2001-05-03 - 5:45 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Y.M.C.A."

Conversation with Poindexter, while washing my face before bed. Remember Poindexter does the laundry.

Evelynne: [Delighted] The Underwear Fairy paid me a visit! There was more clean underwear in my drawer this morning!
Poindexter: Lucky you. The Underwear Fairy visits my drawer and puts holes in my underwear.
Evelynne: That's not the Underwear Fairy. That's the Underwear... Gremlin.
Poindexter: There's no Underwear Gremlin.
Evelynne: Yes, there is. It's like God and the Devil.
Evelynne: Hey, if God is omnipotent and all-powerful, why does he let the Devil exist? Why doesn't he smite him right the fuck down?
Poindexter: God WANTS the Devil. He doesn't want all the people, just the good ones. Think about it. When you die, you don't go to the gates of hell to see if the Devil will let you in; you go to the gates of heaven to see if they'll take you, and if not, you get sent to hell or to that in-between place ... what's it called ...
Evelynne: Purgatory. So God does the weeding out and the Devil takes the rejects.
Poindexter: Exactly.
Evelynne: And the Underwear Gremlin makes the Underwear Fairy look even better in comparison.

Lest any of you think my shooting sucks, since I couldn't hit the exploding target last Sunday, let me tell you that I am, in fact, improving.

I'm getting better at hitting the center of the target. I've almost always managed to hit the target itself, and usually within the rings, but I'm getting more hits on the inner rings now. I still shoot slightly to the left, although not low anymore. I'm trying to figure out why. I have to talk to the range guys and see if there is something I can do to get more centered, or if I should just compensate for this by aiming slightly to the right.

We had one of those big "intruder" targets, that shows a life-size head and torso with bulls-eyes in the head and chest. I put one at the 25-foot mark and emptied an entire clip (10 bullets), in rapid succession, into the chest. Then I did the head. I did a pretty good job, considering I wasn't being anal-retentive about aiming. Even hit the dead center a few times. I was pleased.

And I can usually hit a small plate (salad plate? bread plate?) at the 50-foot mark on the first try. Goddamn, that's fun.

Last night around 5am I had some particularly bad nightmares involving guns. I hate this. It was a series of vignettes in which I either used my gun carelessly or couldn't use it at all. Specifically:

- I dreamt that I was "playing" with the gun (something I would NEVER, EVER do) and accidentally discharged it in the house.

- I dreamt that Poindexter was being attacked, and I didn't have my gun with me.

- I dreamt that I thought there was an intruder, and shot at them. Fortunately I missed, because the "intruder" turned out to be Poindexter.

- I dreamt that there really was an intruder, but I was so frightened that my arms were too weak and my fingers shaking too much to load the chamber.

Argh. Me and my fucking nightmares. I particularly hate the ones in which I engage in behaviors I never would in real life. Playing with a loaded gun?! I wouldn't play with it when it's UNloaded!

This weekend we had the (unloaded) guns out on the table for a while, because my brother and his friend, a Marine, whom I've known since he was a kid, were checking them out. Later I just left them there while we chatted. The Marine said it looked like we were the Sopranos, with guns on the kitchen table. But it got me to thinking about this surprisingly prevalent idea that guns are going to just go off and hurt people. Even I have a weird superstition in the back of my head. Guns are dangerous; there's no doubt about that.

But it's silly. An unloaded gun and two clips, sitting on a table in a house with responsible, gun-familiar people in it, is about as dangerous as a car sitting in a garage with the key on the seat. The car is not going to start itself and begin mowing people down, unless it is Christine. In fact, the car will not be used to mow people down unless a madman or idiot gets ahold of it. It's the same thing with the gun.

So, something coincidentally funny happened to Poindexter yesterday.

He was calling a company to purchase an accessory for the projector we're buying. He reached a secretary first, who asked who was calling, and he gave her his full name. She transferred him to someone more technical, with whom Poindexter had this snippet of conversation after Poindexter decided the gizmo was what we needed:

Poindexter: What's your return policy?
Tech Guy: Oh, for you, we'll just send you one.
Poindexter: Oh... Um. Great. I just wanted to make sure I could send it back if it turned out not to suit my needs?
Tech Guy: Oh, yeah. No problem.
Poindexter: All right. How do I go about ordering it?
Tech Guy: Let me transfer you to Susan.

So Susan takes our address, no mention of price or payment information.

Poindexter: Um, can I confirm the price I have?
Susan: Oh, sure, hang on a second, let me... over here, I think.... OK its $120.
Poindexter: Yeah, OK great.
Susan: So you wanted this on a trial basis?
Poindexter: Well, I can pay for it now, I just wanted to make sure I could return it if I needed to.
Susan: OK, why don't I just send it out and mark it a "30 day, return or purchase."
Poindexter: OK.

And that's it. No credit card number or anything.

Needless to say, Poindexter was somewhat shocked. He IM'd me and told me the story, which I thought was weird.

A little while later, he gets a phone call from Susan. "Hello, I'm sorry, there's been a misunderstanding..."

Apparently the Tech Guy Poindexter spoke to has a friend or acquaintance with the same first and last name. Tech Guy believed he was speaking to The Other Poindexter, hence the liberal 30-day trial. They discovered the mistake when Susan brought the information with his address in, and Tech Guy realized that Poindexter was living in the wrong state, and must be a different Poindexter altogether.

Poindexter, of course, laughed his ass off for about five minutes. Susan said, "I bet you were thinking, 'What a bunch of nice, trusting people!', huh?"

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