oh so strange

I am in Florida with my family. Tonight, at my grandparents' house, we looked at guns. Lots and lots of guns. My aunt's guns, my mom's guns, my grandfathers guns. Pistol after pistol. Thirty-eights, nine-millimeters, a forty-five. My aunt said, with a straight face, "I've always wanted to shoot somebody through my purse," but her brow furrowed then she laughed. "Well, I mean, it would depend on which purse I was carrying. If it was the Louis Vuitton I would have to take the gun out first before I shot him." Then she laughed some more.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?