Disneyland with guns

I woke up at 4:30 this morning, way too early for a Saturday. Karen and Mark picked me up at 6 and we had to roust Jonnie out of bed. The poor lad works graveyard shift and he had worked part of it last night and then gone home for a few hours sleep. We wended our way swiftly down to Brownsville to the Oregon Firearms Academy.
Basic Firearms Safety course.
Disneyland with guns, as one of our instructors put it.
We met Nicole in the parking lot. Here we are, at the beginning of the day, looking relatively normal.

First on the agenda was a trip to the loo.
Which was unusual, to say the least.

Note the details, such as the valance around the ceiling.
Of the porta-potty.

Mind you, I did hear that the boy's loo wasn't so pretty.
Not that I would know firsthand or anything.

We sat for four hours in the morning, learning all about safety. Luckily, the instructors were quite entertaining. There was a guy, named Tom, who needed to shut up, but I managed to restrain myself and I didn't say it to him. But seriously, why is there always one of those in the class?
Lunchtime finally arrived.
Here is Mark, who ingeniously (and kind of nerdily) took a little camping stove with which to warm up his Campbell's soup.

After luch, outside to the range.
Hooray!
We then proceeded to find all kinds of ways to look berky.

I was hoping to get photos of us looking awesome, shooting our guns, but I was too busy looking awesome, shooting my gun.

Even the outside of the porta-potties was cool.

Here I am, on the SECOND walk-through for my graduation. The first one was too fast for the camera.

Oh yes, I asked them what you call a girl redneck.
"What?" they replied.
No, I said, I really want to know. They had thought it was a joke.
The answer?
Sweetheart.
Now we know.