As of the close of December 6, the Christmas spirit has eluded the Gym Bytch.

I keep hoping that it will jump up and bite me in the ass……….. 

Normally the first weekend of December I go out and get a tree --- there is still Sunday………This morning I woke up and went shooting – yes – that is correct – the Bytch has a FOID card – she also has really cute pink safety glasses and a pink gun case to match!!  Anyway – I went out with two instructors today – in fact one was also a gunsmith – I like to understand the workings of anything I am doing.  Today was handgun day --- I shot a 22, 38, 357, 40 and a 44 magnum.  I like to think that I am a pretty kick ass girl – but that fucking 44 tore up my hands – even with different loads that is an uncomfortable mother fucker.  So if you know anyone with a FOID that wants a chrome plated Smith & Wesson 44 – let me know.  

Ok, shooting did not put me in the Christmas spirit.  So next we went to the bar to warm up, and I ordered Fireball whiskey on the rocks………..while tasty, it did not leave me feeling Christmacy. 

Then I texted with a friend that was about to see the Nutcracker for the first time.  Holy shit!!  If you missed my blog about this last year – you might want to back track and read that one – this is a fucktastical holiday nightmare.  Whoever wrote this was apparently on drugs because nothing says Merry Christmas like rats and walking/singing nut crackers…………I was certain that said friend would not like this show.  When it was over I got a text that simply read “OMG”.  And that was not meant in an “Oh that was spectacular” way. I believe it was more along the lines of “that was almost three hours of my life I will never get back” way.  So my random memories of the Nutcracker left me more horrified than warm and fuzzy.

Normally nothing gets me in the spirit more than buying myself a present – so I tried that.  I took another friend and went to do the paperwork on my two new guns – well that was a goat rope.  My drivers license and my FOID have my old address – my license because when I went to change it, the lovely state of Illinois said “oh, we are not going to issue you a new drivers license, we will just change the address in the system”.  Fuckers.   So I had to go home and find more proof that I live where I live – that just made me cranky.  We went back got it taken care of then went out for a bite to eat and walked right in behind three circus freaks. One giant person with fire engine red hair (except the black roots), an ass the size of Jupiter and fucking stretch pants.  She (and I use the term loosely) was accompanied by something that looked like Raggedy Ann with clown pants on, and something else sporting a beachy shirt and lots of bracelets – apparently I need to get in the mood for Halloween – not Christmas.

All efforts failed today – so I accepted an invitation to go back to the whiskey drinking…………..

Love,

The Gym Bytch