I have played paintball and apparently I played the more painful but lame version because it had nothing to do with shooting at cars as they drove by. I walked away with welts and bruises that I was proud to show off for about a week.

My little Spicegurl didn’t sign up for a paintball session, she didn’t deserve this harassment! She was so happy this day; brand new brakes, oil change, soapy bath, and her only crime was to be driving in the wrong neighborhood (clearly all my fault and the guilt that goes with it).

How does this make some cowardly punk feel good? You don’t get to see my pissed off face when I finally notice the hit (that would at least give a person some satisfaction and a quick laugh). You don’t get to see me spend money on paint remover praying that it only takes off the paintball paint and not ruin the finish. You hit me and I drove off unknowingly. Big deal. Boring.

If you are such a great shot on a moving target with a crappy gun, do something courageous and useful, join the military or police. But you won’t. You will hide behind your laziness, your weakness, and never actually LIVE life, but just e x i s t for many years. Too bad for you; you are missing out on some great fun!