Violence Makes Me Happy

On Saturday night I found myself slightly drunk, shirtless, and sporting a temporary tattoo on my cleavage. So I did what any self-respecting Danger would do:

I beheaded a pinata bull.

It felt really satisfying.

It was all for my friend's party celebrating her independence from British tyranny and pointless bullshit. I have never been so happy for a divorce to come through. Usually I'm all like, "Divorce? What a shame!" This time I was all, "Fucking A! Good riddance, you English pile of smegma!" We did not get to make his pitiful, sniveling message on the answering machine into a drinking game (he said "How could you do this to me?" about 25 times), but my friend broke out the henna, I won a couple of Smirnoffs, and there were cream puffs and Pepperidge Farm cookies involved. Few combinations in life are more enjoyable.

The party was preceded by a trip to Holiday World, one of the best attractions in Southern Indiana (besides these guys). I thought the soles of my feet were going to burn and peel off onto the concrete in the water park, but otherwise it was good times. I mean, I played Gobbler Getaway and it turns out I really, really like shooting things. A lot. I wasn't that bad at it either, I played with 5 other people (3 were boys, and you know how they like shooting things) and the only time I was beaten was when somebody used two guns and added the points. I am seriously considering going to the shooting range to see how much I like guns. I once shot soda cans with a .454 and did better than a brother, but I thought it was a fluke. Maybe it wasn't! But maybe it was.

Today I had lunch with my mom while she got blood and platelet transfusions, and later a patient threatened to fire me. I'm not saying I am too happy about it, but Item One really helps to put Item Two in perspective.