Paintball Quotes

Anyone who would wear all white like that clearly had issues. Just looking at him made her wish she had a paintball gun, but hell, you couldn’t pack for every eventuality.

We are adults undertaking a team-building activity in a professional capacity, so naturally we spend several minutes horsing around, striking poses with our paintball guns and making sound effects. Joshua and Sergeant Paintball watch us like orderlies at a mental facility.

Can't I just shoot you in the ass with paintball pellets? Those fuckers hurt. I'm an expert marksman with firearms. I could turn your ass red, green, blue, whatever the fuck color you want.

Buy Experiences Not Goods. Want to buy happiness? Then spend your hard-earned cash on experiences. Go out for a meal. Go to a concert, cinema or theatre. Go on holiday. Go and learn how to pole dance. Go paintballing. Go bungee jumping. In fact, get involved in anything that provides an opportunity to do things with others, and then tell even more people about it afterwards. When it comes to happiness, remember that it is experiences that represent really good value for money.

looked over at the campfire, where three party ponies were teaching Tyson to operate a paintball gun. I hoped they knew what they were getting into.

The best part of having superpowers is that most of the time other people do not even know that you have them— like when Peter Parker goes paintballing, people just think he is a really awesome paintballer, and he totally gets away with using his Spidey senses, and when Aquaman is on OkCupid, and he says he spends a lot of time thinking about global warming, people just think he’s a conscientious dude, and on the days that I get out of bed and put on appropriate workplace attire and eat three meals, none of which are Hot Pockets, people can’t even tell that right then, at that moment, I am using my superpowers. Anxiety is your body’s response to perceived danger and mine is so strong you would have to call it a superpower. It never gives up; It is always looking for a fight; It is the fiercest part of me.

Centaurs!” Annabeth yelled. The Party Pony army exploded into our midst in a riot of colors: tie-dyed shirts, rainbow Afro wigs, oversize sunglasses, and war-painted faces. Some had slogans scrawled across their flanks like HORSEZ PWN or KRONOS SUX. Hundreds of them filled the entire block. My brain couldn’t process everything I saw, but I knew if I were the enemy, I’d be running. “Percy!” Chiron shouted across the sea of wild centaurs. He was dressed in armor from the waist up, his bow in his hand, and he was grinning in satisfaction. “Sorry we’re late!” “DUDE!” Another centaur yelled. “Talk later. WASTE MONSTERS NOW!” He locked and loaded a double-barrel paint gun and blasted an enemy hellhound bright pink. The paint must’ve been mixed with Celestial bronze dust or something, because as soon as it splattered the hellhound, the monster yelped and dissolved into a pink-and-black puddle. “PARTY PONIES!” a centaur yelled. “SOUTH FLORIDA CHAPTER!” Somewhere across the battlefield, a twangy voice yelled back, “HEART OF TEXAS CHAPTER!” “HAWAII OWNS YOUR FACES!” a third one shouted. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. The entire Titan army turned and fled, pushed back by a flood of paintballs, arrows, swords, and NERF baseball bats. The centaurs trampled everything in their path. “Stop running, you fools!” Kronos yelled. “Stand and ACKK!” That last part was because a panicked Hyperborean giant stumbled backward and sat on top of him.

Bongo's sobs are hurled out like paintballs from a skirmish gun until the force diminishes into a trickle of sobs that wind up the exorcism.

It must have been Josh. He's up there with the paintball bow," Michael called up to her. A what? How come I don't get one of those? I'm up here shooting this junky thing like an idiot, while he's over there taking out my boyfriend from across the field like some kind of assassin.

But I see good grooming and feminism as entirely complementary. For some, beauty is a matter of pride and self-respect, of feeling your best and worthy of attention. While a man with an interest in football, wine, Formula 1 or even paintballing would never see his intelligence called into question, a woman with an interest in surface is perceived to have no depth.

October 16, 2009 Avengers Paintball, Inc. 1778 Industrial Blvd. Lakeville, MN 55044 Esteemed Avengers, This letter recommends Mr. Allen Trent for a position at your paintball emporium. Mr. Trent received a C– in my expository writing class last spring, which—given my newly streamlined and increasingly generous grading criteria—is quite the accomplishment. His final project consisted of a ten-page autobiographical essay on the topic of his own rageful impulses and his (often futile) attempts to control them. He cited his dentist and his roommate as primary sources. Consider this missive a testament to Mr. Trent’s preparedness for the work your place of business undoubtedly has in store. Hoping to maintain a distance of at least one hundred yards, Jason T. Fitger Professor of Creative Writing and English Payne University (“Teach ’til It Hurts”)

Over by the campfire, Tyson let loose with his paintball gun. A blue projectile splattered against one of the centaurs, hurling him backward into the lake.

Sure we could replace war with paintball battles. But it would escalate to paint grenades, paint bombs, weapons of mass paint. I don’t want to live in a world where my kids have to worry about what color they will be in the morning.

Buy Experiences, Not Goods. Want to buy happiness? Then spend your hard-earned cash on experiences. Go out for a meal. Go to a concert, movie, or the theater. Go on vacation. Go and learn how to pole dance. Go play paintball. Go bungee jumping. In fact, get involved in anything that provides an opportunity to do things with others, and then tell even more people about it afterward. When it comes to happiness, remember, it is experiences that represent really good value for the money.

Zuzana wondered if she could have been wrong about him, but dismissed the thought. Anyone who would wear all white like that clearly had issues. Just looking at him made her wish she had a paintball gun, but hell, you couldn't pack for every eventuality.

The better it is, the more effort it takes.

SOME PEOPLE WOULD NEVER FORGET certain people, a few people would remember everyone, and most of us would mostly be forgotten. Sometimes it was for the best. Larry Novotny wanted to be forgotten for his dalliance with Amber Ludwig. Tom Mota wanted to be forgotten for that incident involving the paintballs. But did anybody want to be forgotten about completely? We had dedicated years to that place, we labored under the notion we were making names for ourselves, we had to believe in our hearts that each one of us was memorable. And yet who wanted to be remembered for their poor taste or bad breath? Still, better to be remembered for those things than forgotten for your perfect parboiled blandness.

He was a captain in the air force, and now he is CEO of a security company. I didn't have time to find out more about him, but I'm sure he can tell you anything you need to know." A wave of nausea crashed through Zara's gut when she recalled their conversation in the bar. I'll bet he's one of those wannabe military types who spends his weekends playing paintball with his geek friends, pretending he's the real deal. What had she been thinking? But that was the problem. She was always living in the moment, not thinking at all. "Thank you for your service," she mumbled, her cheeks burning. She could only hope he'd been as drunk as she'd been and didn't remember the slight. "Pleasure." The deep rumble of his voice made her toes curl. "I'm the real deal, after all.

We end up at an outdoor paintball course in Jersey. A woodsy, rural kind of place that’s probably brimming with mosquitos and Lyme disease. When I find out Logan has never played paintball before, I sign us both up. There’s really no other option. And our timing is perfect—they’re just about to start a new battle. The worker gathers all the players in a field and divides us into two teams, handing out thin blue and yellow vests to distinguish friend from foe. Since Logan and I are the oldest players, we both become the team captains. The wide-eyed little faces of Logan’s squad follow him as he marches back and forth in front of them, lecturing like a hot, modern-day Winston Churchill. “We’ll fight them from the hills, we’ll fight them in the trees. We’ll hunker down in the river and take them out, sniper-style. Save your ammo—fire only when you see the whites of their eyes. Use your heads.” I turn to my own ragtag crew. “Use your hearts. We’ll give them everything we’ve got—leave it all on the field. You know what wins battles? Desire! Guts! Today, we’ll all be frigging Rudy!” A blond boy whispers to his friend, “Who’s Rudy?” The kid shrugs. And another raises his hand. “Can we start now? It’s my birthday and I really want to have cake.” “It’s my birthday too.” I give him a high-five. “Twinning!” I raise my gun. “And yes, birthday cake will be our spoils of war! Here’s how it’s gonna go.” I point to the giant on the other side of the field. “You see him, the big guy? We converge on him first. Work together to take him down. Cut off the head,” I slice my finger across my neck like I’m beheading myself, “and the old dog dies.” A skinny kid in glasses makes a grossed-out face. “Why would you kill a dog? Why would you cut its head off?” And a little girl in braids squeaks, “Mommy! Mommy, I don’t want to play anymore.” “No,” I try, “that’s not what I—” But she’s already running into her mom’s arms. The woman picks her up—glaring at me like I’m a demon—and carries her away. “Darn.” Then a soft voice whispers right against my ear. “They’re already going AWOL on you, lass? You’re fucked.” I turn to face the bold, tough Wessconian . . . and he’s so close, I can feel the heat from his hard body, see the small sprigs of stubble on that perfect, gorgeous jaw. My brain stutters, but I find the resolve to tease him. “Dear God, Logan, are you smiling? Careful—you might pull a muscle in your face.” And then Logan does something that melts my insides and turns my knees to quivery goo. He laughs. And it’s beautiful. It’s a crime he doesn’t do it more often. Or maybe a blessing. Because Logan St. James is a sexy, stunning man on any given day. But when he laughs? He’s heart-stopping. He swaggers confidently back to his side and I sneer at his retreating form. The uniformed paintball worker blows a whistle and explains the rules. We get seven minutes to hide first. I cock my paintball shotgun with one hand—like Charlize Theron in Fury fucking Road—and lead my team into the wilderness. “Come on, children. Let’s go be heroes.” It was a massacre. We never stood a chance. In the end, we tried to rush them—overpower them—but we just ended up running into a hail of balls, getting our hearts and guts splattered with blue paint. But we tried—I think Rudy and Charlize would be proud

They let loose with their paintball guns. A wave of blue and yellow exploded against Luke’s warriors, blinding them and splattering them from head to toe.

I quickly texted Granny and told her to call around and find out the buzz on the recruiting. She texted back that she would get on it after she and Dwayne finished a round of paintball. She promised to have some info at lunch. I hoped to hell they’d at least gone out to the deserted beach to shoot each other with paint, but my expectation was that they were attacking each other in broad daylight in the quaint confines of her neighborhood. So much for no arrests… The

Both men rubbed their chests and winced, the areas around the impacts were brilliant red and swollen. “That hurt like hell!” This was from Jacobson. “You’re lucky the Lieutenant was just firing paintballs, Private.” Jack was sure Jacobson was understating his case. The Rossman Model MP5 was accurate to over one hundred feet, with a muzzle velocity more than two times that of the recreational Co2 guns available to the general public. They certainly packed a hell of a wallop. The critiquing of the exercise continued for the rest of the day. Many important lessons had been painfully learned or relearned. Measures could now be taken to address the last of the shortcomings of base security, lessons which could and would most certainly be passed on to other base commanders. After all was said and done the exercise was deemed a success. Lieutenant General Roy and Colonel Hart sat back during most of the meeting. The general was again very impressed with Jack and Donny as they critiqued the exercise. The operation had, unfortunately, gone exactly as Jack had presented it to the two of them just two days before. But what impressed Lieutenant General Roy the most was the ease of leadership of both men.

She was a wide-eyed strawberry blonde who jumped at her own shadow. I didn’t have high hopes for her paintball prowess.

Great! I hope different police officers are here this time." "Might be, but we're in the same police jurisdiction. I'm certain from the last time you were here, they probably have a record about you. What was it you said? You were playing some game re-enactment the last time you were injured?" "Yes. How did your brother come up the idea of a paint-ball game? That's a good one." "He's played them here before. He would like to bring the game back to our world, but we fight for real.

(2) Free play, force-on-force field exercises. These can range from team-versus-team exercises using paintball guns in nothing larger than a room-clearing exercise or small wooded lot, or large platoon or company-sized exercises in the field. Free play force-on-force exercises are the most complex and usually the most resource driven aspect of the POI. Free play force-on-force exercises can be conducted by actual freethinking opponents, such as one student unit portraying U.S. forces, while the other plays the role of the insurgent forces. Or the exercise can be conducted also using opposing sides, but executed using computer simulation without leaving a building. Force-on-force, free play exercises should also occur at different levels of a leader’s development, and the exercises will lends themselves well to higher levels of student education.

Over by the campfire, Tyson let loose with his paintball gun. A blue projectile splattered against one of the centaurs, hurling him backward into the lake. The centaur came up grinning, covered in swamp muck and blue paint, and gave Tyson two thumbs up.

Win walked through the glares with a smile and a nod. The pub was old and run-down, and it looked almost fake, which only made it feel more authentic. The women were big and chesty with rat-nest hair. Many wore those off-one-shoulder Flashdance sweatshirts. One eyed Win. She had several missing teeth. There were little ribbons in her hair that seemed to add nothing, à la “Starlight”-era Madonna, and her makeup looked as though it’d been applied with paintball pellets in a dark closet.

I looked at Win. Win’s face was as usual unreadable. The woman with the paintball makeup—hard to say an age, could have been an easy fifty or a hard twenty-five, and I was counting on the latter—said to Win, “I live near here.” Win gave her the superior gaze that made people hate him. “In that alley perhaps?” “No,” she said with a big hearty laugh. Win was such a card. “I have a basement flat.” “Must be divine,” Win said in a voice richly marinated in sarcasm. “Oh, it’s nothing special,” Paintball said, not picking up on Win’s tone. “But it’s got a bed.” She pulled up on her pink ’n’ purple leg warmers and winked at Win. “A bed,” she repeated. In case he wasn’t getting the drift. “Sounds enchanting.” “Want to see it?” “Madam”—Win faced her full—“I would rather have my semen removed via a catheter.” Another

If you looking for Rafting Company in Rishikesh? Then we are the people to call because we have it all. If you are looking for camping in Rishikesh, adventure, fun, anticipation and family bonding then your one weekend with us is awaiting. As in this weekend we give you all kind of rafting in Rishikesh like river rafting, bungee jumping and trekking, if you are the daring kind. And you can dare to paint the town red then paintball is your thing. Diffidence prevents us from audacity, but we do have the best camps for hosting your family weekends. So what are you coming up for Pack your bags as Uttarakhand Adventure is calling. If adventure runs from side to side your veins and you dare to ride high on the wild waters of the Ganga then head to Rishikesh for a rejuvenate and exciting holiday journey. Revitalize your drained body and mind in the good-looking surroundings of this holy town and let the thrill of white water rafting take you absent from the rest of the world. Offering a synthesis of chilly conditions and gorgeous sand beaches with Garhwal Himalaya Mountains in the background, Rishikesh is one of the most important rafting destinations in India. It is a place that continues to strike the thoughts of city dwellers who want to escape from their work routine and droning lifestyle. The best element of river rafting company in Rishikesh is that it can be enjoyed by anyone; you don’t need to be a swimmer or a specialized rafter to enjoy this sport. The strong present of the Ganga flowing down from a very high height through the Himalayan Mountain Range makes it one of the best rivers in India to enjoy rafting adventure. Wash away your fears and go in front and sail crossways the river awash with demanding whirlpools and rapids. If you manage to successfully man oeuvre through the stretch with little help from the guide, you positively deserve a pat on your back for your skirmishing spirit. Most of river rafting packages in Rishikesh are incomplete without experiencing the rustic charm of beach camping under the open sky. The best instance for white water rafting in Rishikesh is from February to May and as of September to November. River Rafting is best enjoyed in the consecrated valley of Rishikesh which boasts of the Great Ganges River downward with an ultimate force and existing precisely as the originator intended her to be- Wild and Free. The attendance of numerous rapids and troughs along the make bigger of the river fortifies the stand of Rishikesh as the River Rafting capital of India. Once here; you will be given a crash course on the sport, its navigational technique, and how to make it safer. Following the briefing, the organizers will hand you gear like rafts, paddles, helmets and life jackets.

Closed head trauma is about as much fun as nude paintballing.

little curious as to where exactly they’ve sent that coupon as I do not recall actually giving them an address. If it was a mandatory field on their form then chances are I just started typing things about horses, as per usual. Looks like there’s going to be one lucky horse out there somewhere... and one confused postman.   Trevor Mcinsley to: Cape Kidnappers Golf Course   Hello, I was wondering what the dress code for your course is. Specifically if ski goggles/paintball masks are allowed? We will have rather a large gathering and we are... erm, afraid of getting hit in the eyes by stray balls. Yes, that’s it. WE ARE DEFINITELY NOT AN INTERNATIONAL CRIME SYDNICATE. Thanks.   Cape Kidnappers Golf Course to: Trevor Mcinsley   Trevor,   Thank you for your inquiry.   The dress code at Cape Kidnappers is generally considered tidy but requires collared shirts and khaki pants or bermuda shorts. While we understand you are concerned about your eyes, ski goggles and paintball masks are not allowed. Traditional safety

Shades of Nightmare on Blood Lake,” Wanda whispered. “Thank the gods we’re not in that flick. Still, we’d be okay,” Lucas said confidently. “None of us have had sex, none of us are naked, and none of us are going to go get a beer. We’re outside the formula!”              “What formula? What in the hell are you talking about?” I asked. “It’s a slasher flick,” Lucas answered. “You could always tell who the psycho killer was going to get next. Anyone who’d just had sex, was naked, or said ‘I’m going to go get a beer’ inevitably died right after.” “That’s the victim profile, idiot,” Wanda said acidly. “We‘re still in the basic plot set up! The whole movie took place at an abandoned campground. We’re doomed!” “Guys, right now, the most dangerous thing out here is the pissed-off sophomore in the back seat with a loaded paintball gun!” I said, voice rising until I was almost yelling. “Now, let me out!

Her makeup looked as though it’d been applied with a paintball gun.

Scarecrow explained the rules. Each group’s mission was to ransack and destroy Sandanona. For several hours they would shoot at anything that moved, except possibly each other, although no one would receive points for hitting anything other than skeet. This was no wimpy paintball shooting contest; the guns and ammo were real. We were about to learn the corporate team concept of shooting to kill and experience the ultimate in male bonding (although a few women were present, this being the 1990s and all). Some salesmen questioned whether F.I.A.S.C.O. was originally Scarecrow’s idea. Original ideas may not have been Scarecrow’s forte, but on this issue, I must defend him. The clever acronym may not have been his invention, but the idea of shooting at things certainly was.

And just so you know, I used to play capture the flag on the school playground and I always won." "This isn't school." His deep voice was as clear as if he were facing her. "It isn't a real war," she pointed out. "It's a game. We're at a paintball field in San Jose that gives a ten percent discount if you buy your paintballs in bulk and charges an extra five dollars to cover laundry fees. Maybe you should lighten up." He glanced over his shoulder. "Maybe you should stop talking." "Why?" "Because I'm not listening." Zara waited until he'd walked a good twenty feet away before she shot him in the ass. "What the f---?" He whirled around to face her, his hand gripping the injured area. "I was helping you on your way.

Zara lifted her weapon and aimed it at the unmarked side of his ass. If anybody deserved a second shot it was him. "I wouldn't advise it," he said without turning around. "Your ammo is better served taking out the enemy." "That's exactly what I was thinking.

As the trio continued their conversation, a sense of hope began to emerge from the depths of their concerns. Stella’s thoughts wandered to the broader implications of smart contracts. “You know, guys,” she said thoughtfully, “although Travis might be right in principle, smart contracts are decentralized and anonymous and if done right, very challenging to connect with a real-life person. Let’s say, as a thought experiment, what if someone created a smart contract that put a price on a leader’s head? A contract that could challenge those in power, just like offering a reward in the past.” Edie raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet cautious. “That’s a scary idea, Stella. We must be careful not to resort to violence. We need to find ways to inspire behavioral change, not replace one oppressive force with another. I severely doubt that this would suffice to bring an end to the cycle of violence we want to step away from in the first place.” Stella considered Edie’s words, but a spark of daring lingered in her eyes. “True, but imagine if we could show the world that the masses, when united, are never powerless. What if we created a smart contract that paid a bounty if a target was hit with a harmless paintball instead, preferably on their forehead? A contract funded by the crowd, proving that collective strength can be a force to reckon with, and signaling to the top-dogs there is an end to what people are willing to accept.

Well, I can’t take credit for the idea. I read it in a fiction novel about a witch who filled paintballs with potions.

Erica vaulted over with the ease of an Olympic gymnast, landing gracefully on her feet. I vaulted over it with the grace of a diseased elephant. I tried to stick the landing but lost my balance and face-planted in the dirt. I still did better than Warren, though. While clambering over the wall, he caught his pant leg on a shard of wood, leaving him at the mercy of the paintball brigade. His rear end might as well have had a target painted on it. The professors shot him again and again before he finally managed to free himself—although to do it, he had to wriggle out of his pants altogether. He landed with a painful thud on our side of the wall in only his tighty-whities.

The thought of inviting Zane to accompany him to West Virginia was appealing, in a way. If things went south, Ty could throw Zane in front of his parents just like he had the paintballs. Use him as a sort of human sacrifice.

I have two tubes with ten paint pellets in each, so I assess the cost of each shot. I then think of how, despite being behind a tree, I was hit by someone I never saw. Maybe the same thing would happen again and I’d return home with two tubes of souvenirs. Or maybe I’d just shoot them all off against a tree. I test my gun. I aim, squeeze the trigger, and the shell tumbles out like a lead weight. I adjust the air pressure. Try again. Same results. If the gun came equipped with a “pow” sign it’d be more lethal.

For a moment, stunned, Robby Brees and I had sat there, watching what was happening on the bridge ahead of us. Then I realized we were all stuck anyway, and Robby and I still had our paintball guns that were loaded with the blood of a real, cigarette-smoking, homosexual teenage God.

He has no great lust for war and, in his darker moments, has stated that he thinks there should be no more wars at all. The money saved, he argues, could be plunged into more sophisticated paintballing centres to satiate the needs of the bloodthirsty.

The better it is, the more effort it takes.