When I was about 12 or 13 and a giant fat shit of a kid, my parents moved me from the city to the country - thus introducing me to the concept of ‘fresh air’ and ‘clean water’ and ‘no city trash pickup so guess who is driving with your drunk father to the dump today’ and ‘no McDonald’s within walking distance SERIOUSLY?! WTF GUYS.’
I miss the Fry Guys. So funny.
Like little midget Carrot Tops.
My new house in southern New Hampshire was surrounded by these tall weird looking things made of wood called ‘trees.’ There were lots of these ‘trees’ and when put together in bunches they were called ‘woods’ which I’m assuming is because the trees all seem to be built with it.
The more you know.
So time went by and I got older and somehow skinnier and got my license and pretty soon my old city friends would come to visit me once in a while and bring with them a trunkful of armaments and loads and loads of ammunition.
Oh.
I forgot to mention my friend, Lou.
Lou was one of my city friends who was pretty obsessed with guns and when I say ‘pretty obsessed’ I mean ‘most likely to kill all of us in a random fit of insanity’ because he was the only 16 year old I knew who could probably go toe-to-toe with Sarah Conner and her Mexican friends based solely on his cache of weapons.
So here’s how one of their visits to my quaint, suburban house would go:
Yes.
On a typical Sunday morning it wouldn’t be weird to see four high-schoolers standing at the end of my driveway emptying 53,000 rounds of ammunition randomly into the woods behind my house like a group of John J. Rambos but with less muscles and way more acne.
Also, I had a compound bow.
Because nothing says ‘being responsible with firearms’ like adding a bow and arrow into the mix and then, just for shits and giggles, doing THIS:
Right.
Like if I could do THAT I'd be sitting here writing this shitty blog.
No. I'd take my bow and so stuff like this:
I would haul back and shoot arrows way into the sky just to see how high and far I could get them to go.
Me: “Wow. That went really far.”
Ed: “Yeah. I wonder where it landed.”
Meanwhile...
...just a little further north of my house:
Yes.
We forgot there were houses behind these woods.
..aaaaand scene.
Monday, June 27, 2011
I'd be a shoo-in if the NRA hired teenage spokespeople
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24 comments:
Your parents must of been so proud.
p.s. Guns and Archery are not nearly as damaging to a Woods as a golf club in the hands of a woman scorned.
I grew up in northern NJ - the only people who had guns were cops, retired cops, drug dealers, gang members, and the mafia.
I now live in central PA, and I'm pretty sure that most banks give away a shotgun when you sign up for a checking account.
Pretty sure I met Lou at some point during the years I worked doing trade shows for NRA and signing up like-minded individuals for memberships. Is he white, Republican, beer drinker...?
Ya all have parents or is this some Lord of the Flies thing?
So when you say you were 12 or 13 you really mean this was yesterday and perhaps your blog is closing because you may have murdered all your neighbors.
I shudder to think of where all those bullets landed!
You should have asked permission before using my archery picture! snort!
Okay, now I can remember when my parents moved me to the country. And there were woods behind our house. And we would hear the occasional hunter. And I would have this fear that the bullets or whatever would come through the walls of the house and kill me. Yep, right through that Bon Jovi poster.
I'm guessing Lou is a survivalist now with a cache of ammo and canned goods and a severe hatred of the government.
I have it on good authority that none of your shots hit Tiger Woods in the junk....
That girl shooting a bow and arrow with her legs. Do you have her number? I want it. NOW.
Boys and their toys. Awesome.
oh my god. I needed that today
ROFLMAO! That's like when the local farm was doing the pumpkin chunkin contest and shot a pumpkin so far it cleared the farm and went to the house behind it. They were like, "Oh, whoops!" I guess it's not really QUITE the same since they were pumpkins and they weren't, like, launching grenades or anything. heh
I seriously can't handle how funny this is. Man, I've missed your blog!
You had me at "All this and not one can of Fix-A-Flat.
And, I LOVE Lou's "walk-in closet".
And, I am amazed at how seamlessly Carrot Top blends into the Fry Guys.
if the "chick comes with the bow I want one...:)
I think it's odd that you didn't notice that the disappearance of the fry guys and Hamburgler seemed to coincide with your hail of ammunition. No wonder McDonald's boycotted your town. Good call on Grimace though, that guy was creepy.
Moooog, you kill me, an dyou don't need a crossbow or ammy for that.
P.S. My 16 yr old is just about to build a shrine for mental poo.
Seriously into the posts I allow him to read.
This one? Had him roaring.
Thanks for the beautiful smile you sent my way today.
So MUCH.
It's a shame you didn't practice behind Ann Coulter's or Rush Limbaugh's house. Could've done your country a heap (or creep) of good.
That's the kind of shit you hear on the police scanner around here. "Reported someone shooting arrows from her house. Says they seem to be coming from the sky."
The pictures & descriptions here just freaking hilarious. Ah, growing up in the Boston area, I know all about you New Hampshire kids.
My cousin Ginny once got my saintly grandma to swear like a drunken sailor with Tourette's by firing an arrow straight up in the air at a family picnic.
Grandma walked up to us shortly after Ginny shot the arrow to ask if either of us wanted any watermelon just as it came back down to earth.
About a half inch away from hitting grandma's foot.
Yeah, my dad claims he'd never heard grandma ever say anything like that before but in my humble opinion grandma swore like she'd invented those words.
Neighbors probably thought it was the zombie apocalypse.
Hahaha...this link was sent to me because I constantly talk about bows and compound bows and crossbows. Last week I shot one for the first time. You can be on my Hunger Games team.
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