Pick Up A Shotgun
When I moved from Ft. Worth, I left a job that required me to be on my feet all day, lifting boxes and running back and forth, and came to a job where I spend most of my day posting auctions (read:sitting on my ass). Add to this a fucked up schedule that zapped my desire to cook healthy meals, and I've got 15 pounds to lose. In an effort to be fit, I have fixed my schedule, and added an exercise regimen, but it turns out that all I needed to do to increase my sex appeal was pick up a shotgun.
Yesterday, I had been charged with the task of cleaning various pistols and shotguns. The very second that I picked up the first pistol, I had a crowd of fawning men, fighting to give me weapon cleaning tips. The entire process took more than 5 hours, and while the cast of men changed, the behavior did not. They jostled for position, eager to invade my personal space and demonstrate the proper cleaning technique. Many of them ran to their trucks to get their personal carry weapons. They presented them to me like they were making an offering to the gun-oiling goddess.
By the time I finished the pistols and made my way to the shotguns, the crowd was loud and boisterous. The men formed a semi-circle around me, and discussed my rust removal attempts, and urged me to add more oil to the steel wool so that I might avoid scratching the barrel.
Is this disturbing to anyone else? I know I've made the correlation between my customer's gun love and their penises, but this is ridiculous. Or maybe men really are so simple that the sight of a woman ramming a push rod down the barrel of a pistol gets them all excited, and they don't even understand why. I don't know. What I do know is that in the future, I will clean all weapons in the back room, and avoid the attention. Also, I will practice kick-boxing with more intensity, so that I can thoroughly kick the ass of the next man that invades my personal space.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
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