Yeah, I know, haha.

Seriously, I don’t think guns should be accessible by the general public except in the most controlled circumstances, and I HATE sport hunting. That being said, when I was in the military I discovered I had a minor talent for shooting, and while I haven’t had the opportunity since I left the army I’ve often thought about trying it again.

So, fast forward to a couple of months ago. Jeff found a package deal for an indoor firing range on Social Shopper and picked it up, and we just kind of kept it in our back pocket until we had the time and opportunity. As you can guess, that was today.

We got a zipcar and hauled out to Port Coquitlam (frigging FAR, holy cats) around noon, right after they opened. This range’s setup is my version of an ideal way to handle firearms: you’re buzzed in and then out when you’re done. All weapons stay on site, and you have your own rangemaster right there while you’re plinking away. Nobody gets hurt, because there is no opportunity for anyone to get hurt.

We were set up with our package deal for .22s, but I upgraded to a 9mm, and I requested the Sig Sauer P226 because I’d used it before. Jeff stuck with a .22 target pistol.  When I was in the CF I used the C-7 assault rifle, the C-6 heavy machine gun and the C-9 medium squad machine gun. However, I had limited handgun exposure and that was over ten years ago, so I wasn’t sure how good I’d do. Jeff’s experience was limited to a .22 rifle a few times when he was a kid.

Anyway, I did okay:

Jeff wasn’t impressed with his .22, and kind of gave it a pass after a couple of magazines- he took this while I finished out my box of rounds:

We had a good time, but I think Jeff will upgrade to a 9mm if we go back. So yeah, in conclusion I am a card-carrying anti-gun guy who enjoyed a day at the range. I think it’s a harmless hobby if it’s done right. And next time I’m totally gonna try the .45!

I’m embarrassed to say though, I’m friggin’ terrible at playing video games.  That’s annoying, being interested in something you have zero aptitude for.  What’s worse though is that Jeff is a freakin rock star at gaming, which he has zero interest in.

Since we met, whenever I got to part of a game that I was stuck at, say Lara Croft couldn’t swing onto the alligator or Guybrush Threepwood couldn’t open the vault, I would try for an hour with ever increasing levels of frustration and blood pressure.  Then I’d come to my senses and shamefacedly hand over the controller to Jeff, who usually had never played the game before.

I’d explain the concept, he’d look at the controls, peer at the screen, and press a few buttons.  Then, a “tada!” sound would come from the tv, he’d hand back the controller and go back to building a website or programming a mainframe or whatever else he does on his laptop.

So yeah, you can understand why I’m pretty much done with anything that involves extra lives or combo moves.  I can still beat Jeff at some things, though.  I just need some time to figure out what those things might be.

Like punchbuggies.

If you’re between the ages of 1 and 100, you know the game- give a shot in the arm to your buddy when you see a VW Bug.  No big.  Jeff and I though- we’re Olympic level punchbuggers.

I have just now decided that we need a new name for that.

Anyhow…  So, we have extra rules.  Double-hits if the Bug is close but nobody’s noticed it.  Double-hits if it’s a classic.  Also double-hits if I had a bad day or if Jeff said something snarky.

So, we have the game.  Yesterday, I was walking Jeff and Rum home from their office and spotted a lime-green Bug zooming down Helmcken Street, and gave Jeff the customary “punchbuggy green, no punchbacks” and gave him a shot in the arm.  He turned around  too late to see the Bug.

Jeff politely inquired to my about whether there really was a green Bug.  I politely confirmed my previous smack was correct and offered to kick him in the butt for doubting my honesty.

“Besides,” I continued, “when have you ever known me to fudge a punchbuggy?”

Jeff stopped and looked at me for a minute, with that old familiar look that says “there’s something truly filthy within arm’s reach of that phrase, I just can’t find it.”

I nodded.  “Yep.  Fudge a punchbuggy.  We gotta find something really rude to apply this to.”

Suggestions?  Maybe, “lie to you?  I’d sooner fudge a punchbuggy.”  How about “I’m so hungry I could fudge a punchbuggy.”  My favourite so far is “I was so drunk I think I fudged a punchbuggy.  Now I have to go to the free clinic and get tested.”

The English language is just poetic, no?

BTW, we also have a game where we kick each other in the ass every time we see a Porsche.  Not even kidding.

It’s always well lit in the park because of the regulation size soccer fields, which are so in-demand that they’re used pretty much every night. Soccer games and tournaments are the most popular of course, but there’s no shortage of Ultimate games and tourneys, baseball and softball games, and even football occasionally. I find it hard to bitch about the rain in December, January and February when there’s a hundred teenagers running around in shorts and t-shirts from dawn to dark every frickin’ day!

January 5th, 2010 - Like every other day in the park.