I'm usually a pretty happy guy. I joke about everything, and I deflect with humor, too, so even when I'm not happy I appear happy. I don't generally burden others with my not-happy time.
(Except you guys. You put up with all my pissy little shit, and you don't get mad at me when I say "fuck." What's not to love? Come here; give us a hug, eh?)
Anyhoo, I'm a little freaked out. The short version of the story is that my back is fucked up real bad, and I'm a candidate for spinal surgery. I have a surgical consult next Thursday, and I get to have a provocative discography (or, as I like to think of it, a Living Fucking Nightmare wherein I get injected with something specifically to cause me pain). Needless to say, I've got a lot on my mind.
So, on the way home I noticed that a former Aaron's had been emptied and replaced with a new place called Top Brass Military and Tactical. My curiosity got the better of me. I expected to walk in and see a bunch of full-blown gunshop commando types. Not so.
The place was nice. It didn't have that hole-in-the-wall milsurp store feel to it. The staff was dressed from head to toe in 5.11 apparel, which I pardoned since that brand takes up probably 40% of the floor space in that (surprisingly big-ass) store. Folks were clean-cut and very polite.
I walked around and looked at everything. It was more-or-less like Cheaper Than Dirt opened up the roof and puked in the middle of the store. Everything from AR/AK accessories (even PMAGs! Both with and without windows! And a shite-tonne of 'em!) to MOLLE everything to, what's that? Looks an awful lot like a neatly stacked ~15'x15' pile of ammo cans... Score. Each and every one of them was in Grade I condition. Maybe a couple of dings and a touch of rust on the hinges, but as far as I can tell they all had brand-new seals in them. I bought two .50 cans for $15 each. I'll go back for a few of the $10 .30 cans.
"Hey, Tweaker," you are surely asking, "Why not go ahead and get some .30 cans now?" A fine question, you smart whipper-snappers. I had spent enough money between the ammo cans and my shiny new Streamlight ProTac 2AA that I bought to replace a 2AA Mini-Maglite. Now that was money well spent! It's just a touch smaller than the Mag, and will drop into my Nite Ize Pock-Its XL pointing down (the Mag had to point up). A 120-lumen ray of sunlight screams out at a touch of the button on the back - no more twisty for me! - and, buddy, we're gonna do some seeing!
So there. I spent some money. Got something I needed, and something I wanted. In a pretty cool store. I can haz happy time? Yeth. Yeth I can.
tweaker
Really sorry to hear about your back. Advice from one who's BTDT: Don't, repeat, don't let them perform a spinal fusion unless there's genuinely no other choice. It's a last resort.
ReplyDeleteHow do I know this? Trust me. I know this.
Agree on the spinal fusion. There is no going back once it's done. On the other hand, I can actually feel my fingers again and I don't drop shit because of the "stingers" running down my arm.
ReplyDeleteThe wife is next- four level scoliosis requiring fusion. Back pain that morphine barely dulls. Yeah, I'm tired of hospitals.
Tim