In Advocation of Self Defense

For those of you reading this, I'd like to start out by saying that I own a punching bag and I have a lot of pent up anger. In case you happen to be a crazed stalker, I also have access to multiple police officers and guns.

Okay so for those of you who aren't crazy serial killers or stalkers, let's be honest. My training of self defense comes from one too many late night movie sessions of Miss Congeniality and a slight obsession with NCIS, Law & Order, and crime scene shows. The part about punching bags, police officers, guns and anger was right, though.

Growing up in a small mountain town where everyone knew everyone, I was never really in fear of my safety. Of course there was the random stranger that would make you think twice about walking alone at night, but for the most part, I always felt 100% safe. My parents never owned guns, although I feel like my dad knows how to operate one given that my uncle owns them and claims to be a pretty good shot. The only real weapon that we had in our house was my Grandpa Ken's Navy sword. That thing was a beast. Any time I was home alone and a leaf so much as fell too loudly outside, you can bet your booty I made a bee-line to that sword. Oh, and we had golf clubs, but the only time those were ever used as self defense was the time that I was walking out to my car and saw a snake eating my favorite fish, Blue, out of the pond. Blue didn't make it, but then again, neither did the snake....or probably the golf club for that matter. Like I said, I have a lot of anger.

When I went to college, there was never a real time that I felt a lot of fear either. Aside from people stealing from unlocked cars and the guy who liked to expose himself to female students, campus was pretty uneventful. Not to mention that my entire 4 years I was best friends with the majority of the Theta Xi fraternity and always had an escort back from a party if it was too dark outside. Oh gosh, I totally forgot, and he'll laugh if he ever reads this. The only time that there was ever a concern for my safety was when we thought my ID card was stolen, and security and the police were out looking for a guy described by my sorority sister as "a college student with short blondish hair and a West Point sweatshirt." Long story short, our school had issued the same ID number to both myself and poor Josh. Needless to say it was a story recounted many times over the rest of our college careers.

After graduation from college and the realization that not everyone is out to be my friend, I have decided that I want to not only learn how to defend myself, but I want to learn how to shoot a gun. I've shot two guns in my entire life, both under the keen supervision of my friend Carson, a Marine who served three tours and was a gunner on the top of the hum-vees. It was three Christmas's ago off the back of the cabin that our parents own together up in the mountains, and I shot a shotgun and a .45....at a snowman. Needless to say, the only one who shot the Budweiser can off Frosty's head was Carson. I couldn't hit the broad side of a snowman with the .45 if I was 10 feet away...which I nearly was. It was embarrassing.

So this whole rambling about self defense brings me to a funny story that I will end with today. Last night after I finished working out in our living room, I decided to practice my self defense moves with Brian. I have been watching "Disappeared" and am beginning to realize if I am ever kidnapped, the only hope I have of being let go is my annoying the kidnapper with my big mouth. As a wrestling coach, Brian is experienced in "pinning" a person to the ground, so I was hoping that maybe I could learn how to un-pin myself. Yeah well. Fail. Not only did he succeed in making me not able to breathe by compressing one of my lungs, I moved my arm too fast in an attempt to un-pin myself that I nearly broke my elbow. Luckily it turned out that I just beat the crap out of my funny bone, which was not, in fact, funny at all. My arm is still slightly tingling nearly 14 hours later.

Moral of the story: Do not wrestle with Brian. Also, expect to hear more about my adventures trying to learn how to safely and effectively discharge a weapon. Concealed carry permit HERE I COME!