You can have my heart - when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.

I was going to write about my Valentines' Day present, which was a trip to the shooting range, but Elizabeth covered it better than I could. With as much accuracy as her target shooting. See here:

The only detail she left out of her superior writeup was the weapon we used, a  It was a Glock 9mm pistol. Oh and my own targets. Not as good as hers, but I got the job done:

Really this dude doesn't have anything to be smiling about. When I took a picture of this target tonight I realized just how creepy it is. Look at the slight tilt of the head.

If you know me, you know how I feel about zombies, and about shooting them (i.e., my obsession with Sega House of the Dead, which is largely what gave E the idea to go to the range). I was thrilled to find out you can buy zombie targets at the shooting range. You can also get Osama Bin Laden. And a combination of both: Clearly I need more training for the real zombie apocalypse, when only brains will count, but at least I would've shot the jaw off this zombie/terrorist.

Her heart, my head. Isn't this romantic?