So, I’ve been hung up on the couch with a neck injury for the past week. I took some time to gather my thoughts and I thought, “How could you fail at that?” Well, apparently you can. I let TV rot my brain and nursed my internal wounds with grilled cheese and granola bars and the occasional gallon of malt liquor.
I was practicing my b-boy breakdancing technique to a John Mayer album, when I found myself spinning on my head like an upside-down ice skater. I then spoke to myself, “Where’s the music at? Where’s the rhythm at? Holy fuck, I’m listening to John Mayer again!” That’s when I heard a snap and collapsed on the floor. When my roommate found me, I had a lot of explaining to do. Why are you naked? What’s with the tarp and the tub of mayo? Why in God’s name are you listening to John Mayer?!
I tried to explain, but it all came out like mashed potatoes out of a sock. So on to the couch I went, Icy hot from head to toe just in case I missed some area of the pain that has wrecked my proverbial shit. There I stayed for a week. I’m feeling a lot better now, but I’m due for a relapse at any moment. John Mayer could come out of nowhere and I may have sympathy pains once again.
When I woke up this morning and could move for the first time in a while without intense red hot poker pain in my neck, I realized I hadn’t been bowling in over two weeks.
This is no good. No good at all.
I plan on remedying this situation post haste, but in the meantime, I thought I might touch base with you about bowling.
I always have equated bowling with life and decision making. It’s the perfect analogy. When you get up to bowl, you posture yourself for the best roll for your situation. You take aim and take all the precautions necessary to achieve your goal. Stay out of the gutter, put so much English on it, put so much stank on it, and prepare your victory celebration. But, just like in real life, you can posture yourself perfectly, put yourself in the right situation, make the right decision and execute it flawlessly, but the lane is fucked up and someone oiled the lanes too much, so you go careening out of control to an unknown conclusion. There’s always another way to bowl too; don’t give a crap, throw it down the lane and hope for the best. Sometimes it’s more satisfying to do it that way.
Environmentals are a variable in every sport; even in a sport inside where drinking beer and eating chili cheese fries is normal to accompany your athleticism. I happen to think that one to two beers a game will drastically increase your performance and consistency within the pocket. But what the hell do I know? I have my grandfather’s bowling ball and a Bengals bowling bag. I am made out of fail, but bowling is my friend.
It’s the Wal-Mart sport. You can go to a bowling alley and find the same people. It’s the perfect cross section of a population. Everyone can play. They even have the bumpers and the rails for aiming. Go to a bowling alley on a Saturday afternoon; get a pitcher of beer, a pack of lucky strikes and people watch like they do in Paris. This is more prevalent if you have Wal-Marts in your area. If you live in a big city of some sort, or don’t allow smoking inside your establishments, you’re SOL. You’re doomed to not understand that side of the country. If you grew up hanging out at gas stations and there was only a Wal-Mart and a Food4Less in your town, you know what I’m talking about. I heard a while back that a fourth of all people who live in New York City have never seen a cow.
Nevertheless, bowling is a great sport, and Tim Russert obsessed about how that golf is the only sport that you can play your entire lifetime? I think that bowling needs to have a word with him, so hard in his face. (I know he’s dead)
and as always...
MOaR News: Canned Meat Edition
This is hilarious. I know, I know. What if it were me on the receiving end of this joke? Well I'd have a sense of humor about it.
Something on ohio.com that has to do with school buses and porn? Get out of town!
Oh GOD MAKE IT STOP
Tomorrow I'll be talking to you about Furries and Bacon.