Shot to the heart

Bruised and happy.

The words of an abused child? Not really. The words of a sadist? Maybe. But mostly, it's because I went to paintball. And it was awesome.

It was one of those days where it was ridiculously extreme, weather-wise. The week leading up there have been spontaneous 5 minute pouring rain in the middle of a perfectly sunny day. This day however, was near-hurricane. It wasn't just continuous dribble or sprinklings. Oh no. This was an onslaught and pelting of absolute, giant-mother-of-vmwsv-ifnvsdvn-sized-raindrops. Slanting in and obscuring the already winding and very unfamiliar roads ahead.

So that was a good start to the morning. Or was it the fact that I had to get to Jack's by 7.20, which meant I woke up at 6.30 for the first time in months? Or the fact that somewhere near the end there was a wrong turn and it was hell and a half to get back on the right track? Maybe that.

Then we put on our combat suit which smelled like the sweat of every other previous wearer, ever. The helmet fogged up and my gun in particular malfunctioned at least 3 times.

In all seriousness though, it was great. I think the rain added that extra bit of adventure to it. Even though by the end I was soaked and paint-stained, I loved it. I'm pretty sure I got a maximum of 5 people out and that made me incredibly happy. I HAVE NO HEART OR MERCY. lulz.

Afterwards, we were exhausted and tired and starving. Hungry Jacks in Campbelltown was one of the best meals of my life. Solely because I hadn't eaten all day and it was warm and dry.

Need to go back with a group of at least 15 next time. Please.