to bestow a gun upon me pretty much every birthday/Christmas from the time I was 18 years old, I have managed to remain gun-free, and intend to keep it that way. I am a Texan, however, so I have shot a gun before. It was in high school while I was going out with a guy who liked to shoot targets, skeet, deer, javelina, wild turkeys, doves, ducks, and pretty much anything else that was considered "huntable." He took me to his family's ranch, and we shot Coke cans, milk jugs and skeet. I remember thinking it was fun, but also thinking (with a sense of relief), "Okay. That's that. I never have to/want to shoot a gun again." So imagine my surprise when I enjoyed the hell out of firing all those shots into my paper target. There's something very cool about holding that much power in your hands and being in control of it. I can almost understand the "sport" behind shooting. Almost.
Typical Tuesday? Not so much. It was part of this wacky "team building" thing with work. Let me say that I am not a fan of guns. Despite my dad's many, MANY attempts to bestow a gun upon me pretty much every birthday/Christmas from the time I was 18 years old, I have managed to remain gun-free, and intend to keep it that way. I am a Texan, however, so I have shot a gun before. It was in high school while I was going out with a guy who liked to shoot targets, skeet, deer, javelina, wild turkeys, doves, ducks, and pretty much anything else that was considered "huntable." He took me to his family's ranch, and we shot Coke cans, milk jugs and skeet. I remember thinking it was fun, but also thinking (with a sense of relief), "Okay. That's that. I never have to/want to shoot a gun again." So imagine my surprise when I enjoyed the hell out of firing all those shots into my paper target. There's something very cool about holding that much power in your hands and being in control of it. I can almost understand the "sport" behind shooting. Almost.
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3 comments:
When I lived in New Orleans, my worthless ex-husband decided that I NEEDED a gun. (I can't even type that without rolling my eyes). He bought me a five shot 38 special. As far as guns go, it was cute. I am a pretty good shot, but everytime he took me to the shooting range, I would cry.
I finally figured out that I wasn't really capable of shooting a real live person.
I shot a frog once with a bb gun when I was 6 and it still haunts me.
I am, however, a crack shot and have proved my skillz at killing coke cans many times.
Until I get the shakes, that is, then I stop. Guns freak me out.
Well, my daddy not only gave me a Walter PPK for Christmas one year, I got hollow point bullets and a bottle of Crown. Dude, I was 20!
Have I ever told you 'bout the time he took me dove hunting? I walked home without him in blubbering tears. Damn you, Bambi!
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