Monday, November 30, 2009

Testing... Testing... Is this thing on? Mobile blogging is go, kids. This should be an interesting experience, to say the least.

Going Mobile

Well, Blogger has this thing you can do: mobile blogging. And given how many random ass thoughts I have during the day, where I immediately think, "Wow, that's pretty cool, I should blog that later."

And then, yanno, I forget.

So, I'm gonna set up the mobile blog thing, and every now and then, BAM! Snark's Mouth content on the go.

Means you don't have to follow me on Twitter, cuz I know how irritating some people find it. Now, you can just check back here to see what I'm pondering/doing/whatever during the day when I'm away.

Neat, ain't it?

Song O Teh Week - Fuck You

To celebrate the end of Hug-A-Gay Month (thanks for random info, Facebook!), I bring you a song saying 'Fuck You' to bigots and close-minded fools.

Lily Allen - Fuck You

Look inside,
Look inside your tiny mind
Now look a bit harder
Cause we're so uninspired,
so sick and tired of all the
hatred you harbor

So you say
It's not okay to be gay
Well I think you're just evil
You're just some racist who
can't tie my laces
Your point of view is medieval

Fuck you (Fuck you)
Fuck you very, very much
Cause we hate what you do
And we hate your whole crew
So please don't stay in touch

Fuck you (Fuck You)
Fuck you very, very much
Cause your words don't translate
And it's getting quite late
So please don't stay in touch

Do you get,
Do you get a little kick out of
being slow minded?
You want to be like your father
It's approval your after
Well that's not how you find it

Do you,
Do you really enjoy living a
life that's so hateful?
Cause there's a hole where
your soul should be
Your losing control of it and
it's really distasteful

Fuck you (Fuck You)
Fuck you very, very much
Cause we hate what you do
And we hate your whole crew
So please don't stay in touch

Fuck you (Fuck You)
Fuck you very, very much
Cause your words don't
translate and it's getting
quite late
So please don't stay in touch

Fuck you, Fuck you, Fuck you,
Fuck you, Fuck you, Fuck you,
Fuck yooooou

You say
You think we need to go to war
well you're already in one
Cause it's people like you
who need to get slew
No one wants your opinion

Fuck you (Fuck You)
Fuck you very, very much
Cause we hate what you do
And we hate your whole crew
So please don't stay in touch

Fuck you (Fuck You)
Fuck you very, very much
Cause your words don't
translate and it's getting
quite late
So please don't stay in touch

Fuck you, Fuck you
Fuck you, Fuck you
Fuck you, Fuck you

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Blogorado, Day Four - Monday's Good-byes

Monday. Most of us were heading out today. I woke up greatly saddened by this fact. I had enjoyed myself so much, had so much fun, and made great friends with people I had never dreamed of meeting. I didn't know when I would next have the chance of seeing any of them, and I was dreading saying good-bye.

My mind was packed full of the memories we had made this weekend: the guns, the laughs, the sheer amount of fun. It should have been illegal to have that much of a good time in one weekend.

Don't get me wrong: I missed my home and those in it, but these crazy people with guns on their hips and smiles in their steps were a whole other family for me, and I missed them already.

I made sure my bags were packed, stacked in a corner and ready to go after breakfast was done with, and donning my sweater, I ambled over to the cafe.

People filed in, and I don't know if saying good-bye weighed as heavily on their minds as it did on mine (or maybe I'm just a softie like that), but they didn't let it stop anyone from having one last good time.

More jokes, more crude humor, lots of laughs, good food and coffee were had, while several of us exchanged phone numbers for keeping in touch. Many had not wanted to give out their numbers, no matter how close we had gotten without coming face-to-face, but that weekend had changed all of it.

Phlegmmy and LawDog were the first to leave, for they had a longer drive than we did and had things to do. I gave them each a hug, opined about how truly amazing it was to have met them, and bade them farewell, only to find out a few minutes later that they had picked up mine and FarmGirl's tab.

Hearts of gold and very giving people, these folks were.

FarmGirl and I announced that we had to be hitting the road, for it was a long drive to the airport for me to get home. More hugs were had all around, a few more pictures were taken, and everyone was gushing about how great it was to finally meet each other, or how awesome it was to see someone again. I almost felt as if I would cry.

The drive to the airport was not as quiet as the one to the FarmHouse was, being more comfortable in each other's presence as FarmGirl and I had grown. She talked about her horse, Monkey, and what it was like at her school; she told me of the other blogmeet she had gone to that Phlegmmy had hosted, and a variety of other subjects.

Before too much longer, we arrived at the airport, FarmGirl dropping me off at the curb, and I checked my bags in. The flight was uneventful, but I had a copy of AD's book to read on the ride home, so I wasn't too horribly bored.

Kansas City is beautiful from the air, I will say that much. A sea of glittering lights.

I had a great time, and I sincerely hope that some time in the near future, I can repeat the experience: meet new friends, see old ones again, shoot a lot of guns, and laugh until I feel my sides will split right open.

The range is hot!

Friday, November 27, 2009

Blogorado, Day Four - Sunday

Sunday! Last day of shooting! Not gonna lie, I was chomping at the bit to get back out to the range. If you listened to the Brady Bunch, that horrifying bloodlust that accompanies shooting a gun had seized hold of me, and I was thirsty for the liquid life.

Which is a load of complete bullshit, but I was eager to enjoy some more shooty goodness.

Dinking around on the computer while Christina took a morning shower, I forgot that the time on my computer's clock was different from local time. It said it was almost 9 AM, so I hustled my keister over to the cafe for breakfast, to discover the place nearly empty, with only three people there.

FarmGirl introduced me and I shook hands with MattG and JPG, in awe of the gentle giant and his charming father. More quiet conversation was had as people slowly trickled in, ordering coffee to fuel themselves up for the day. After all, we were planning to exhaust ourselves out at the range.

I stepped outside for a cigarette where Salamander informed me that he would not be able to join us for today's festivities. The Newt was still sick and he had to be getting home to tend to his child. With a farewell hug, we sent him on his way, then began the migration out towards the range.


Breda was immediately handed the biggest handgun I had yet seen, and I stared in awe as this little slip of a woman fire round after round, watching what looked like recoil from hell after each shot. And then the other shooty n00b took a turn: Christina! I would show pictures, but some people like to remain anonymous on the internet, and I shall respect their wishes. :) I do have a picture of the gun in question though.

Super Blackhawk, wut?

A picture that would make the Brady Bunch spontaneously combust!


Mizz Phlegmmy deemed it safe to pose for a picture, so I immortalized her in digital form, displaying all of her charm in one smile.

I felt truly blessed to have met her, I really did. I adored her! I mean, I adored everybody, but she was something else, she really was.

It wasn't too much longer before I was drawn to the rifle range again, eyeballing Jim with his AR once more. That's right, I wanted another turn at that pretty pup, and he was kind enough to oblige me while Breda was nice enough to take pictures with my camera.

I f*cking love that gun. Maybe Santa will bring me one for Christmas? I promise, I've been good!!

Breda rocked the SKS like nobody's business, of course....

My shoulder was aching at this point. After spending all day shooting guns I was unaccustomed to, and then sleeping on it, I was in a fair amount of pain. But oh, it hurt so good. The lovely librarian saw me rubbing at the red spot on my skin, and pulled her shirt down to show some lovely bruises.

Of course, it got Jim's attention, and he immediately took pictures, as did I.

And of course, this picture was taken accompanied by words that Jim repeated often enough during the weekend: "Okay, give me angry, I want to see angry!"

Then I realized the very appropriate shirt that Stingray was wearing and had to take a picture of it.

We adjourned for lunch then, most of us bickering over the limited chairs that were available. AD stole my spot, then sweetly offered his own chair to me, with the Longhorns logo emblazoned across the back of it. I badmouthed the foul team, raising nine kinds of hell with AD for even thinking to offer that seat to the daughter of an Aggie, and then KatyBeth chimed in, agreeing with her father. She was too cute to punish for her impudence, though.

Right as everyone was finished stuffing their faces, a couple of the gentlemen reappeared, announcing that for the snipers on the rifle table, there were new targets set up on the opposite side of the range: 55-gallon barrels were placed at 500 yards and 950 yards, and most people took turns at them. I was not brave enough to try, but I did stand back and cheer folks on as they rotated through the snipers. Memorable quote of the moment came from Stingray, directed towards Breda.

"Almost a thousand yards, and you got it on your second fucking pull!"

There's a reason we call her the World's Most Dangerous Librarian.

Afterwards, I don't know what possessed AEPilotJim, but he decided he wanted to play dress-up with Breda.

That's Jim's M14 she's holding (which is almost as long as she is tall), and that sash she's wearing? Yeah, that's his belt and holster. We couldn't cinch it up tight enough to fit around her waist, so she had to wear it like that. We were all giggling about these pictures, of course.

Breda decided she would mosey back over to the pistol range while it was deserted, and I chose to follow, making a quick stop where everybody was set up with the clays and shotguns to ask Mr. Stingray if he would be so kind as to let me shoot his hand cannon. The day before it was quite intimidating, but I knew I'd be kicking myself for eternity if I didn't shoot it at least once. He said he'd be over shortly, because I was not familiar with wheelguns and did not know how to load it.

Whilst waiting for him to come down to let me play with his toy (boy, that sounds dirty, don't it?), I gazed quite longingly at Alan's full-auto. "Can I shoot it?" I asked.

"Here," he said, and handed me a box of ammo and a magazine to load.

And then he fired a magazine, I fired one, and Breda shot it once more.


Oh, that was fun to shoot.

Back over on the rifle side, they called the range cold and tacked up a bag of Tannerite to one of the target backdrops. Christina and I each took position on a rifle and they cut us loose, telling us to hit the black bag on the wooden board.


I nailed it that time, and when it exploded, my grin was positively feral, I was so thoroughly pleased.

This is what was left of the board the tannerite was stuck on, once we tore down the range.

And yes, that really is Jim's face. I was SHOCKED, I really was. But he's so damned cuddly!

After we called both ranges cold and the FarmFam announced it was time to pack up and go home, before it got too dark to see, Jim made a brass call.

"Anybody want to help pick up these shells, for those of us that reload ammo?"

I stared at him stupidly. Then snuck away to Alan's truck, where Breda was resting, and chatted with her amiably for a few minutes. I mentioned the brass call.

"Is he fucking serious? After all we've fired? Are you kidding me?"

Yeah, that's what I thought too.

KatyBeth decided she wanted to ride back into town with Mizz Christina, so I piled into AD's truck with him and GayCynic, and promptly passed out in the backseat.

Hey, I was TIRED, man!

Then there was the deer incident (See also: here, here, here, and the best of all, here).

Once everybody made it back into town, Christina and I with custody of little miss KatyBeth, we knocked on Breda's door to inform her and Alan (because those two seemed to be attached at the hip sometimes) of what had happened. Then we high-tailed it over to the FarmHouse, laptop in tow because I just had to be the first to blog about the deer incident, just as LawDog and Phlegmmy arrived. Phlegmmy asked if I had uploaded the pictures, and asked ever-so-politely if she could borrow my laptop to put up a picture. I, being the ever-giving soul that I am, allowed her, resulting in this lovely post over here.

We had pot roast, potato casserole, and delicious vegetables for dinner, with more of the diabetic-coma-inducing cheesecake brownies, and Atomic Beer, of course. The Nerds arrived with a freshly-cleaned AD, sporting the best tacticool attachment for any rifle EVAR.

Many jokes were had about "Super Scrappy Nibbles", and then we all settled down to BS some more, stuff our faces with delicious home cooking, and Christina vanished to give more massages, as she did every night.

Time wore on, people called it a night, and FarmGirl dragged out the fire pit to set up outside the garage. Stingray, Labrat, Jim, and I, all huddled around the flame, trying to avoid a faceful of smoke. Talk was quiet, moods were restful, all was well.

The temperature kept dropping, and I was running out of energy, so I asked Jim if he would walk with me back to the motel. We chatted more as we walked and said goodnight outside of our respective motel rooms.

Christina still wasn't home yet, so I crawled into bed and passed out. I had to get some sleep, for early in the morning, FarmGirl and I had to get on the road to the airport so I could go home.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Blogorado, Day Three - Saturday

Saturday morning dawned as comfortable as the previous days, though I did not wake up at the ass-crack of dawn this time. Christina was going about her morning ablutions, and I was sprawled across my bed, wasting time in the GBC like I always do. Salamander announced that he had made it into town last night (or some time in the wee hours of the morning, same thing) and that he was at Such-and-Such Motel... right behind mine!

So, of course, I wandered over and stood around, waiting for him to come outside, because I did not know who I was looking for. I had never met these people before, and though I recognized a few from pictures I'd seen on the internet (or met in real life that one time), this was a whole new ball game for me. The managers of the motel yelled across the parking lot if I needed help, seeing me standing there lookin' all lost and retarded, and I yelled back that no, I was just waiting for a friend to come out because I did not know which room he was in. And then, out stepped Sal!

We greeted and hugged, and stepped into his room while he squee'd all over the GBC about meeting another blogger, before logging off to accompany me to breakfast. We moseyed (is that even a real word?) over to the little cafe where everyone had agreed that we would breakfast every morning, and upon arrival, I announced, "Look what I found!" Introductions were made all around, coffee was ordered by everyone except AD and his daughter, and then the FarmParents showed up with their grandson, FarmGirl's nephew, in tow, who would be there to play with KatyBeth. It's so nice to have someone your own age to play with, right?

After breakfast, we all caravaned out to the FarmFam House once more, drank some more coffee, and stood around shuffling our feet for only a little bit. The message was clear, written on everyone's faces: we were anxious to go get some much-loved recoil therapy. Finally, the message went out: Load up! Let's go!

And out to the range we went.

AD had informed me on the ride back in the day before that he had brought several guns specifically for teaching me and Christina how to shoot, so I knew who to stick close to. That, and I knew him the best, considering how I fangirl'd over him for so long and met him a few months back. He's my buddy, it's true.

For a while after we got to the range, everyone was doing last-minute set-up: loading magazines, organizing ammo and guns on tables, and people were wandering from truck to truck to see what was offered before it all got laid out. Christina and I, seeing as we didn't have any guns to shoot of our own, stood around looking useless before volunteering ourselves for mag-loading duty. AD set a box in front of us and several magazines and set us to task, and pretty soon, all was ready.

Some people decided they wanted to shoot at the rifle range first, so I stood around to watch and take some pictures for a moment before boogeying over to the pistol range to let some rounds fly.

That AR-15? Yeah, I fell in love with that pretty baby. I gotta get me one of them!

After a few minutes of watching them shoot the rifles, I followed the crowd over to the pistol range, where AD began to give lessons to Christina and I on the various guns he had brought for exactly that reason. We shot several .22s, and then he broke out his Glock 17 and handed it off to us. We took turns putting rounds through it, and my hand stung slightly afterwards, not being used to the recoil of something more than .22.

I saw Sal standing back at the table, and I peeked over his shoulder to see what he had.

"I only brought my new 1911 and enough ammo for this."

That, my darling readers, is a handful of happy. What a pretty sight!

People would step up to the lines, take aim, and fire, going for either paper targets, fall-down poppers, or metal plates on a shelf. After everything was down, someone would call the range cold, and while they were picking up plates and poppers, everyone else would shuffle back to the table to reload or pick up a different firearm to shoot.

At some point, I migrated back over to the rifle range and parking area, breezing right past a table set up with leftovers for lunch, to see a few folks sitting around chowing down. "Where's the food at?" "That table you just walked by."


Fixed myself a plate and sat down, chewing the fat with FarmMom while chewing her delicious food, when I happened to look up and see a cloud of dust up on the road.

"Somebody's coming."

"That's probably Phlegmmy and LawDog."

Omigawd! Christina was about to flip her shit, for sure. Her and Phlegmmy are great friends, and they were excited about finally getting to meet face-to-face.

They arrived, and Christina did the honor of introducing me to Phlegmmy while LawDog bounced around from person to person. Another one of the first bloggers I read, was he, and I was a might nervous about meeting him, and said as much to Phlegmmy, who promptly called him over for introductions.

Such lovely people!

While we all ate, and the newcomers set up their offerings to the Gun Gods, Salamander raised his pants legs for an interesting shot of his knee beards.

(Picture courtesy of Stingray)

Uhm. Interesting growth there, Sal.

After stuffing our faces, we were eager, of course, to return to the shooting. Back on the pistol range, Alan broke out this pretty toy:

I wouldn't get to shoot it until Sunday, but it was nice to gawk at. Fully automatic, wut.

My head is just... spinning with all the different guns that were shot, I can't even begin to keep them all straight, I really can't.

Over at the rifle range once more, I watched AEPilotJim shoot his AR-15 once more, and when he emptied the magazine it was holding, he turned to see a forlorn expression on my face.

"You want to shoot it?"

"I thought you'd never ask!"

He showed me how to load the magazine and snap it into place, where the safety was, and how the sight worked, then turned me loose to have some fun.

Oh. My. God.

I'm in love.

Want. Want very bad. WAAAAAAAAANT.

Breda took a seat at the rifle table in front of one of the M24 snipers, and went to town at the 240 yard half-size target (effectively a 500 yard shot, I'm informed). Couldn't resist snapping a pic of that, of course.

While everyone was gathered around watching Breda on the sniper, I saw Sal sneak off by himself to the pistol range, and being the nosey little brat I am, followed to see what the deal was.

He was getting some one-on-one time with his Les Baer 1911, which he offered to let me try. Seeing as I had not yet had the opportunity to shoot something in .45 ACP, I gratefully accepted, and got 5 out of 7 on the popppers. First magazine through the first .45 I ever shot, not bad.

I now know which side of the Glock vs. 1911 argument I fall on, that's for sure.

At one point, I glanced over to discover that KatyBeth had grown bored with playing NCIS with someone her own age, and decided she wanted a turn, too!

People were migrating to and from the two ranges quite often, myself included, as once again I was back over at the pistol range. The sun was beginning to set, and everything had a lovely warm glow.

LabRat was standing off next to the pistol table, and I stepped up next to her, looking at all the guns spread out before me. "I want to shoot something, but I don't know what," I said to her.

"How about one of the wedding rings?" she asked, lifting the lid on a case that held the two beauties.

Don't gotta ask me twice.

I picked up the darker of the two and was informed it was Stingray's. I went to set it back down and go for hers, not wanting to offend the man I did not know very well by shooting his gun without permission, but she shook her head and handed me a magazine to load. "It's cool, just go for it."

I handed over my camera and stepped up, aimed, and fired! So nice!

Aim, squeeze... click. "What the?"

Rack the slide back, ejected the shell it didn't want to let go of, try again.

Click. Looked over at LabRat nervously, who approached to help me sort out this problem. "Papa Baer's been kind of bratty here lately," she said, handing me the gun back.

Okay, let's try one more time.

Aim, squeeze.... click. Wail. "LabRat! He hates me!"

She growled and manhandled Stingray's gun, uttering death threats before handing it back to me with a dark smile. After that, the gun behaved. Always fear Mama, for she has the power to END YOU.

The sun was dipping lower on the horizon and a chill was starting to set in, so we loaded up for the trek back into town. I rode back in with Salamander, bullshitting about this, that, and everything in between during the ride.

At one point, still on dirt and gravel road, we saw everyone had stopped. Alan and Breda had pulled off to the side, set the truck in park, and were sitting there contently watching the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen. "We'll be back into town shortly," they told us, and on the rest of us went.

Being covered in dust and dirt, most of us stopped by our respective motel rooms to tidy up first. Christina, though she is a darling, always seems to take forever, so by the time we got over to the house for dinner, everyone else had arrived.

AD held out a platter to me. "Try a scrappy nibble."

And I made the mistake of trusting him. Little bite-sized deep fried chicken-nugget looking things. Can't be that bad. Popped one into my mouth and chewed. Chewy. Still, not too horribly bad. And then I saw the look on Breda's face, and Alan next to her trying so hard not to laugh. Realization dawned.

"What is this stuff?" I asked.

"Just finish eating it," Breda said quietly.

My eyes got big. "What is it?" I repeated urgently, slowing my chewing.

Breda shook her head, Alan looked like he was about to explode if he didn't let out his laughter, and AD said from (a safe distance) across the garage, "How you like those testicles, Snarky?"

I raged. I cursed. I gagged. God damn it!

Of course, Mamaw grabbed my arm a few minutes later after I had finally choked the Rocky Mountain Oysters down. "You want some more?"

Oh god no!

"Before you knew what they were, they tasted good, right?"

I feared I had offended her cooking. Of course ma'am, they were very good!

"Then eat some more. Regardless of what they are, they still taste good."

She had a point. So I ate some more. I will admit, they tasted good, but just the fact that I knew I was chewing on what used to be some calf's family jewels was a very off-putting thought.

More delicious food was consumed, this evening's meal being chicken fried steak, and we all made fun of Breda for never trying it. What do you expect of a Yankee?

I had not burned that much energy in a long time, and I was exhausted. I was not the only one: little KatyBeth was getting cranky from being tired as well, so after much ribbing about being a lightweight, for I had only drunk half a beer, and my indignant protests of bodily exhaustion and not drunken exhaustion, I caught a ride back to the motel, only to fall asleep with my laptop in my lap.

So. Damn. Tired.

But it was a good kind of tired.

I needed my rest. There was more shooting to come the next day, and more company. MattG and JPG were due to arrive the next day!

Monday, November 23, 2009

Reasons I'm Awesome, Pt. 632

Scene: Sidewalk, after dark. Streetlights are on, stars are out, faint sounds of traffic in the background. A young man of the dumbshit emo variety, and a perky female of the yuppie variety are standing on a section of sidewalk in front of a house, talking. Our hero, Snarky, enters from the end of the street, humming a song to herself and smoking a cigarette as she approaches the young couple.

Snarky: Hum de dum dum. *puffs*

EmoFuck: *glares at approaching person, sees cigarette* You know smoking will kill you, right?

Yuppie: *rolls her eyes and puffs on her own cigarette*

Snarky: *exhales big plume of smoke* Yep. That's why I do it. *flicks ash*

Yuppie: Me too! *giggle*

EmoFuck: *sneers as Snarky gets closer* That stuff is so bad for your health.

Snarky: *takes another puff and flicks the cigarette away, walking up to EmoFuck. Exhales smoke in his face and smiles darkly* And me without it is bad for your health, pal. If you have a problem with it, take a number and go fuck yourself.

EmoFuck: *coughs, hacks, sputters, calls Snarky a stupid cunt, and wanders in the opposite direction of Snarky*

Yuppie: *giggles the whole time*

I didn't say I was in the best of moods.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Blogorado Weekend Report...

....will be forthcoming.

Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. You want to hear AAAAAAAAAAALL about it. Trust me, I want to tell it to you.

I've been a bad Snarky, not blogging about it like I promised I would. Life has been mad crazy hectic since I got back: finals are coming up, the homework load for classes has skyrocketed, and apparently I was muchly missed here at home, because for the past week and a half since I came back from my trip, there have been people here EVERY DAY.

I promise, you'll hear all about it. Swear.

For now, I will leave you with this.

Who IS that sexy bitch? That gun just makes me want to bone the fuck out of her.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Blogorado, Day Two - Friday

Friday morning found me awake at 5 AM. Though the time difference was only an hour between there and home, but Wee Small Bairn likes to wake up at around 6 AM, so I was up around the time he was no matter what. I tossed and turned and tried to go back to sleep, but quickly gave up and decided coffee was needed. Time for a trot to the gas station.

It was a little chill outside, but it was no problem. It was just as cold back in Missouri, so my skin felt comfortable with it. The gas station wasn't all that far, for all it was at the other end of town from the motels where everyone was staying at. Cheap coffee, but better than the competition's, from what the FarmFam told me.

Coffee in hand, I began a leisurely stroll back to the motel, stopping to snap a picture of the sky as the sun was starting to peek over the horizon.

(click to embiggen)

I think seeing things like that made me fall in love with Colorado, and FarmTown in particular warmed my heart with how kind people were, even to absolute strangers; wide open spaces, and a sky full of stars every night.

Returning to the motel room, I discovered Christina huddled in a ball under her covers, complaining of how freezing her poor tush was. I hadn't noticed it, myself. She said she couldn't find the control for the heater, and I made her feel like a right twit when I leaned around the corner from the heater where the electric control was and flipped it up. She then proceeded to toast her butt on it, between bouts of her morning hygiene ritual.

Being the geek I was, while waiting for her to finish getting ready so we could scrounge up some food, I logged into IRC, and FarmDad informed me of Jim's fatal mistake. And when Breda realized, she immediately wanted to know which room he was in.

Since we had spent the morning bouncing from one room to another, talking and laughing about this and that, some of us were just leaving our doors standing open to yell at folks as they walked by. So, of course, when Breda stormed past our room on her way to give Jim a... uhm... stern talking-to, shall we say, we naturally followed. NFO got curious and followed.

Jim's door was open, but he was nowhere to be seen. Must be in the bathroom. Christina, NFO, and I all crowded around the doorway as Breda took a seat around the corner and out of sight from the bathroom door, and we waited. Jim walked out, saw Breda, and knew his time had come. He was off to meet his maker, complete with a squeak of terror. I'd be scared too, should she have turned the DeathStare™ on me.

Various posts outlined his untimely, but well-deserved, demise.

Once we were done giggling at our own silly antics, we hoofed it across the street to the cafe for breakfast, meeting NFO and Gay Cynic there for breakfast. Christina and NFO talked about the military, both coming from that background, while Cynic and I threw out comments here and there where applicable. The food was good, and cheap to buy, and I thoroughly enjoyed the first good plate of huevos rancheros I'd eaten since I left Texas.

We were all supposed to meet up at the FarmHouse at 10 to go see the museum that Breda had read about, with a stuffed two-headed calf, so once breakfast was over, we made our way back to the motel and started piling into cars. I rode with NFO and Jimjim, and Cynic rode with Christina. Of course, before we went, we had to snap a picture of Alan modeling his outfit for the day...

We all met up at the house, drank several cups of coffee, then FarmGirl informed us that, before we entered the museum, our herd of misfits would have to disarm, with the library and museum being county property and all. It was close enough to walk to, so walk we did, with Christina taking her car so everyone could leave their sidearms in her trunk.

All weekend, our entire group open carried, because it was legal everywhere in Colorado, save for Denver, and not everyone can do that back home. It was greatly enjoyed, and according to several attendees, very liberating.

I wouldn't call it "junk in the trunk", but way cooler!

We examined the library and what it had to offer first, since we had the World's Most Dangerous Librarian with us. Back in the corner was an old card catalog, which Breda fairly squeeee'd over. There was also a note from the librarian, warning readers not to cross out words they found offensive.

On to the museum! Home of two-headed calves, badgers, taxidermy'd eagles, and a whole bunch of other cool stuff, too!

Neat stuff, really was.

We trooped back outside, everyone re-armed, and then we went parading down the street once more, this time in search of food-type stuff. The Nerds peeled off and weren't seen for a while, only to discover they escaped for a nap. I guess a train kept them up all night, but I heard no such commotion.

We had some delicious food at another little hole-in-the-wall diner-type eatery, and then traipsed back on over to the house. More coffee was consumed, lots more chatter was had, and then we piled into the cars to caravan out to where the horses were pastured. Jim, NFO, and FarmDad pulled away to go set up the range where we would be having fun later in the weekend.

Horses! Yay!

Mizz Breda saddled up first, on Joan, a stubborn beastie who was quite insistent on not doing as she was told. So Breda rode around in circles for a bit before finally allowing that, yes, she could be reigned in and commanded, and amazingly enough, she would listen. While we watched, FarmGirl saddled up Rebel and went out to warm him up. Gay Cynic mounted Rebel, and more riding commenced.

For some unknown reason, Joan decided a lope was in order, and came across the pen at a brisk pace, with Breda balancing quite nicely. We cheered her for handling it well, and then swapped out spots with some of the other bloggers.

My turn came up, and I had to be assisted into the saddle (for I am a lard-ass with no muscle to speak of), and off I went, enjoying the slight rocking feeling of riding. As I came back around near the gate, I looked up and recognized a white Dodge.... Ambulance Driver and KatyBeth were here!

We promptly got the little cutie up in the saddle, as soon as we reassured her that no, the horse was not going to go fast. The most memorable quote of the weekend came from a precious seven-year-old, "I know that you're going to walk, but what's the horse going to do?"

After FarmGirl and KatyBeth did a couple of circuits, the Nerds took a turn. And apparently, Stingray got bored with an easy walk and quickly kicked Rebel, his mount, up into a full gallop, butt out of the saddle and leaning forward... on what we later learned was a very seat-cue oriented horse. As they approached the gate, instead of slowing when Stingray pulled back on the reigns, he kept barreling forward until his bounced his face off the gate... because Stingray was still standing up in the stirrups.


After that, we decided we'd go investigate the range and see what was taking everyone so long. Of course, as soon as we headed out, we saw their trucks approaching. They promptly turned around and followed us out, and there was much exclaiming over the awesomeness of the range that we would spend all weekend flinging lead down.

We could hardly wait for the next day to dawn and for the real fun to begin!

Note: The comment I made on my last post to NFO was meant only as a joke. I've been told some people were less-than-pleased with me saying that, so I deleted the comment, but in all seriousness, I wouldn't dream of being uncouth enough to ask that. It was meant as a joke and nothing more, and I apologize to those who were offended by it.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Blogorado, Day One - Thursday

Unlike most of my cohorts at this lovely shindig, I did not bring any firearms with me. Mainly because I didn't own any. So I had no problems with declaring firearms at the airport, or dealing with TSA over it.

An uneventful flight, with me downing glasses of wine (free drinks thanks to flying first class, courtesy of OldNFO. Thanks, dude!) to keep myself calm. I am a very nervous flyer. Or flier. However it's spelled. Got on the ground, and oh my word, that airport is big. As soon as I powered my phone back on, I shot a text to FarmGirl, who was my ride to and from the place with the big metal birds. Made it down to baggage claim and started looking around for her, only to find her very scrawny self hidden over in a corner. About that time, my phone buzzed, letting me know I had a text message, telling me she was over in that corner. Imagine that!

Grabbed my duffel bag and hoofed it out to FarmGirl's car, and then we were off on the five hour drive to her town. (Note to self: Take LawDog up on his offer of a convoy. Fly into Amarillo and ride with him up to the next one. Way closer.) We got away from the airports, and I could see the Rockies lining one side of the town, and oh they were a sight to see. I wish I had been able to get to my camera, but it was in my bag and I couldn't reach it.

The drive was made in relative silence, with a few bits of small talk here and there, but to me, it wasn't a tense, awkward silence, so I was happy. I got an eyeful of the beautiful scenery as we drove, and all was well.

The sun had just set in a spectacular display of pinks, golds, reds, and purples over the horizon, with dark settling over the countryside as we pulled into FarmGirl's town. And what a tiny town it was! So homey, but I loved it. Everyone was delightfully friendly.

We pulled up outside of Mamaw's house and went in, leaving my stuff in the car. I'd be rooming with Christina this weekend, and she hadn't yet made it into town, so there was no need to pull my stuff out just yet. Inside we went, to get introduced to FarmGirl's family and get some food in our bellies.

We were greeted by AepilotJim and NFO, and many hugs were had, and then I was introduced to Mamaw and her companion, FarmMom, and FarmDad, who were excited to have more bloggers arrive. Thankfully, the boys had already finished the hard work of slicing brisket for dinner that night. The food was delicious: brisket, ham and beans, cornbread, and then cornbread with bacon and cheese in it! Oh, such a happy camper was I.

Shortly afterwards, Christina and Gay Cynic arrived, and more hugs were had all around. Christina and I were both on cloud nine with excitement oozing out of every pore. All these awesome bloggers that we both read every day, and we were getting to meet them, hang out with them, spend all weekend shooting guns with them. There was so much concentrated awesome in that house by the time the weekend was over, that it should have been illegal. It was that cool.

We were all sitting around eating and bullshitting, and FarmGirl asked her parents if anyone had heard from the Nerds and the rest of their contingent and no one had. About that time, two trucks pulled up, and up the driveway sauntered the coolest people on earth, ya'll.

Breda! Alan! Labrat and Stingray! ZOMG!

The party was in full swing now, because along with awesome companions, the Nerds brought atomic beer, brewed and bottled at the Nerd Ranch. I, being the loser that I am, did not drink any; I'm not one for the taste of any beer, apparently. I sampled, and I drank a grand total of one bottle all weekend.

We all settled down in a circle in the garage, eating, drinking, and being merry, though we did not die the next day. And then the geekery came out: all who had laptops or iPhones broke them out, and half of us there were in IRC talking to one another through text instead of voice in person.

Yeah. We're that bad.

The night wore on, and then it was time to boogie to our respective motels to check in for the night. Christina's car was packed nigh to overflowing, so I shoved my bag into the trunk and declared I would walk. It wasn't that far. Hell, I walk that same distance every day to get to class. I met her at the motel, and the unloading shuffle began. By the time we both crawled into bed, my stuff was piled in a neat little corner, whereas Christina's belongings had exploded over two-thirds of the room.

Everyone had agreed to meet for breakfast the next morning at a little steakhouse-cafe across the street, so alarms were set, and then we slept, dreaming of the unmeasurable amounts of fun that would be had in the coming days.

Sunday, November 8, 2009


So, after a glorious day of flinging lead downrange, we were all headed back into town for dinner at FarmMom's. I was one happily exhausted Snarky, so I had immediately conked out in the back of AD's truck, with the big man himself driving (obviously), and Gay Cynic in the passenger seat.

It's dark, the truck is moving, I'm lulled to sleep, and all is well in my world.

"Oh FUCK!" *Swerve swerve CRUNCH* "Son of a bitch, where did it go?"

A lovely 8 pointer jumped across the road, and try as he might, poor AD was not able to completely avoid hitting it. It wasn't a complete disaster, the truck was not totaled, but it was going to need to be towed; the radiator reservoir was crunched, and it dumped it's fluid fast.

(click to embiggen)

That's the truck. Like I said, not too much damage. Here's the deer:

And, of course, the man who hit it. :D

The saddest part is the fact that, once we realized everybody was okay, nobody was hurt, the truck wasn't completely destroyed, and hey! Venison! We ended up throwing a nice party on the side of the highway, waiting for DOW and everybody else for official reasons.

The guy from the sheriff's department appeared right after we set up the head of the buck. Department of Wildlife said that they needed to keep the head of the buck, can't exactly remember why, so after removing it, we had some fun:

Yeah, he was a little weirded out by us. But by god, we had fun. We realized, thanks to FarmDad, that the damage was not extensive, and the Nerds had a powerful enough truck to tow Frankenhoopty somewhere to be worked on. Much fun was had.

Well, as much fun as was possible.

PS - Leave it to AD to hunt deer this way. We spend all day shooting guns, and he kills it with a truck. Silly boy.

Saturday, November 7, 2009


So, I promise, there's going to be a full report of the weekend... once I get home and can gather all my thoughts. My brain is so scattered right now it's not even funny.

But! There are two pictures I wanted to show you. Both of guns, and both belong to Stingray.


This is his Evil Black Rifle, and the fuzzy d20s are awesome. I want to play with THAT one.

And this....


That just scares me.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Just Retribution

Jim signed his own death warrant this morning.

We were too late to save him.

Rest in peace, Jimbo.

Thursday, November 5, 2009


So, we made it to FG's. A lovely flight in first class, picked up by the lovely FarmGirl herself, and a nice relaxing drive til we got here. The Jims were already here, and we stuffed our faces and relaxed for a bit more.

Christina and Gay_Cynic arrived after a bit, and hugs were had all around. More food was consumed, more bullshit was had, and a good time was had.

Then these four people walked up, and my brain started leaking out of my ears. Breda! The Nerds! Alan!

ZOMG. Wow.

It's gonna be a good god damned weekend.

EDIT: Breda says she is excited about teaching me how to shoot! ZOMG!

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Bloggers in Colorado... Blogorado?

As I have mentioned in the past, I will be attending a blogmeet that has been dubbed "Blogorado" this weekend.

My flight leaves tomorrow at noon, so I have to leave Warrensburg around 8:30, of course. Don't you love restrictions in flying? Thank you, TSA! I feel *so* much safer!

(And if you couldn't tell that was sarcasm, get the fuck off my blog. Go! Now!)

Man, I can't wait to meet all these awesome folks.

With the lineup that is planning to attend, my head is going to explode as soon as I touch down just from the sheer fangirl-ness of being in their proximity.

A weekend full of good food, good drink, great company, and shooty goodness.

What more could a fledgling gunny-girl ask for?

Blogging over the weekend may be sporadic, but knowing me, it might not happen at all. Once I'm back on my own turf, I'll tell you all about it though. Promise.

I'll bring lots of pics, too!

((For those of you attending, if you don't want me to post your picture on my blog, just let me know. I would still appreciate having as many pics as I can, but if not, just say so.))

See you Monday night!

Tuesday, November 3, 2009


I love my luck, man. I'm due to leave for Blogorado by plane on Thursday, and yesterday afternoon, what happens?

My head stuffs up and feels like my eyeballs are going to explode. Thank you, Sinus Gods!

Woke up this morning with no improvement. Gah. This is gonna suck.

Thankfully it's just my sinuses. If it were anything worse, I would have to (god forbid) cancel my trip to Blogorado, and miss out on meeting such cool people, and that would make me sad. And we don't like me sad, do we, kids? No, no we don't.

So, yeah. Need some Sudophed to clear this shit up quick. Hopefully they won't think I'm cooking up some meth in my bathroom and they'll leave me alone.


Monday, November 2, 2009

Song O Teh Week - Indestructible

This week's Song O Teh Week is "Indestructible", by Disturbed. A little bit newer, heavier, and angrier on the sound it is.

This song is being played in honor of my adopted big brother, Dragonslayer: Army soldier, young man, godfather to my son. I haven't seen him in a year and a half, because he has been doing his duty and fighting over in Iraq. Come December 14th, he'll be flying home for a month-long furlough, and I can't wait to see him and introduce him to his precious little red-haired godson.

This one's for you, Dragonslayer!

Indestructible - Disturbed

Another mission
The powers have called me away
Another time
To carry the colors again
My motivation
An oath I've sworn to defend
To win the honor
Of coming back home again
No explanation
Will matter after we begin
Another dark destroyer that's buried in me
My true vocation
And now my unfortunate friend
You will discover
A war you're unable to win

I'll have you know
That I've become...

Determination that is incorruptible
From the other side
A terror to behold
Annihilation will be unavoidable
Every broken enemy will know
That their opponent had to be invincible
Take a last look around while you're alive
I'm an indestructible master of war

Another reason
Another cause for me to fight
Another fuse uncovered
Now, for me to light
My dedication
To all that I've sworn to protect
I carry out my orders
With out a regret
A declaration
Embedded deep under my skin
A permanent reminder
Of how we began
No hesitation
When I am commanding the strike
You need to know
That you're in for the fight of your life

You will be shown
How I've become...

Determination that is incorruptible
From the other side
A terror to behold
Annihilation will be unavoidable
Every broken enemy will know
That their opponent had to be invincible
Take a last look around while you're alive
I'm an indestructible master of war


Determination that is incorruptible
From the other side
A terror to behold
Annihilation will be unavoidable
Every broken enemy will know
That their opponent had to be invincible
Take a last look around while you're alive
I am indestructible (indestructible)

Determination that is incorruptible
From the other side
A terror to behold
Annihilation will be unavoidable
Every broken enemy will know
That their opponent had to be invincible
Take a last look around while you're alive
I'm an indestructible master of war