There is one thing that I suppose I will never understand about (some) men. Why, oh, why do they feel the need to injure each other in the name of fun? Wrestling in the backyard, headlocks, sports of any kind... I can't even think of all the ways manliness comes out in explosive bursts of testosterone. Like badges of honor, they come home smelling of sweat (and who knows what else) and proudly show off their latest injuries to whoever will pay a modicum of attention.
Ben and his buddy, Gabe, went paintballing today with a bunch of other guys (mostly from the ward). I suppose on some level, I understand why it would be fun to go out into the wilderness and play at war. I fail to understand, however, how getting hit in the head at close range by a paintball doesn't ruin it completely. For those of you who haven't either played paintball yourselves or witnessed the outcome of the carnage, you must be thinking, "What? A little paintball? Pffft!" Oh, you lucky souls who have been spared the awful truth.
A little anecdote: I used to subscribe to Rolling Stone magazine. Several years ago, Johnny Knoxville (of Jackass fame) graced the cover. This guy got famous for allowing his friends to do horrible, painful things to him. The cover of the magazine featured him tied to a bullseye, ready to get splattered by paintballs at close range.
Inside the magazine was a picture of the end result. I must assume that he was shot at VERY close range because those welts are some of the nastiest I've ever seen. (Sorry for the underwear shot.)
When I first looked at this article, Ben was not involved in a paintball group. I remember thinking, "What a complete moron!" Moron, indeed. As I said, those welts on Knoxville are some of the nastiest I have ever seen, but Ben has come home with some rather painful-looking ones himself. Arms, legs, hands, back, ribs, head... they've covered quite a bit of area on my mildly retarded husband. But, he usually comes home happy and well-relaxed. I say usually because there have been times he has come home steaming a little over some idiot who ignores the rules and shoots people at very, very close range or tries going into off-limits territory. And don't let me start on the terrible smell he brings home with him, somewhat like fresh air tainted with mildew and sour sweat.. I don't know.. whatever it is.. it's gross.