Well, Phoebe (my cat) knows something really wrong. She won't leave my side. An ominous sign, I think. Maybe it's just my stress about my surgery tomorrow. This shit SUX.
One of my Oncologists says I'm NOT getting worse...which means I'm not getting better, either. But perhaps after this surgery, and the one on Friday- two in one week! yay!
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The DE's make stout cartridges feel pretty tame, but I was at the range once, and there was a guy with a Colt Anaconda, in.44 Mag. He'd loaded it with some of his hot handloads, and after one shot, handed it back to him (the guy said, "Hey, you can shoot the entire cylinder," to which I replied, "No, thanks! I value my wrist and one was enough!") I can handle pretty stiff cartridges, but that thing just wasn't fun to shoot. The time I got to shoot a Barrett .50 cal was really cool though, but they've got a muzzle brake the size of a pumpkin on the end of the barrel (and I had to give the owner $5 to pay for the cost of one cartridge. It was totally worth it though!)
I actually played a really dirty trick on my brother once: The first time I ever took him shooting, I took my Winchester 12g because he wanted to shoot it. I loaded up two regular 2 3/4" shells of birdshot, and then loaded a 3" magnum slug behind them. He didn't know I put one in there...until the third shot, when that thing kicked him in the shoulder and left this nasty bruise on his collar bone, and nearly broke a tooth when it slapped his face. Had I known he was holding it all wrong, it probably wouldn't have been quite as funny as it was...
Actually, I'm lying: it still would've been hilarious!
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hehehehe, but the story of your brother! that's classic!
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