Throughout our lives, we makes some acquaintances and friends. Sometimes it’s easy to tell the difference between the two; other times it is a little more hazy. When dadums and I went through our tattoo stage (okay, dadums may still be in it), we met Bear and Bonni. Absolutely incredible people! If you want an awesome tattoo or piercing, go no where else. Bonnie even does some snippin' in the back room. Believe none of the competitors’ – there are no exceptions to perfection. (Okay, maybe we’re a little biased.) Dadums' has had work by Bear, Sam (no longer there) and Chris, while KVS and I have had piercings from Bonni and Amanda. Below is a story I shared with Bear through email. I hope you enjoy it as much as he did.
Nell’s New Tazer
Last weekend I spied something at Larry's Pistol and Pawn that tickled my fancy. (Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled). I bought something really cool for Nell. The occasion was our 5th wedding anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweetie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing out--way too cool!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-a batteries in the thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin' directions), I found, much to my chagrin, that this particular model would not create an arc between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs I was so looking forward to. I did so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arc of electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yipeeeeee . . I'm easily amused, but I have yet to explain to Nell what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-a batteries, etc.,etc. There I sat in my recliner, my dog Woodley looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Woodley) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping Woodley for a fraction of a second then thought better of it. He is such a sweet dog, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to Nell to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time... So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient the assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. All the while I'm looking at this little device (measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-a batteries) thinking to myself, "no friggin' way!" What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. I'm sitting there alone, Woodley looking on with his head cocked to one side as if to say, "don't do it buddy," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ol' thing couldn't hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: a bad decision is like hindsight--always twenty-twenty. It is so obviously a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. Don't ya hate that?) I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY SHIT! Daaaammmmnnnn!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. The dog was standing over me barking like I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to himself, "do it again, do it again!" (Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Tazer, one note of caution. There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you're lucky, you won't dislodge one of the Prongs 1/4" deep in your thigh like yours truly.) SON-OF-A-BITCH that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs, give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure. By the way, has anyone seen my testicles? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. They're round, rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome if I must say so myself. Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back." "Education is no substitute for intelligence."
Nell’s New Tazer
Last weekend I spied something at Larry's Pistol and Pawn that tickled my fancy. (Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled). I bought something really cool for Nell. The occasion was our 5th wedding anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweetie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing out--way too cool!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-a batteries in the thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin' directions), I found, much to my chagrin, that this particular model would not create an arc between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs I was so looking forward to. I did so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arc of electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yipeeeeee . . I'm easily amused, but I have yet to explain to Nell what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-a batteries, etc.,etc. There I sat in my recliner, my dog Woodley looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Woodley) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping Woodley for a fraction of a second then thought better of it. He is such a sweet dog, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to Nell to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time... So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient the assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. All the while I'm looking at this little device (measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-a batteries) thinking to myself, "no friggin' way!" What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. I'm sitting there alone, Woodley looking on with his head cocked to one side as if to say, "don't do it buddy," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ol' thing couldn't hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: a bad decision is like hindsight--always twenty-twenty. It is so obviously a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. Don't ya hate that?) I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY SHIT! Daaaammmmnnnn!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. The dog was standing over me barking like I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to himself, "do it again, do it again!" (Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Tazer, one note of caution. There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you're lucky, you won't dislodge one of the Prongs 1/4" deep in your thigh like yours truly.) SON-OF-A-BITCH that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs, give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure. By the way, has anyone seen my testicles? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. They're round, rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome if I must say so myself. Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back." "Education is no substitute for intelligence."
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