Catskills. Weekend 2. Nine of us journeyed upstate after the blackout rendered NYC useless. Randy's got a stellar recap of the 100 beers that brought us to what you'll see below, while LasagnaFarm has a quick writeup of the aftermath.

Note: Due to broken digicam (damn you, blackout!) all these photos are morning-after shots that I snuck in using Randy's digi. Wihch is probably for the best since late night got pretty ugly.


You see, Andy bought a pellet gun. It stands on the mantle when it's not being used to shoot shit up.


These are the pellets it shoots. They're like little darts. They could probably break skin if you took aim at someone. We haven't tried that yet. Next weekend.


Late night the picnic benches turn into rifle ranges, empty bottles turn targets.


The game: Six bottles. Sixty seconds. Twenty feet away. The clock starts when the trigger is pulled - you can reload as many times as you see fit within those sixty seconds.

Note: That's 10 seconds per reload, per shot, per bottle. No room for error here, kids.


The result is lots of broken glass.


Exhibit A.


Exhibit B.


Exhibit C.


Exhibit D.


Exhibit E.


View from above the rail.


View from below the rail.


We kept score, of course, through the three rounds of skeet shooting action. Jeff came out the big winner, shooting four of six in the final round. Hold on and reflect upon that for a minute... four bottles in sixty seconds = crazytalk. (Rumor has it he shattered two with one shot!)

AK staged a comeback after a luckluster first round. Tully opted out in the early rounds. Randy stayed outside for an additional half an hour trying to break all six after the contest concluded. I just plain suck.

Note: I have no idea who NES is.


Andy. Next morning. Cleanup.

We spent a good hour collecting glass shards from the deck and grass.


Shrapnel. Apparently the pellets compress when they ricochet off glass.


Post-cleanup. Breakfast as normal. I had Trix.