Things That Make You Go, 'HHHhmmmm'

I'll be the first to admit, there's some stuff that I've done shooting-wise that aren't dancing-through-the-daises safe, in both training and deployed 'festivities'.

I was joking about the forward roll thing, from the last post...

(Quite Obviously) Volk &/or Tam, I ain't.

Like I said before, rode hard & put up wet a time or two, but still...

...shoots pretty good.

Take your pick of shooty info:

a) One (1) full magazine, emptied rapid-fire (weak hand), after first leaping from a moving vehicle, executing a forward roll, dodging flaming arrows from ninjas, shooting behind the back and blindfolded. Ready for movie roles, $$$, and groupies.

b) From a distance of .5 yds, supported kneeling, 1 rd/min (approx), utilizing spotter, windflags, and jerry-rigged scope. Ready to invade internet forums with mah awesomeness.

c) Shooting from a distance of, "bout here's good" and at a medium pace. Having fun w/every shot.

Good times.

Inter-Service Moto

Schweet!

A couple of posts ago, I linked to Big Tobacco's blog, regarding a vid he did.


Motivator noticed the awesome swell of (near) double-digit traffic, and graciously sent me the embed.


I've heard that Army song a couple of times since seeing his clip, and it's made me chortle every time. Probably will too, for awhile.


Watch, then go and be snarky.

Speaking of Gifts...

Not funny.



I mean it.



Nuh-uh.



No, not even as a joke.

Bah. Hum. Bug. (part doh!)

Guess what I'm getting as an early Christmas present?




























Four new car tires!



Yaaay.

Semper Hooah.

The War on Big Tobacco: Burn Before Reading

Click play and feel the motivation wash all over ya.


Outstanding.

Bah. Hum. Bug.

A couple of years back My Love and I bought our first house. That is a number of stories in and of itself, but I'll skip forward a bit to the point of this post. What comes after purchasing a house?

You get to put stuff in it.

Now, I'm a guy [last time I checked] so, in typical guy fashion, I'm not really too big on interior decor.

Shocker, I know.

That's not to say that I don't appreciate having stuff, I really do. Lemme put it this way; in my previous - [insert marriage-mandatory descriptions of; cold, lonely, miserable, solitary existence, without the benefit of the guiding light of my life, without whom I would continue to be a miserable excuse for a wretched human being] - bachelor life, for a short while I kept my clothes in a bag and slept on the floor of my apartment. So I appreciate having nice stuff, it's just that right now we already have stuff, it's the spending money on upgrades that I'm not exactly crazy about.

It was a battle, of sorts, and I appreciate her letting me think that I ultimately had any choice in the matter.

Said battle was on the spending of money. We'd already paid off everything but the mortgage, and had a bit of cash saved up. I was all for continuing to save, or perhaps spending it on truly worthwhile stuff like guns, ammo, big-screen tvs, fancy cigars, a bar, and perhaps a motorcycle or three. She wanted to buy nice furniture to replace the second hand stuff we'd used in our previous apartment/hovel.

So off we went, furniture shopping.

She did the research, I did the sulking and pining away for Daddy's oft-delayed toy collection, and eventually 'we' decided that 'we' had found exactly what 'we' always wanted for 'our' house and 'our' bedroom set. We walked into the local Furniture Store to pretty much get a last minute eyeball of the bedroom set and to start making the purchase.

Saleslady was good to go as far as they go, friendly and nice. My Love knew what 'we' wanted, but she had spared me on exactly what the price was. I had only just come-to after hearing the sticker price when some bastard explained to me that the number wasn't even for the whole set, just for the one fancy hoo-ya that you put a tv and blankets in. Some fancy-frenchy sounding name, and it didn't even come with a frisky-Frenchy, to ease (my) financial pain.

At the price, I thought it really should.

So we gave the lady our cash, she took down our info, and we were all set. She did kind of push hard for us to purchase the entire set (yeah, right!), but we explained to her that we'd be paying cash, not credit- no thanks, don't want to finance through the store, thanks - yeah, we understand that the set could go out of production (pleasepleaseplease, baby Jesus!) - just this one piece, for now, thanks. I didn't really begrudge her for the push, just her job, after all.

That whole process went ok. We got the delivery confirmation call a few days later, moving guys brought it in, dragged it upstairs, set it up and everything. It really does look good, and I'm sure we'll have it for the foreseeable future.

A few months later I decided to order the li'l tables you put on either side of the bed, for her birthday. I had scrounged up a bit more cash, took another long, depressed look at my various catalogues, and sulked my way back to the store. Same lady was there, and we did the dirty deed. Not as pricey as the first time, but it was still grimace-worthy.

Now, blame it on the mortars, IEDs, or what-have-you, but I hear (ha!) that the volume on my phone is a bit on the loud side. It works for me, so that the level I keep it at. I was having a grand old time tormenting My Love with false clues as to what she was going to get for her birthday one afternoon, sitting in the living room chatting, when my phone rang. Loud enough for apparently the entire neighborhood to hear, as she tells it, the lady from the furniture store yammered on about the delivery confirmation for our new bed-side tables. Mystery was kaput, after that, but she still loved the heck outta the things.


It was awhile back when I landed on the idea of what to get her for her Christmas gift. This was going to be the truly bend-right-over-and-take-it-in-the-wallet-pillaging item, so I knew that she didn't expect it at all. I had scrimped and saved like I usually do, mournfully drove right past the local gun store to the evil furniture nemesis shop of my doom. Quite surprisingly, they were again more than happy to take my money.

mumblegrumblemumble.

Well, I got the delivery-confirmation call yesterday afternoon from the store.


I was napping at the time.


Industrious lady / recent arrival to My List (and brand new top 10 member), after not getting ahold of me, looked into the store's records. Searching way back to the original purchase, she located another contact number for us.


It was My Love's cell phone number.


Bah!

Mmmm, Holiday Food

Is it too late to add this to my favorite Christmas songs list?

Great Googly Moogly!

You don't see this every day.

U.S. anti-kidnap expert kidnapped in Mexico.

Reports from the article was that the guy was down south for seminars dealing with his area of expertise. It also mentions that the area he was in was 'relatively safe' *snort*. He was taken after stepping outside a restaurant to take a phone call.

Whoops.

Is there nowhere truly safe, anymore?

Give y'all a clue. Nope.

Now of course I hope for the best when it comes to this unfortunate fellow, that he is released quickly and without harm. I couldn't help but think that if only he had access to some means of defending himself, some method of ensuring that he would be able to keep from harm should he be attacked by those who would bring him ill-will, maybe he wouldn't be in this unfortunate position...


Yes, I'm talking about dodge-ball classes from the President's personal trainer. Whoever that guy is, give him a raise.

Now, I understand that there were most likely many requirements, restrictions and considerations that the security detail were working with, but holy-hell, that's the friggin' President of the friggin' U.S. of friggin' A.! There should have been at the very least a hit that would've made any NFL defensive player weep tears of enlightenment and types like me cackle at the righteous violence. Now, I'll give 'em credit, they subdued the guy fairly quickly, as well they should have- you notice the guy's white socks? Heck, even I know that white socks are a no-no in that attire. We should have seen a few flying elbows and/or noogies, just for the socks.

Things that go boom...

In May of this past year, I attended a family reunion of my mother's side of the family. Other than size, it was fairly typical of a standard family reunion, some folks I haven't seen in awhile, some who probably wish it could have been longer between reunions, more of my cousins with kiddos of their own, etc.

My favorite part is meeting new boyfriends/girlfriends of some of my younger cousins and seeing the expression on their faces when they realize that quite a few folk weren't even able to make it. (I can usually get away with introducing myself by at least 3 or 4 different names, 'cause it's almost all going in one ear, passing behind the glazed eyes, and out the other ear.) Yeah, my grandparents had well north of a dozen kiddos, so multiply that by significant others, their children (my level), and then great-grand kids... well, it can be slightly overwhelming. Heck, I have to review the family tree sometimes just to make sure I have it straight re: who's married to who- the offspring of aunt & uncle so-and-so.

Even with the no-shows it was a pretty large gathering, so last years reunion was held at one of my uncles farm, with some staying at the main house, some in RVs, some younger kids in the barn I think, and others in crappy, overpriced little hotels in the neighboring town (guess where I stayed).


Lots o' space on my Uncle's farm.

Plenty of uncles who hunt, recreationaly shoot, and collect guns n' stuff.

Yup, didn't take long for a shooting range to be set up down the way.


Of course, once the shooting started my ears sorta perked up and swiveled around and I lost interest in BBQ & conversation, causing My Love to laugh. She cautioned me not to spend too much time shooting with my uncles and cousins...

So the first day of shooting was pretty much handguns and a few shotguns, nothing too wild, just whatever some of the guys had in their trucks, RVs, or laying around the farm. The second day, well, that was special.

Early the second morning some of the uncles broke out their hunting rifles, project guns, antique guns, how-the-heck-does-this-thing-still-shoot guns, reloads, dare-ya-to-shoot-this guns, gizmos to measure bullet speeds, and (my favorite), old stories. My grandfather showed off and let us shoot a few pistols and rifles that he brought back from WWII and some that he had collected throughout the years. Most of my uncles had seen and shot these weapons many times before, but I was like a kid in a friggin' candy store [drool]. Grandfather asked me if we had been able to keep personally owned 'emergency pistols' over in Iraq, and seemed kind of disturbed when I told him that we were most definitely NOT allowed to do so. After I told him about the many, many, many shakedowns that we underwent to prevent anyone bringing anything back he grunted and told me how when they were sailing back the only restrictions on bringing back weapons was that they not be loaded. Some of his buddies had bags o' guns...

Gah!

Other than the 'story guns', one of the pistols that I particularly liked was this old CZ-85. It looked like it was older than I am from apparently serving a bit of time as a truck gun, resulting in plenty of wear and tear to the finish. The slide stop and safety lever were thumbed silver from repeated use and contrasted nicely with the rest of the gun. The grips were wood, faded and dirty, complimenting the overall dirty/dusty color of the rest of the gun. The right side of the rear sight was the only one that had all its paint left, and it was pretty faded.


It shot like a champ.


This was surely due to the fact that I'm a natural born pistol-yoda, but the fact that it's still a good gun on the inside might've had something to do with it, I suppose.


Later on in the festivities, I was talking to Mom about family plans, people, and whatnot,when she asked me about the shooting. She told me that she had heard that Baby Sis and Little Brother had also fired off a few rounds and even managed not to shoot any eyes out. I told her that they did pretty good, we all had a great time, and I had been smitten with this little 9m that I had shot. I was already contemplating getting ahold of one to use for personal plinking and to offer a bit of variety to my humble collection when it came to going to the range with new and/or tentative shooters.

She took note of which of my Uncles it belonged to.

Fortunately for me, he had been considering finding it a new home, someone who'd take care of it and give it some TLC. He felt kind of bad at some of the treatment it had undergone, and was happy to send it off to a new home.

Score!



Sorry all (&/or Jay), I seem to be having some camera issues (no pics for you!), but in the vein of personal shooty goodness, there's some stuff I kinda like over here.