Big guns

Guys like big guns.Who can blame them – big guns represent power, vitality, life. They are sexy and give us confidence. Wait…what do you think I’m talking about here?? I’m talking about rifles, shotguns, pistols. You are all dirty minded fools. Well sorta.

I’m actually a fan of revolvers. I like the weight in my hand and the fact that despite the 2 lbs of titanium plates including 8 screws in my wrist from a horrible roller skating accident (I can’t make this shit up, I swear!), I can pull the trigger and shoot to kill.

Of course, I live in liberal northern California, where we don’t actually shoot anything but paper targets but if I channel my inner Suz, I can pretend I’m there with her on her ranch.

Fade to close… Suz and I are wearing camo, head to toe. We’ve greased our faces, and are sporting leaves and other wildlife in our hair. Our boots are tightly tied, and our guns are cocked. It’s 6:00a in the morning, the sun is not even thinking about rising yet. We’re camped out in a deer hide eight feet up. We’ve peed already so we’re relaxed and ready. Focused. The bucks begin scampering through the forest… looking for food…

OK, so I am a suburban chick who wouldn’t harm a spider (ok, I lie, but I wouldn’t harm a mosquito-eater) so the fantasy stops there. At least for me. Suz however is an NRA-certified rifle instructor. She and another gal pal take city dwellers out into the country and make men of them. Or better women at least.

She’s one bad-ass chick who can shoot the eye out of a spider at 30 yards. Ok that’s a lie. But she does hunt, and she does get away with it on her ranch. Suz is about 5’ 7”, dark auburn hair, deeply tanned, wide smile and eyes that will pin you down and knock you out. She is a take-no-prisoners chick. So when her ranch was invaded by the locals, she fought back, and won. With a Glock in one hand, her Smith and Wesson in the other, she charges out the door shooting up wayward critters intent on wreaking havoc. I won’t judge her for shooting squirrels – but Sparticus, my doggly did. He thought that was wrong. “I can watch those squirrels run up and down and across the trees all day. When they hit they ground, I’ll chase them down and bark them back up. It’s oodles of fun Mommy. Why does Suz kill the fun ones?” So I guess he doesn’t quite understand her point of view on the squirrel subject.

I often imagine what it would be like for Suz to meet the Nug. They have a lot in common and both are very cool, if not eccentric with the whole hunting thing. The Nug is well known for his mayhem, outspokenness and bad-ass Bronco. If he met Suz, he’d fall in love. Alas.

I’ve often fantasized what it would be like it we threw out the law on abusive, adulterous husbands who toss you out to fend for yourselves in the wild. Would it be similar to sport hunting, albeit with lots ‘o cause? Right or wrong, there’s something quite delicious about fantasies involving big guns. I’m just saying.