Bonus New Thing- Go to the Gun Range
Technically, this is not a totally new thing, as I've been to a gun range before. Gun range? Shooting range? I don't even know the right term. In any case, I think I blogged about the time I bought a Groupon-type deal for a gun safety "class" that ended up being my boyfriend and me in a crazy guy's living room, talking about the right kind of bullet to shoot through a skinny crackhead. So this experience was definitely not that experience. The first time I went shooting, we shot .22 handguns. They were black, and I was pretty much a gangsta, shooting stuff up. By stuff, I mean the target. If I recall correctly, I was a decent shot. I definitely killed that paper outline.
This time, my friend offered to take another friend and I out to the range for some Wild West shoot-em-up action. Not really, we take gun safety seriously. My gun-toting companion brought 5 guns for us to shoot. 5 guns? Why not. This is Arizona. Even your 4-year-old neighbor probably carries concealed.
The first gun was a .22...rifle? I will say rifle. It could shoot one bullet at a time. The best part of this gun was that you had to load the bullet, then do this clicky thing to get it ready to fire and it was like, ker-thunk. Serious business. Like a cowboy. Then you could shoot your one bullet and then kerthunk it again and the shell would pop out. Easy. I can't remember how well I aimed with that gun, but I think I did okay.
The next step was a semi-automatic .22. Also a rifle, I think. From listening to what the other gun range people were saying, I think that gun might have been called a 10-22. It had a sight on it. Site? I am a gun scientist, obviously. That gun could shoot many bullets in a row. I had to load the magazine (See, gun scientist!) and I had to wear gloves because apparently bullets are made of lead and that would be bad for my hypothetical future children. While I was loading bullets wearing my gloves, the Rangemaster came over and said "We don't allow gloves at this range! You have to get your hands dirty!" Ha ha, that kidder. I told him about my hypothetical future children and he said the gloves were actually a good idea. I wanted to tell him I couldn't have my fingerprints on the bullets but I wasn't sure if they'd appreciate my kind of humor down at the gun range so I kept that joke to myself.
Anyway, I was basically awesome with that gun. I shot the little target I was aiming at to pieces, even though the sight/site was kind of crooked and hard to see through. Boom. I probably missed my calling as a sniper.
After that gun I think there was another gun but I'm getting confused, so maybe not. Maybe it was a .22 automatic? Is that a thing? I don't know. Whatever. I was good at all the .22s. Then it was time to pull out the big gun- an AK-47. The .22s are very quiet. They're like, pew pew pew. There is no kick. They shoot where you aim them. Easy-peasey. The AK-47 is ridiculously huge. It takes giant bullets. It kicks, hard. It is LOUD. It rattled my brain and gave me a headache for the rest of the day. It is a scary gun. But...it was pretty cool. The other shooters were definitely watching.
The last gun was some kind of weird little pistol. Although the sum of my prior shooting experience was with a pistol, for some reason my brain could not comprehend how to grip that stupid little gun. It was too lightweight and too hard to aim. Plus it wasn't black, it was some kind of goldish-peach color, which is not gangsta at all. I shot the paper guy a few times but I doubt if any of the wounds were fatal. I just realized "paper guy" sounds like the I was shooting at the guy who delivers my paper. No. I am talking about the target, just to be clear. I have no plans to shoot the actual paper guy. Anyway, for me, pistol = fail.
So that's the story of the gun range and how I should have lived in the olden days when Tucson was the wild west. Here's a picture of me shooting. You can see that other guy looking on in the background, no doubt envious of my mad skills and enormous gun. I only wish I was scowling, because it's sort of weird to grin while shooting an assault rifle. I swear I'm not a psycho freak. As an added bonus, this picture has inspired me to take up regular arm workouts.
This time, my friend offered to take another friend and I out to the range for some Wild West shoot-em-up action. Not really, we take gun safety seriously. My gun-toting companion brought 5 guns for us to shoot. 5 guns? Why not. This is Arizona. Even your 4-year-old neighbor probably carries concealed.
The first gun was a .22...rifle? I will say rifle. It could shoot one bullet at a time. The best part of this gun was that you had to load the bullet, then do this clicky thing to get it ready to fire and it was like, ker-thunk. Serious business. Like a cowboy. Then you could shoot your one bullet and then kerthunk it again and the shell would pop out. Easy. I can't remember how well I aimed with that gun, but I think I did okay.
The next step was a semi-automatic .22. Also a rifle, I think. From listening to what the other gun range people were saying, I think that gun might have been called a 10-22. It had a sight on it. Site? I am a gun scientist, obviously. That gun could shoot many bullets in a row. I had to load the magazine (See, gun scientist!) and I had to wear gloves because apparently bullets are made of lead and that would be bad for my hypothetical future children. While I was loading bullets wearing my gloves, the Rangemaster came over and said "We don't allow gloves at this range! You have to get your hands dirty!" Ha ha, that kidder. I told him about my hypothetical future children and he said the gloves were actually a good idea. I wanted to tell him I couldn't have my fingerprints on the bullets but I wasn't sure if they'd appreciate my kind of humor down at the gun range so I kept that joke to myself.
Anyway, I was basically awesome with that gun. I shot the little target I was aiming at to pieces, even though the sight/site was kind of crooked and hard to see through. Boom. I probably missed my calling as a sniper.
After that gun I think there was another gun but I'm getting confused, so maybe not. Maybe it was a .22 automatic? Is that a thing? I don't know. Whatever. I was good at all the .22s. Then it was time to pull out the big gun- an AK-47. The .22s are very quiet. They're like, pew pew pew. There is no kick. They shoot where you aim them. Easy-peasey. The AK-47 is ridiculously huge. It takes giant bullets. It kicks, hard. It is LOUD. It rattled my brain and gave me a headache for the rest of the day. It is a scary gun. But...it was pretty cool. The other shooters were definitely watching.
The last gun was some kind of weird little pistol. Although the sum of my prior shooting experience was with a pistol, for some reason my brain could not comprehend how to grip that stupid little gun. It was too lightweight and too hard to aim. Plus it wasn't black, it was some kind of goldish-peach color, which is not gangsta at all. I shot the paper guy a few times but I doubt if any of the wounds were fatal. I just realized "paper guy" sounds like the I was shooting at the guy who delivers my paper. No. I am talking about the target, just to be clear. I have no plans to shoot the actual paper guy. Anyway, for me, pistol = fail.
So that's the story of the gun range and how I should have lived in the olden days when Tucson was the wild west. Here's a picture of me shooting. You can see that other guy looking on in the background, no doubt envious of my mad skills and enormous gun. I only wish I was scowling, because it's sort of weird to grin while shooting an assault rifle. I swear I'm not a psycho freak. As an added bonus, this picture has inspired me to take up regular arm workouts.
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