Welcome to The Gun Show

No, not my biceps, because those are weaker than spaghetti noodles, but actual guns. I've shot them before, in Nevada-where you can carry around a fully automatic AK-47 like it's war-torn Africa and you're running a military coup and nobody looks at you twice, but never in my real, everyday life. I suppose it's useful to know how to shoot one even if I have no desire to ever own one; I mean, should the Zombie Apocalypse ever come to pass, I'm not trying to get eaten.

Anyway, we went Downtown to the LA Gun Club to finally properly celebrate Mark's birthday and indulge in some lighthearted machismo. It's sort of terrifying (scratch, totally terrifying) to be that close to a bunch of lethal weapons being handled by strangers in such a small, enclosed space and I must have flinched a dozen times hearing guns fire within the first minute of stepping inside the booth, with headphones one. I mean, one of the rules is you can't come in if you're preggers because the noise will damage your fetus...Still, with targets that have zombies on them, a weird photo of a dude hiding behind a dumpster with a knife, or an armed guy holding a woman hostage, there's some fun to be had in between the heart palpitations. I think even the guy helping us pick out our weapons and explain how they worked while we yammered on about killing zombies and trying out the "Raging Bull" had fun asking us if we had any questions while we stood there with blank looks on our faces. Sure we'll remember the ten steps to loading that weapon...of course! Well, we must have because our ammo is gone, our targets are decimated (sadly, the hostage didn't make it), and we all made it home without any holes in our bodies.

Somehow, I was able to handle this monster easier than a 9MM. Both scared the crap out of me though.