Happiness Is a Warm Gun

My friend Tracy just bought her first gun...a revolver. I am jealous, to say the least. To me, there is nothing sexier than a woman who knows how to use a gun. Imagine...her Ladyship, the great Lara Croft (as depicted by the incomparable Angelina Jolie, of course).

My gun of choice happens to be the mini glock (9mm). It's compact, comfortable and packs a rather wicked punch. I, however, rent my guns instead of owning my own.

Here is where the royal act of patience enters...after 14 years of renting, I have finally resolved to buy myself one for my next birthday. What a present, right? Now keep in mind, I am not a hard core feminist by definition but I do have a strong belief that women should know how to use a gun. Not only do I hold this belief because I want you to be able to defend yourself (honestly, men these days...they're not exactly the knight in shining armor type), but holding that much intensity in the palm of your hand is very empowering. For me, blowing through a box of ammo is an incredible form of stress relief. There is a massive amount of concentration involved and when you're done, you can't remember what stress brought you there in the first place. It's very cathartic. Let me explain...first, you pay your range fees, meanwhile ignoring the giggles of the men folk who don't think you belong there (bloody imbeciles), strap on your goggles and ear protection, load your gun, hang your target and commence to blowing every tiny, little piece of your lousy day away. Have a blast...literally. Trust me, few things come close to the thrill you get from feeling cold hard steel rip through your hands. It's magnificent.