Today, for the first time in my 31 years, I shot a gun. If you know me at all, you know just how odd this statement actually is! I am not a fan of guns or even dangerous power tools! My little "mouse" sander was intimidating, the shrub trimmers downright frightening, and don't even get me started on chainsaws!!! So, me touching a gun, much less firing it, is one for the books. But, like CPR, I feel it is knowledge that I should have, albeit knowledge I never care to use. After going over the basics of guns, gun function, gun safety, gun everything, Stan was off to find my ear protection. When he emerged, he handed over the massive earphones that I had as a child, saying "here, wear these". "These are EARPHONES!" I exclaimed. He said it didn't matter and it was all the same. "But they have a PLUG", I protested. "It's okay, doesn't matter", he said. Uh huh. So, off I went, to have my first shooting experience, wearing the massive earphones, long spiraling cord dangling, plug stuck in my pocket. Terrified, and feeling more than a bit ridiculous, I got my lessons on sighting, posture, stance, etc. before setting my eye on the prize. In this case the "prize" was a yellow milk jug with a black circle marking the spot, that I most assuredly would never hit. "But what if I hurt something?" I asked. "You won't," he said. "I might," I said. "What if I did?" "You won't." My thoughts race as I try my dangdest to get my left eye to close. "It doesn't work," I said. "What do you mean, it doesn't work?" Stan asked. "My left eye doesn't close, only the right one, see..." I demonstrate how I can close my right eye, but when I try to close my left eye, both eyes close involuntarily. We have had this very conversation before, but centered around a pool cue. We move on. As I stand there, I can't help having visions of transforming into some Angelina like sharp shooter! My thoughts are quickly interrupted. "You are aiming high." "You are aiming to the left." "You are aiming low." "Samantha, are you using your sights?" Okay... so maybe sharp shooter is not in my near future. I focus, attempt to steady myself and after asking a zillion questions and procrastinating as long as I could procrastinate, I pull the trigger. "Did I hit it?" I asked this knowing the answer. No. Too high and off to the left. Okay. We do this several more times with varying results until finally that milk jug got so tired it could no longer out run me! Lined up with the black circle, but about 3 inches, give or take, to the right, was a hole! I actually hit it! Go me! So, it wasn't perfect. Whatever, I don't care. Still pretty good for my first time ever trying! I later learn that my "piece" was a Ruger. A .22 caliber Single-Six to be exact! See, I did learn something! Ruger...Why does that sound familiar? Oh my gosh! Its Flo Rida!!!! "Got money on the shooter, am I talking 'bout da Ruger?" Everything triggers a song with me, you should hear some of the stories behind my itunes purchases! When I was interviewing for Pharmaceutical sales I just had to have Curtis Mayfield's Pusher Man! It only made sense. Didn't get the job, but I really like the song. Peace loving, gun slinging, vegetarian... humm.... I might have to write the lyrics to that one.