Crude And Distasteful – Do Not Read

I warned you!

Seriously.

Don’t!

OK. Suit yourself, you stubborn fucker.

I really have to stop jerking off.

It degrades my performance when a lady shows up unexpectedly and wants me to take care of business.

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A Day Of Reckoning

It’s been insane around here the last week or so. First, it was the thing that I am still not ready to talk about. Then there were the two solutions out of nowhere to headaches that had been ongoing for some time.

Then today, I got the interview notice for my wife from Immigration. It’s scheduled for the day before Thanksgiving. Looks like I will be spending Thanksgiving 2014 on a fucking airplane over the Atlantic Ocean with a couple hundred of my closest and dearest friends. At least it’ll be over by then. The rest, assuming approval, will be up to her.

Hope I don’t catch Ebola.

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Thank You, God!

Very promising potential solutions to two longstanding issues have materialized out of the blue within the last thirty hours. Please pray that both will go through with no problems.

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Range Trip

This morning after work, I headed to the range to give Annie a workout.  I didn’t bring the bench rest with me.  I learned lots of things, which I have listed below, in no particular order.

I can’t hold the rifle steady to save my life, even with a bipod. 36X magnification drastically exaggerates even the tiniest of movements.

The eye relief window on my scope is VERY narrow.

After working all night, I can’t close one eye without making the eyelid on the other one flutter very badly.  By the time I was able to get the eye relief right, I couldn’t keep the eye open long enough to make the shot.  An eye patch may help this. I was able to make a few shots with both eyes open, but that presented its own set of challenges.

I need a slightly shorter stock in order to be more comfortable (and probably steadier) based on where my head has to be to see through the fucking scope.

I need to learn how to use and properly adjust the cheek weld apparatus built into the stock.

It doesn’t take long to shoot up well over $100 worth of .338 Lapua Magnum ammunition. Thirty rounds will do it.  I shot thirty-five today.

Savage’s muzzle break is awesome. Perfect technique is not required.  She just don’t kick.  If I could afford to, I could easily shoot it all day long.  Standing on either side is highly inadvisable, however.

Hitting the steel plate more than slightly off center with a .338 will knock the entire target, stand, and everything sideways. Or knock it completely down. If I keep shooting steel there, they’ll probably either take it down or mount it in cement.

Despite my difficulties on paper, I was still able to ring steel at both 200 yards and 300 yards consistently, with just the bipod for stability. In other words, don’t stand downrange, because I will hit you.  I might blow your arm off, or I may hit center mass.  Either way, I will hit you.  And it will hurt.  At least briefly.

A bad day at the range is better than a good day almost anywhere else. Notable exceptions include intimacy related activities.

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I Am A Fool

People really fucking suck. Don’t trust anybody.

Recoil therapy to commence this weekend.

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FAIL!

Last week, I changed the brakes on all four corners of B’s car. On the way in to work tonight, she texted me.

My wheel sounds like it’s about to fall off.

Against my counsel, she drove the rest of the way in to work. Her assessment was spot on. All the lug nuts on the driver’s front wheel had backed off a couple turns. I know they were tight when I finished the brake job. I even rechecked them after the test drive. Obviously, they weren’t tight enough. They are now. The next motherfucker to remove any of those wheels better be packing a high end impact ratchet or a three foot length of pipe to use for leverage.

It sucks when a grown man can’t even change a tire correctly.

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Discrepancies

I moved the remainder of my precious metals inventory from my former place of residence to my current abode recently. In the physical inventory that followed, I discovered that I had one more gold dime (1/10 ounce bullion coil) than my records indicated. I like discrepancies in my favor.

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