May 10th, 2008


Dude, Looks Like, A Lady

My phone's dead. Long story short, the bill didn't get paid and it won't get paid by me because I'm on a ludicrous unlimited-minutes family plan and $150 is owed for the initial month's use. I don't have $150 I'm willing to spend on a cell phone right now. I don't have 150 cents I'm willing to spend on something I use - at most - once or twice a week for extended (read: 20 minutes) conversations and short messages when meeting friends.

So, if you want to reach me, you'll have to e-mail. Either until the bill gets paid or until I move out and get my own phone plan. I won't be giving out the house number unless it's absolutely necessary. Any exceptions to that rule will be made at my discretion.

In other news, over the last 7 games, I'm keeping up an average bowling score of over 140. According to the books I'm reading, an average score of 140-150 is "extremely mediocre" but for me it represents a 20-30 pin increase over the last couple months, so I'm happy. Consistency is key; last Thursday I bowled a 110, 124, and a 151, which means I need to get better at picking up my spares and find a steadier strike throw.

I'm well aware of the fact that there is most likely a ceiling for me while using my current thumbless technique and that I'll eventually have to learn how to roll a proper hook, but in the meantime I'm happy with my bastardization. Every week presents a new opportunity to improve on my already impessive numbers. We've got one more warm-up before next Wednesday's initial league game.

Helpful Tip: if your first roll produced 9 pins, leaving you with the Seven Pin, release your shot at the center dot and aim for the 3rd arrow from the left. Apparently that creates a straight line to your target.

Another Helpful Tip: if you choose to go to Tacoma via bus after 7pm (when most of the office workers have gone home), be prepared for a tremendous number of freaks, at least one cross-dresser with his/her teenage daughter, and an overweight woman with gigantic breasts practically exploding out of a too-small, too-cleavagey spaghetti-strapped top. I'm telling you, these things surpass titties, boobs, and even hooters. We're talking full-on gazongas!