During the rather enjoyable paintball experience last weekend, there was one idiot attempting to ruin it with her trashy skills – the mouthy blonde hilljack. She was a problem from minute one, immediately complaining that her mask was fogging up and she couldn’t “get no goddurn towel” to wipe it off with. I looked at the source of this shrill squawking – she was wearing a tank top, which other no than no shirt at all, is the worst possible article of clothing to wear paintballing. She also apparently liked birds, because I was able to see at least three bird tattoos from the limited skin exposed. I have a bald eagle tattoo that I rather like, but it’s kind of diminshed if I get a chicken hawk, emu, and red-crested warbler on my person. Calm down with the birds, lady.
Well, she was just getting warmed up. She proceeded to henpeck the referee into getting her a free popsicle (they were three for a buck…yes, three for a buck) because she “didn’t have no cash.” She then yelled at someone for shooting her in the foot. This would be a legit complaint…if she WASN’T ON A GODDAMN PAINTBALL COURSE TEN FEET FROM THE BOUNDARY LINE! “Maybe you should take some shootin’ lessons!” Maybe you shouldn’t stand ten feet from the edge of a paintball course, stupid! Ever thought…never mind, I said thought…my bad.
She also yelled at the group because a smoke grenade got in her zone and she “couldn’t breathe or see or nothing and that ain’t good!” No, actually, it’s great. In fact, I’m taking out a small loan to buy enough to shut you up at the cost of my personal credit score. Finally, she yelled at the ref to hurry up the game every single time she got out. After all, it’s only about her. I’m also pretty sure she’s the one that shot me in the back of the head. I was going to turn on her and gun her down next game, but the course shut down. If a guy acts like this, I can punch him, but I’m powerless against this harpy. I need to enroll my girlfriend in boxing classes. Then again, that’s a horrible idea. Oh well, at least I have it better than bird lady’s husband. That henpecked eunuch is probably fashioning a noose in his shed as I type this blog. “It’s finally quiet now! It’s finally quiet!”