Bang Bang

If you’re very quiet, you will be able to hear a man far far away, in the small town of El Campo, TX, banging his head against the wall and hating his life.

This past weekend, this poor man (his name has been left out for his sanity and protection – we’ll just call him “Tricky”) certified me, as well as several friends and family members, to carry concealed handguns. I have a funny feeling he regrets this already.

Just imagine this class of people he had to teach and who are now running around among you, armed and ready for action:

• Myself, and I have already explained to you here that I am usually armed to the teeth and usually under the assumption that I am under attack.
• My sister, who during the class, gave my mother a rainbow band-aid for a papercut, and who wants to turn her gun sideways when she uses it, like a Colombian kill shot.
• My mother, who, whenever Tricky asked questions in class about how to respond in different situations, answered every single time with “shoot him in the ass” (even to the questions not involving threats or weapons of any type), and at one point in the day threatened to shoot Tricky himself in the ass. She also joined me in sniffing spent shells during the proficiency part of the test.
• My cousin, who owns more weapons than the gun shop where we held the class, who has mastered the act of drinking like it’s a valued Renaissance art form, and is one of the most badass, toughest women I know.
• A friend of my mother’s, who has to deal with her in a professional capacity on a regular basis, and has hinted that he is carrying the gun for his own protection – from her.  After all, she's probably threatened to shoot him in the ass.
• My aforementioned sister’s boyfriend, who has to deal with my sister on a regular basis, and I fear the gun will leave concealment for use either on her or himself the next time she drags him into Sephora to go makeup shopping, or the next time she tries to explain the fine distinctions between different bras and the respective purposes they serve.
• Another friend of my mother’s, who admitted to fully unloading her gun to kill snakes on a regular basis (OK I can’t really blame her for that one).
• My aunt, who spent the day giggling and insinuating that the entire class had been set up as an assassination attempt on my uncle, while Tricky took note of the maniacal glint in her eye.
• Said uncle, who, resigned to his fate, handed his own checkbook over to Tricky to write himself a check to pay for that assassination.

A few more tame people joined us, and I fear they left just as scarred as Tricky was.

Really and truly, in all seriousness, I don’t mean to make light of a situation as serious as carrying a deadly weapon. We’re all fully aware of what we’re doing, are all very well trained in handling firearms, and behave in completely safe manners. We all passed the proficiency portion of the test with flying colors. But still. We are who we are. And it was a long, long day in the gun shop, sitting around the conference table, learning the rules for concealed handgun carrying. The dead horse that is the “is that a gun in your pocket?” joke was beaten even harder. We created every possible bizarre crime scene imaginable to ask Tricky when and if we were allowed to shoot somebody, and in what position we should place the body before the police could arrive. Bullets were creatively placed by women shooters on the male body on the proficiency targets. Somebody (not naming who) requested to shoot beer cans instead of a human-shaped target, as she’s really good at that – and upon being told no, managed to completely miss the target and hit a beer can she didn’t even know was there.

OK, that might have been me.

At the end of the day, we all passed, and we all await our licenses (all of which will feature photos taken at 8AM thus resulting in us looking like deranged maniacs who have no business carrying dental floss, let alone guns). As Tricky can attest, don’t mess with any of us – not only are we armed, but we’re all batshit crazy and ready to shoot you in the ass at the smallest provocation.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About:  Tonight's episode of "House."  I know a lot of people gave up on this show, and it gets criticized for being a lot of the same thing all of the time.  But I still love it.  I may fast-forward through some of the other characters, but I adore Hugh Laurie, and I will never get tired of the acerbic Dr. House.  Tonight's episode is supposed to have some Dr. Cuddy dream sequences, picturing House in a number of different scenarios.  The preview for the episode showed a top hat-clad House singing a dark, creepy version of "Come On Get Happy" - and it was 6 different types of awesome.  Apparently there's a whole musical number involved, choreographed by Mia Michaels (one of the best choreographers in the world, and frequently featured on another of my favorite shows/obsessions, "So You Think You Can Dance."  Super, super jazzed to see this business go down.