Ahh...totally my bad about the buttons. Regardless, I feel obligated to point out to you that I'm the one who's dumping the rifle; not the other way around. :x I'm not the type to break these things up over trivial stuff (I have needs, she has needs, and all that), but at some point you just feel that the other party should come meet you halfway with the compromising, you know? I mean, she wants me to oil her, clean out her pipe, and lug her about by a leather strap all day; I can respect that (heck, I even kind of enjoyed it at first); but thirteen times at the firing range and she still refuses to shoot me eleven out of twelve? Oh, Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca...we're just not connecting on a spiritual level. D=
So therefore...I am dumping her onto some poor sucker from the 2/08 contigent. Knowing her, she won't even mind as long as he learns which end of the oil brush goes where, the dirty little slattern. <.<
But...the multi-quote button, you say? REALLY? She's, like, my long-time love. Much obliged, my friend, much obliged. ^.^