I have this thing for unbelievably hot women who carry around and fire ridiculously heavy ordinance. I'm not saying that this isn't in some way cro-mag or emotionally remedial . . . I just can't help myself. I see a good looking woman blowing things up and I'm telling you I go nuts. My heart rate starts to rise, and I turn into a pool of jello--I mean massively weak at the knees like some pimply faced retard at the junior high dance. My tongue gets heavy and I forget how to sew together words into anything but inarticulate monosyllabic grunts and groans. . . until I get a gun in my hand and start shooting too. And then I. Am. Adonis. Love is a moving target.