5/2/2011

Well, we’re rapidly approaching the halfway point of this year. I cannot believe it. Flyin’ by it is. So, since we had a Japanese Old School car thing yesterday, we didn't go to the shop on Saturday. I helped mom clean out the spare bedroom, sort of, so Tony will have a place to crash on Birkinstock weekend at the end of this month. I say “sort of” because all I did was get the ball rolling by moving a bunch of clothes and junk out so she has to do something about it. Her cleaning woman is coming over today and is supposed to get in to the meat of the cleaning process. After I'd done what I was going to do, I took a shower and waited for mom to get home from some church thing. She called to ask if I were dressed and told me to meet her at Applebee’s. This I did. As we were eating, Navajo called to say he was in town, at Rob’s, and that they were going to Hooter’s in a little while. I said I needed to do a few more things around the house and to call when they were leaving. Back at the house, I showed mom what I'd accomplished and we decided to wait for Berta to do any more. Her name isn't really Berta by the way. I read a little in my Amazing Ken Doll and took a nap before Nav called again to say they were thirty minutes from heading to Hooter’s. I said I'd see them there. At Hooter’s I hung out with the crowd for a while until Emily got too cold and we headed out to Seamus O’Hooligan’s Pub. OK, the name of the place isn't “Seamus O’Hooligan’s” but I don't remember the actual name. But if I ever open a pub, I know what I'm going to call it now: “The Manhole!” No, wait. That’s not it. From SO’H we headed to Rob’s house and met up with some more people. We hung out there and watched the pay per view Ultimate Fighting Championship fight. Around a million o’clock I finally went home. Sunday morning I got a call from the landlord at the shop. The personnel door was wide open and the lights were on. I said I'd be there in a bit. I texted John to apprise him of the situation and headed out. On the way I fingered, “Meh, the stuff isn't going to get any MORE stolen if I stop at Academy and look at .22 rifles.” This I did. They had a nice little Marlin knockoff of the Ruger 10/22 for $129.00 and a Mossberg right behind it which looked similar and was priced the same. I thought about buying one to “store” at John's house but didn't do it. I just couldn't “pull the trigger!” Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Eventually I got to the shop, signed the lease they’d sent me, and went to assess the situation. When I opened the door and saw the chop saw and DeWalt radio still sitting there, oh and my new carburetors still perched on top of the head in the vice, I knew it hadn't been a break in... probably. I went ahead and looked around and couldn't find anything amiss. I contemplated attaching some wood over the fan hole in the paint booth but decided against it. Laziness. I chatted with the facilities guy for a bit and then headed to On Target to shoot some. Oh, I'd brought the Beretta pistols and the spare magazines for the Kel-Tec 9mm I always carry, along with ammo for each. The long and the short of my shooting: I sucked. Sure, they were all in the general vicinity of where I was aiming, and all intended kill shots probably would have, but the patterning was all over the map. I was not proud of my prowess... or lack thereof. The 9mm’s problem, see what I did there, shifting the blame to the gun, is that it is double-action only and I'm jerking the gun as it lets off the hammer. It had a few failures which I know were not limp-wrist issues as the takedown pin came out a bit under fire. It was weird. When I'd shot all the 9mm I was going to shoot, I threw away that target and put up another for the Beretta. I patterned a bit better with it, especially the 6” barrel. The 4.5” barrel was a bit more spread out. Not a lot, but some. I burned through 100 rounds of .22 ammo then threw away that target as well. I swept my lane and headed out. I looked at their selection of .22 caliber “plinkers” but they were considerably higher than Academy. I went home and read some more after stopping for chicken strips at Chicken Excess. I sent John a text saying I didn't think I was going to be man enough to drive The Seven to the event in the cold misty rain. I asked if he needed a navigator, thinking if I got there early we could stop at the Academy which is on the way. He said he was picking Dave Heeter up so I said I'd meet them at the event. At 1800 h I hopped in Fifi, since Ms. Clio is still in the shop for her sunroof issue, and headed east. Up until McCart Avenue, I was thinking, “You puss, The Seven wouldn't have been so bad.” The first rain squall hit right about then and I knew I would have turned back had I been in The Seven. I got to the event and hung out for a while and headed home around 2100 h. I read some more in the Amazing Ken Doll then cleaned my guns and went to bed. So, there you have it. Another boring assed “travelogue” of my boring assed weekend. I hope you enjoyed it. Psh, no I don't. I couldn't care less. So there.