Number One with a Bullet

My whole upper body hurts. I have a wound on my chest and a bruise on my waist. My arms and neck have red marks spattered over them. My right cheek aches when I touch it and my hand is scraped up.

But you should see what I did to him . . .

Hahaha!!! Just kidding.

Never mind what I'd like to do to a few men I know . . .

I am truly blessed in my work in that every once in a while, I get to go to the firing range to play. Sure, it takes a lot of concentration, focus, and even a little pain, but damn! is it fun. Being out in the fresh air, burning up ammo, and blowing targets to bits (and getting paid for it!) is really as good as it gets. You get beat up (the slight injuries above are the result of hot brass, holster wear, and 13 rounds from a shotgun), but it's so worth it for the sheer release, and how utterly spent you feel afterwards.

Kind of like other activities . . . ;)

Going back into the office today was a complete buzzkill after playing Annie Oakley for 3 days. Some crappy stuff happened and I ended up needing a really good run when I got home. So I literally pounded the pavement, pretty much tearing apart what was left of my body. I won't lie - there is a lot of internal pain and turmoil going on right now, and the only way to subdue it is through physical pain . . . it's funny how exercise and the phenomenon known as "cutting" serve the same purpose, yet exercise is much more socially acceptable. How many exercise nuts are really just crazy people torturing their bodies so they don't have to deal with the torturing of their souls?

Wow, was that deep.

I desperately need the sleep I am not getting right now. Tomorrow will be a loooong day. Here's hoping my weekend lives up to the hype . . . and that this funk I'm in passes . . . and that my smartass ways don't get me into trouble!