Monday, November 05, 2012
Suck Hot Flaming Laser Death
Since I REALLY don't want to think about waking up tomorrow to find my country re/electing an entitled clueless dick, here's some cute kid pictures...
from our local laser tag place.
I took the Boy and his pal Vinnie there Sunday and they romped and raged and blasted the birthday kids with photoelectric death.
I played the first game with them and here's the proof that 22 years of military experience makes you better than 18 random suburban dads, soccer moms, and cake-fueled nine-year-olds at wielding faux electronic weaponry;
I am become Death, Destroyer of Birthday Boys.
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5 comments:
I always knew you were formidable, whether wielding words or laser guns.
Now ... we must get you on "Medal of Honor Warfighter" (*sigh*).
Or "Stars for Stripes".
Honestly, the nonsense we come up with!
True! I guess all men still wish to be heroes, in order to win their maiden fair.
Hmmm. How...tiring.
Particularly when gentle kisses trailing up the side of the throat, and warm hands smooth with lavender oil slowly massaging tired feet, would seem to be perhaps equally effective and much more pleasant.
We value strange things, men.
[Where are my salts ...!]
Well, you get it, my dear. I must say, there is a double thrill involved when a strong man is tender.
"Never seek to tell thy love, / Love that never told can be; / For the gentle wind does move / Silently, invisibly.”
--William Blake
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