About a week ago, The Man, told me that he was going to have today off work. I had visions of sleeping in late and a lazy late breakfast dancing in my head. Not to be. He burst my thought bubble with one word. Paintball. Yes, he got up early this morning donning his finest old BDUs (cammo for those who don't speak military) and went to go get shot at by a bunch of other guys in his shop. He offered that I could come too. My response? "So you want me to run around and get shot at? I think not."
Personally, paintball sounds like a "sport" (and I used that term very loosely) that you would only invite your worst enemy to. I mean, you run around and shoot each other with paintballs. Oh it sounds fun enough. However, you have to remember paintballs are actually quite hard. It is like shooting each other with bouncy balls (hahaha I said bouncy balls) at over 100mph. Sure at a slow speed they probably wouldn't hurt, but add a bit of velocity on that sucker and bruises are going to happen. Not only that but there is the risk of injury from the obsticles on the course. Keep in mind that I am a complete klutz. I can just see myself tripping and injuring myself in a nonpaintball induced way. I am sure that a broken bone or stitches would be the result.
So I am sitting here waiting on my husband to return, hopefully all in one piece. I know he is gonna be a mess of bruises and complaining almost as bad as when he has a "man cold". But then, he is gonna tell me how awesome it was and that he wishes he could do it every weekend. Then, I am gonna call him a dumbass and go get him some Advil so he will shut his pie hole. Cause I am a loving and caring wife like that.