My past is perilous, but each scar I bear sings

Monuments to where I have been, and melodies to where I am going

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Reliving Childhood Pt. 2: Gamerz USA and My Abhorrence of Desert Camo Vests
cake or death
I promised this a while ago, but I'm just getting around to it now. I am so lazy/busy.

THAT and I've been fighting with the new LJ format. For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to upgrade, and now I can't find a layout that doesn't make my LJ/linked pictures look like shit. Temporarily I'm giving up on it, because this has been sitting in my queue since March.

I mentioned in the previous post that Lauren and I have been revisiting our childhood. Part two of this masterpiece was laser tagging. We had gone out to dinner one night, and while drinking a massive-sized beer, I mentioned that on Groupon they had this deal for Gamerz, this laser tag place in Westland. She had seen it too, but neither of us bought the coupon because we didn't think we had anybody to go with. WELL THAT OBVIOUSLY WASN'T TRUE, because that next weekend Paul, Steve, Lauren and I went to Gamerz USA and had ourselves a grand old time playing video games and shooting ourselves with imaginary guns.

When we got there, we had to wait a bit to play a round. This downtime turned into the now-usual ticket collecting mission to buy something ridiculous from the ticket counter. We played trivia, we played basketball, we tested our luck at Deal or No Deal, and then quickly discovered that in 10 minutes you pretty much cover everything available at the Gamerz arcade. None of us were particularly sad when they called our names early to shoot your friends with imaginary guns.

My expectations for laser tag were skewed a bit. I remember the packs you'd wear with the sensors on the shoulders, chest, and back, and when you were hit they would light up and tell you who had hit you on the gun display. You couldn't die, but the more you were shot, the further down the list you would be when they would announce the scores after the round. You could pick nicknames, so of course back in 8th grade all the girls were like, "Let's all be fruit! You can be Kiwi, I'll be Strawberry, and you'll be Mango," and so on, and so on... When I was older, I would just hide up in the tower and snipe people. It was awesome.

Dude, his vest is multi colored! How rad is that?!

Anyway, it seems that laser tagging has gotten a bit more hardcore over the years. I had worn all black (in anticipation of the black lights) and my super cute DSW Madden Girl boots pictured here. incidentally, the boots, it seems, are $30 cheaper than what I paid for them, so give me a second to process that...

OK, I'm good now. I call them my running boots because they're ridiculously comfortable and have a nice chunky heel on them. I figured for darting around for 15-minutes, they would be more than fine, they'd be kick ass and stylish, too. What did I end up doing in them? Squatting for 15-minutes behind a pallet filled with Office Max paper and getting hit every 20 seconds by a swarm of 16-year-old boys.

That chick totally doesn't work there.

The audio of this video is horrible, but you can see what we're dealing with here. There were two teams, and we had to shoot against each other. The field was basically littering of random video arcade games, a cop car, and barrels. You hide behind things, move forward, and try to take out your opponents.

The guns looked like machine guns, and despite what you see in the video, you could not tell where you were shooting at all. You had to reload your "bullets" after you fired 100, and mine didn't seem to want to reload, ever. They also didn't have the lights on, so I couldn't see anything either, which meant I was crouching in the overcast light of the one spotlight in the corner opposite us trying to find the little BLACK reload button on the bottom of the gun. The only good thing the darkness provided was a protective blanket shielding how awful I look in camo.

The worst part is after you get hit 10 times, you die! You have to hold up your gun and track down the "mission commander" to reactive your lame-ass dying self. Where the spaced out blonde dude hung out was also where the only spotlight was, so everyone can see you walking up to him, defeated and sucking it up on the battlefield.

My thighs hurt for two days after that. I felt SO OLD. What happened to the cushy, bouncy, running on neon pink and green ramps and owning short little kids by shooting over their heads? WHERE IS THAT LASER TAG?! I wanted it to be a bit more How I Met Your Mother and a little less Saving Private Ryan.

See, THAT would have been legendary.

But the real star of the night was not the laser tagging, my shoes, or my affinity for playing Deal or No Deal. It was The Snake Sword.

We purchased this inflatable gem with the tickets we collected from the arcade games. Upon purchasing the sword (and a ton of temporary tattoos) we pretty much reverted to horny teenage boys.

Yeah, that's about right.

We immediately had to take pictures of ourselves playing with it. It was snowing like crazy that night (when doesn't it snow in Michigan?) so the pictures aren't exactly super awesome, but our enthusiasm, I think, translates well here.

After the sword photo shoot, we headed over to Ashley's to further act like children. We ordered beer, got tipsy, watched the wings game, and took more inappropriate pictures.

This has to be my favorite picture of Paul, ever.

About 30 minutes after we get there, Steve orders a glass of water. The waitress is all like, "You can't drink water, I'll get you more beer!" but after we explained it was for putting on temporary tattoos, she gave us this strange look, made a noise, and hurried away.

It kind of looks like I'm hitting him, but really I'm putting a unicorn tattoo on his face. Yes, it had to be on his face. HE insisted.

That's my boyfriend. I have relations with him. Seriously.


So, what did we learn from this experience, if anything? I think we learned that there is such a thing as a Murtaugh list, but I feel like I'm a bit young not to be able to play laser tag, go to a rave, pierce something, and avoid going to the doctor. I'm not ready to turn myself into an adult just yet. Something about this experience, though, made it abundantly clear that I'm not as physically capable to be "free spirited" as I once was. And that bugs the shit out of me. But this doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to act like a 16-year-old any time soon! I'm in my 20's so I can still get away with it. I guess I'll quit when it stops being endearing and starts making me look sad.

I think I also learned that alcohol can make any experience better.

But most of all, this lesson is the most important:

Beware of the snake sword.

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Agreed. It's still living in my car so at a moment's notice we can break it out again.

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