Happiness is a warm gun

Yesterday I went to a gun shooting range with The Colonel, and a couple of people he knows. I'm a bit of a wuss when it comes to guns and am always scared I will do something ADHD. Basically some kind of thoughtlessness that ends up with me shooting myself. I have two handguns of my own and am trying to get some practice using them to build confidence. Handguns are legal here in the USA and I think they are a great equilizer. God did not make all men equal, guns did.

I have named my guns Sigfreid and Roy. One is an FN, the other a Taurus. Both 38 Calibre and have a bit of a kick, but nothing I can't handle, wimpy as I am.

So I am at the gun range, trying not to be a Miss Polly Prissypants, acting like I am not scared of guns, but couldn't help involuntarily jumping whenever a large calibre weapon was fired. So much for acting 'cool'.

I spent some time talking to the lady who came shooting with us. It was the first time I had met her and all was going well. We were going to a pizza place after the shooting and I happened to say that I only went shooting for the pizza, just trying to be a bit funny. Oh why oh why do I try to be funny when I know it will all end in tears??? After talking to her for a good while, I realised that I had crumbs stuck to my face. I had eaten half a sandwich earlier as a morning tea. Crumbs on my face, making me look like some urchin, hobo, or even worse, some ill-mannered piglet who after stuffing one's face, couldn't even be bothered wiping away all the leftovers.

I managed to pick myself up and recover from this slight contretemps and got through the rest of the day, only to get home and realise that I had been wearing two very different earrings. My hair is back off my ears, 'showcasing' the ill-matched pair, one big brilliant cut, the other smaller, square and old mine cut. Very noticeably contradistinct. So these people I had just met must have thought I was a complete imbecile. Talking about food, covered in crumbs, with un-matched earrings, how embarrasing can things get?

Considerably more embarrasing I would say when one lives life as Countess Chichi. There was this one time in Italy for example, where I went to the bathroom and came out with a long, long line of toilet paper that extended over the top of my jeans and hung down. I had workmen in the street telling me in Italian about it. Did I stop to listen? No, I was thinking that they were 'hitting' on me based on my considerable pulchritude. How deluded I was. I had a friend drive me to Switzerland for some outlet shopping and when I got out of the car HE told me there was something there. I had to remove a long piece of toilet paper on the spot and to be quite honest, was hoping the earth would swallow open and swallow me up right then and there.

It's one embarrasing moment to another.