Fucking Mosin's man. I tell ya, I was filling my car up at a gas station in a bad part of town. While I was out at the pump, a guy with a gun went inside and stuck it in the clerk's face. I wasn't going to get involved, but then I saw him pistol whip this poor clerk, who must have been 75 years old, right in his face. I have my CCW and keep a .40 Sig Sauer P250 in my glovebox at all times. I never even drew it on anyone before that night. I took it to an indoor range every now and then for practice, but I recently bought a Springfield M1A and the range won't let me shoot .308 in there. I had to find an outdoor range to go to, but all of the ones around here required you to join their stupid little club and attend a meeting. I picked one club because they had a 500 yard range, but holy fuck was that meeting a waste of time. No girls to hit on (that was expected), and the coffee/donuts were terrible. I think they just went through a dumpster at Dunkin Donuts and took all of the stale ones that they threw out. I did swipe a jelly donut though and I was able to blow that donut to hell 200 yards out. I was hoping for pink mist because of the jelly but that didn't happen.

Those of you who live in St. Louis might remember hearing about this, I believe it happened in 1997. We were executing a warrant on a guy who was a suspect in a double homicide at a McDonalds robbery a few days earlier. We knew he would be armed, but what we didn't know was that he had barricaded himself in his house with several automatic weapons and a box of grenades. We hadn't called EOD in on this because we didn't think we would need them. But it just so happened one of the EOD unit guys was on the team executing the warrant. I never really got along with this guy though because he would always whistle songs in the locker room but he didn't quite know how they went. For like two weeks straight, he would try to whistle "The Stranger" by Billy Joel but he fucked it up horribly. Finally I got fed up with it so I went and put numbing cream on his lip balm when he was in the shower. It worked like a charm. His lips got so numb that he couldn't whistle. Fucking idiot just thought that his lip balm expired. Does lip balm even expire? I have no idea.

You'll be surprised to hear that Kevin Bacon was the most difficult actorto work with. I was on the crew for Tremors and had to deal with him regularly. You would not believe the shit we had to put up with. I remember one day we were setting up to shoot this scene on location at a rental house in the desert, and I had to run to a hardware store to pick up more extension cords (happens all the time in this job). On my way there, I get pulled over on the Cross Plains Parkway for having "commercial plates" on my Toyota Tacoma. Apparently if your license plate has "Truck" on it, which every pickup truck in the state gets when you buy it, the state considers that a commercial vehicle. Come on, man...I was getting passed by Ford F350's with New York tags, but my tiny little truck that is smaller than most minivans is a commercial fucking vehicle? I got a nice $350 ticket for that one. That parkway sucks ass anyway, I didn't even want to be driving on it. I'd take the Jericho Highway instead if it didn't have 300 traffic lights and four shitty mattress stores on every corner for 20 miles. Who the fuck is Jericho? Some mattress store pioneer or something?

I remember the floor in my parents house looked like your stock. When I was 13, I had just watched Ronin, and I thought car chases were the coolest thing ever. Playing with my matchbox cars wasn't enough. Luckily, my parents, the police, and my neighbor, all still think it was the kid down the street. My dad had a 1968 Shelby GT500 in the garage, and I knew where he kept the keys. He thought I had no idea about his little stash drawer in his closet, but I went through that shit all the time. He kept his weed, porn, even his gun in there. I still have no idea where he kept his bowl for the weed, though. It was never in that stash drawer, which made me think there was an even more secret stash drawer somewhere. I checked everywhere in the goddamn house, even up in the attic. When I was in the attic, I made a shocking discovery. My remote controlled race track set my parents got me for Christmas WASN'T broken. They told me it broke and they had to return it. I later found out that it was just too loud and annoying so they lied to me about it and hid it from me. Fuck them.

Not just weapons fire but Archery can really terrify a crowd, especially during a pep rally, I should know. You see, this one time back in high school we took a compound bow to the giant outdoor pep rally for the big homecoming game. I got the idea of doing that when they tried to have us do archery in gym class but one of the deaf girls in the class accidentally shot an arrow into the gym ceiling. I didn't understand that at all, like, you're deaf, not retarded. Could you not hear where the target was? This deaf girl annoyed the shit out of me because whenever we got to watch movies in class, we had to put on closed captioning for her. I took a history elective class specifically because I heard you got to watch Saving Private Ryan in it, but she was in my class too and the closed captioning pretty much ruined the movie. It said dumb shit like [GUNSHOTS] and [BOMB EXPLODES] - like no shit man you can clearly see bombs exploding and guns shooting. Maybe there are two versions of closed captioning, one for deaf people, and one for the mentally challenged that just explains things happening in the movie to them. Actually that would be kind of cool if they did that because my girlfriend sucks at understanding basic plots to movies.

Air Force pilot here, not sure if this news story made it into the states or not. Several years back, I was on a routine practice bombing run in a F15-E. Typically this involves us loading up a payload of dummy bombs (small or no explosive) and then flying over mock targets and dropping them. That day, however, some fucking jackass doing the loadout wasn't paying attention. The guy seemed pretty hungover, but we all were. The previous day was a big holiday for us with much drinking and open bar. Many of us were hungover mostly from this awful drink the bartender had made. I don't know what this guy's credentials were, but he just made one giant bowl of the most disgusting mojito I have ever tasted. He didn't even offer any other drinks, just that bullshit mojito scooped into cups. I confronted the guy in charge of hiring the bartender for the party and he claimed that the bartender won a bunch of contests for bartending. I find that hard to believe. I could have pissed in a cup and it would have tasted better than those mojitos. The next year we hired a catering company to do the bartending and it was much better.

Looking back at my time in Missouri and buying rifles, I can't believe how fucking retarded we were and how lucky I am to be alive. My best friend in jail for the next 40 years and my other friend is deaf. My friend had just bought this new Weatherby .270 rifle and we took it to our other friend's farm to test it out. Weatherby guarantees sub-MOA at 100 yards, which means that from a hundred yards away, your bullets will all hit within less than an inch of each other. After many beers and hours of shooting holes through pennies at 100 yards, we thought it would be a good idea to do the ol' William Tell shoot-an-apple-off-your-head stunt. Except with beer cans because we shot all of the apples earlier in the day. We even shot the fake apples my friend had for decoration in the kitchen. His wife was pretty pissed about that, but I think bowls with fake fruit in them are the dumbest thing ever. I can't tell you how many times I've been stoked to eat a banana or an apple and find out it is just a piece of wood. Do you see guys putting fake wooden beer bottles in a fridge for decoration? Fuck no. You'd get your ass kicked for that.

I was a maintenance guy for an apartment complex at a college campus near this area. I was repairing an elevator control panel in one of the apartment buildings, when this hot chick comes into the elevator. I tell her the elevator won't be working for another five minutes, she says she lives on the 12th floor and can wait for it so she doesn't have to take the stairs. She starts blatantly hitting on me, asking if I'm single, saying how she didn't know this apartment had "young hot maintenance guys" (I was 24). When I fix the elevator, she asks me if I want to come up to her apartment to have some coffee. It killed me to turn her down, but I had to because they needed me immediately to fix a burst pipe in the basement of another building.

Two days later, I get a ticket to repair a broken fridge in the building with the hot chick. The apartment is on the 12th floor. I get up there, and guess who answers the door in her underwear? Fuck yeah, the hot chick. I only had one other repair job for the morning so I had plenty of time to give her a good dicking. I knew what the other repair job was gonna be. It was this same asshole tenant every fucking week, complaining about the most ridiculous shit. The air conditioner rattles. The sink has a slight drip. The toaster oven takes too long to heat up. That one really fuckin' pissed me off because the apartments don't even come with toaster ovens. This asshole brought his own toaster oven and then tried to get me to fix it. I told him I fixed it but really all I did was cook two of his poptarts in it and eat them. Fuckin' asshole only had the chocolate ones. Those taste like shit but I ate them anyway because fuck that guy.

Fuck man, shit brings back memories. I used to be a bartender at a bar in a shitty part of Philly. We had about 30 cameras throughout the bar, but nobody ever monitored them. The only time we had to use them was if the police requested footage (because of a fight or whatever) or if the place was vandalized. Since I knew how to work the system, I was the guy who had to go through the footage.

So one day we come in to open up the bar, and there is just a ton of blood. Fucking everywhere. On the doors, the walls, the bar top, all over the place. We found a few bullet casings on the floor as well. Searched the whole bar and didn't find anyone there. So I go to pull up the security footage to see what the fuck happened that night while the bar was closed. I went into our computer closet area (where the security DVR as well as all the cable boxes for the TVs are) and had to move a few cable boxes aside to get to the DVR. I didn't realize at the time, but I had disconnected the cable box for one of the main TVs downstairs. One of the other bartenders, who was kind of an idiot, spent twenty minutes trying to get the TV to work before I realized what I did. I told her a common trick to fix this was to take the batteries out of the remote and pour salt on them. As she was doing this, I went and reconnected the cable box. When she put the salted batteries back in the remote, the cable magically turned back on. I've caught her pouring salt on remote batteries three separate times since then whenever a TV isn't working. What a moron.

I used to keep a gun like this in the cab of my truck back when I used to do long ranges. Once while eating at a truck stop at 3 AM, two gunmen with ski masks burst into the place and demanded everyone hand over their wallets. Experience as a trucker has taught me to always have a weapon on me, and on that particular night I was packing the AK behind the seat. I was on a long haul from Indianapolis to Dallas, and I'd be damned if these assholes were going to interrupt my meal. I had ordered steak and eggs but it hadn't come out yet, and I was extremely hungry because my wife didn't pack my food before I had left for the trip. She usually packs my food, but I yelled at her for packing me a fiber bar the previous time. I didn't realize it was a fiber bar and ate it thinking it was a granola bar. Thirty minutes later I am ripping some of the most vile farts known to man, and stinking up my cabin. I never actually took a shit either. I think fiber bars just vaporize your turd into a cacophony of farts until you have nothing left. Needless to say that was the last time I ever ate a fiber bar.