So, last Monday I headed to Strike Bethesda for my usual weekly bowling. We’re waiting in line to get our lane when this group of foreign guys (they had that look, you know what I’m talking about...don’t try and judge me) comes piling in and they stink of cigarettes. You know, that "I was just outside smoking a whole cigarette in two minutes since we can’t smoke inside here, I hate America" type of smell. Well, as they walk by me, I realize that I’m slightly allergic to this and my eyes start to twitch a bit. I shrug it off, but my right eye continues to itch off and on throughout the night.
A couple days pass, and my eye is still itching me. By Thursday, I wake up and my right eye has actually gotten red and feels like I’ve got something stuck in it. I ask people to check to see if I’ve got an eyelash or something going on, but nothing. By Friday, my eye is starting to swell, and I’m getting nervous. So nervous that I go the first route I usually never do...buy some sort of drugs to help it out. I swing by Target, grab myself some allergy drops, and actually put them into my eye.
By Saturday, my eye has gotten even more swollen, I have a vicious hangover from a party night after Davidson beat Wisconsin (but that’s another story), and I’m wondering if my eye is ever gonna get any better.
Nope. Sunday rolls around and now I feel like I look like a combination of Rocky from Rocky I (second Rocky reference on this blog in like two weeks!) and Sloth from Goonies (I’ll try to get a second Goonies reference soon). I need to go that next route, the route I rarely ever take. I’m going to go to the doctor.
You see, I don’t like going to the doctor. I don’t like taking the time to drive there. I don’t like filling out all my information, because I don’t know who my "primary care physician" is. I don’t like waiting in the waiting room with sick people, so I can contract a new disease that I didn’t come in with. Or just sitting there reading Us Weekly or watching CSPAN for an hour and a half because I don’t care about either. And most of all, I really don’t like getting bills...I just got over the $3000 price tag associated with my broken jaw of two years ago...and that’s after insurance did their part.
It is for this reason that I have been wearing the same eye glasses for the past 8 years. And why I’m pretty sure I will never be able to bend my right big toe correctly again. But I digress. I’m here and I’ve endured these disasters. And the doctor has come in to check out my eye.
After a quick examination including squirting orange dye into my eye and looking at it under a UV lamp (does this sound normal to you?), she concludes that she doesn’t know what it is, and decides to treat it as conjunctivitis. She’s gonna give me some eyedrops and tells me to call an eye specialist if it doesn’t get better. She doesn’t know? And she wants me to put something in my eye? And call someone else when it doesn’t get better? You see why I avoid this shit. Again, I digress.
I figure I’ve made it this far, let’s get my money’s worth. I mention that I have a bone sticking out funny on my shoulder though the pain associated with it went away a couple weeks ago. She looks at my shoulder and tells me to call a specialist. What can she help me with?
I’ve got nothing else going wrong with me, so I’m like, "how hard is it to get an STD test?" You know, you can never be too careful, and while Mr. Johnson appears to be doing ok, I’ve never had one before, so what can it hurt? She says, ’just need to take some blood and some urine’, and I’m like, ’let’s do it!’ Am I mocking the medical profession by just adding these things on?
Anyway, a few minutes later, a nurse comes in and has the blood taking stuff and a cup with her. She’s actually somewhat attractive, which makes me regret having asked for such a test to be done, but it’s too late now. She takes my blood, and shows me to the bathroom. After taking care of business, I hand her my freshly filled cup and then there’s this awkward moment where we’re both standing there.
In my head, I’m thinking how hilarious it would be if I tried to ask this girl out. I think it would go something like this:
Me: Yeah, I know you’re holding a cup of my pee and you just took blood to make sure that I don’t have gonorhea or syphillis, and I presently look like I want a Baby Ruth from Chunk (told you I’d get a second Goonies reference in), but would you like to go out sometime?
Her: How about I let you know in a day or two after these results come back?
And perhaps this thought in my head lead to the awkward exchange as I had a goofy smirk on my face as I grabbed my box of OJ (she gave me some) and headed out.
And then today, I went to my friend, who is an eye doctor, and he said everything she told me about the eye was wrong and he told me that I’m just having an allergy issue that went a little haywire in one eye.
See...now you know why I avoid doctors offices. Nothing good comes from them except these retarded stories...and this shnazzy new t-shirt with "Disease Free" and an arrow pointing down on it that I got.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Bowling Prowess...the Backlash
So, as you've all had the opportunity to read, I was feeling really good about my "skillz" after throwing up a 5 strike and 210 game performance. So good, that I went the extra mile and picked up some shnazzy new bowling shoes (Matt got some too) for using at my bowling league.
My bowling league is down in Falls Church (yeah, I don't know why either) and competes every Thursday night. It's more or less the same bunch of us that bowl on Mondays, so everyone was eager to see how I would follow up my 210 game performance. Oh, and here's how I did it.
I bowled a 122. Yes, a 122. It's not terrible, but what I have left out of this portion of the blog is the fact that in this league you are competing against the person bowling in the same order as you. I'm feeling pretty good during warm-ups as I see he has a 54 handicap compared to my 75, so I've already got a 21 pin lead on him. And who is this "he" you might be asking...he's a red-headed stone-faced killer named Toby...but after the first game, I gave him his real name...Drago.
You see Drago throws the ball with some spin, much like the pros. And what Drago also does is kill Apollo in Rocky IV. And playing the role of Apollo was none other than your favorite, overconfident jewish bowler here. It wasn't looking all that brutal in the early going, I'm dancing around, "Coming to America" is playing and I'm still sitting about 10 pins above him in the fifth, thanks to our handicaps...and then the Russian manager in the corner gives him the signal and the pummelling begins. The remainder of the game only required him to throw the ball 7 times (yeah, you do the math) and he's just laid down a 244 on me. With his handicap, that's 298. Yeah, and I just bowled a 197.
So I regroup. I drive around in my expensive car, jamming out to "No Easy Way Out" and ponder about the good times I had bowling, when I threw 5 strikes in a row and scored 210. But that all came crashing down at the hands of Drago. It's time for some payback.
After a couple quick training montage videos, I'm back and ready to show this a-hole what bowling is all about.
Out I come with a spare, and another, and another. A literal barrage of punches. Unfortunately, old Drago is still throwing those god damned strikes...four more to be precise. And then it happens. 4th frame...I bowl a strike. And he bowls a 9. Yes, a 9. HE'S NOT A MACHINE. HE'S A MAN.
Sadly, this is where the whole Rocky reference ends, as does all of my fun. He proceeds to throw a spare, followed by several more strikes. I continue to hold my own, ending at 187. With my handicap, that actually gave me the third best finish of anyone playing on our lane. Unfornunately the second best was none other than Drago, once again eclipsing 200 and pummeling me with a 241 game.
Our team as a whole suffered much the same fate, as we ended the game, losing 1-14, and have now dropped to dead last in the league with an 0-3 start and only 14 points scored TOTAL.
This is why the sequels are never quite as good as the original.
Oh, and did I fail to mention that during all of this I'm wearing a bright orange shirt with the word "stupid" and an arrow pointing up on it...courtesy of being the lowest (2nd lowest really, but the lowest, Shayna, was not there this week) scorer including handicap on our team the previous week. And yes, our team name and all our other shirts say "I'm With Stupid."
My bowling league is down in Falls Church (yeah, I don't know why either) and competes every Thursday night. It's more or less the same bunch of us that bowl on Mondays, so everyone was eager to see how I would follow up my 210 game performance. Oh, and here's how I did it.
I bowled a 122. Yes, a 122. It's not terrible, but what I have left out of this portion of the blog is the fact that in this league you are competing against the person bowling in the same order as you. I'm feeling pretty good during warm-ups as I see he has a 54 handicap compared to my 75, so I've already got a 21 pin lead on him. And who is this "he" you might be asking...he's a red-headed stone-faced killer named Toby...but after the first game, I gave him his real name...Drago.
You see Drago throws the ball with some spin, much like the pros. And what Drago also does is kill Apollo in Rocky IV. And playing the role of Apollo was none other than your favorite, overconfident jewish bowler here. It wasn't looking all that brutal in the early going, I'm dancing around, "Coming to America" is playing and I'm still sitting about 10 pins above him in the fifth, thanks to our handicaps...and then the Russian manager in the corner gives him the signal and the pummelling begins. The remainder of the game only required him to throw the ball 7 times (yeah, you do the math) and he's just laid down a 244 on me. With his handicap, that's 298. Yeah, and I just bowled a 197.
So I regroup. I drive around in my expensive car, jamming out to "No Easy Way Out" and ponder about the good times I had bowling, when I threw 5 strikes in a row and scored 210. But that all came crashing down at the hands of Drago. It's time for some payback.
After a couple quick training montage videos, I'm back and ready to show this a-hole what bowling is all about.
Out I come with a spare, and another, and another. A literal barrage of punches. Unfortunately, old Drago is still throwing those god damned strikes...four more to be precise. And then it happens. 4th frame...I bowl a strike. And he bowls a 9. Yes, a 9. HE'S NOT A MACHINE. HE'S A MAN.
Sadly, this is where the whole Rocky reference ends, as does all of my fun. He proceeds to throw a spare, followed by several more strikes. I continue to hold my own, ending at 187. With my handicap, that actually gave me the third best finish of anyone playing on our lane. Unfornunately the second best was none other than Drago, once again eclipsing 200 and pummeling me with a 241 game.
Our team as a whole suffered much the same fate, as we ended the game, losing 1-14, and have now dropped to dead last in the league with an 0-3 start and only 14 points scored TOTAL.
This is why the sequels are never quite as good as the original.
Oh, and did I fail to mention that during all of this I'm wearing a bright orange shirt with the word "stupid" and an arrow pointing up on it...courtesy of being the lowest (2nd lowest really, but the lowest, Shayna, was not there this week) scorer including handicap on our team the previous week. And yes, our team name and all our other shirts say "I'm With Stupid."
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Bowling Prowess
Well, as some of you may already know, I've been going to Strike Bethesda every Monday with a group of friends for the past several months every Monday to enjoy all-you-can-bowl night. For those that aren't aware, Strike Bethesda offers unlimited bowling for $18 from 8 PM until closing on Monday nights, and also have $.75 sliders and $.25 wings to really pull you in.
Needless to say, they had me at all-you-can-bowl and a group of anywhere from 8-13 of us head there every week. We've been there so much that now we're considered VIPs (yes, I know...it's sad) and they will give us at least two lanes regardless of how many people we have or how crowded the place is. Trust me, sometimes that's a good thing.
Anyway, while the weeks and weeks of bowling would usually mean someone should be good by now, I really haven't been displaying it all that much. I'll still throw a few silly games here and there (i.e. 170-180), I'm still no Ernie McCracken. That is, until this past Monday.
There were only 6 of us bowl this fateful night and things are looking gloomy as usually early on. I'm bowling my typically 120-130 range, I've got a stupid zit forming on my forehead from having worn my hat a couple days last week, and I've already killed 2 sliders and about 6 buffalo wings. Dismal, if nothing else. And then it happens. I have a 50 through 5 frames, and I've got a $5 side bet (apparently I have a gambling problem...at least that's what I read somewhere) with Edwin, who's got close to 80. And then the stikes begin. One. Then Two. Then a Third. At this point, I am forced to dance the running man on the alley...it's a group rule...though I likely would have done it anyway. Then comes the fourth. I had no dance lined up for this and really everyone didn't know what to do, as this doesn't usually happen. And then came the fifth. At this point, I felt it only appropriate to raise both hands in the air and yell, "I am the greatest bowler EVER." Perhaps a bit of an overstatement, but let's see you drop five strikes in a row. I botched the next throw but spared the final toss to give me a final score of 187. A record high for me since my all time top score of 194 from a couple years ago.
But tonight is where I turn the corner. I proceed to throw a 99 in the next game. YIKES. And then it is go time. The game starts of and the spares are flowing. Four of them in a row to be precise. Then two strikes. I've already busted 100 and it's the 6th frame. I've bet Edwin again (yes, I've heard) and now he's shitting his pants. But I'm not done. A quick spare and then I'm back on course with two straight strikes. The second one was a wobbly 10th pin that got knocked down as the grabber thing came down, but we'll take it. It's gonna be that type of game. I'm entering the 10th and 200 is eerily in sight.
I chuck the ball down the lane...it's looking like another strike...but, oh no. There's one pin remaining. My score is sitting at 199. It's an all-time high for me. I've marked on every frame thus far, and I'm sitting just this one pin away from the immortal 200. Don't patronize me, I have little to get excited about, and this is the best I have going right now...you're just jealous you weren't there.
The pressure is on. I throw my shot at it, and the streak continues. My tenth straight mark, and I'm sitting in the den of gods at 201. But I'm not done. One more throw. I chuck it down. The pressure is off. The 200 was reach. And I added another 9 on top for a total of 210. An all-time high for me and everyone within shouting distance. And $5 well earned. Perhaps bowling every Monday is actually doing more than making me more of a redneck. Then again, I am wearing a shirt right now that says "stupid" on it and has a finger pointing up at my face. Now that's a whole different story.
Needless to say, they had me at all-you-can-bowl and a group of anywhere from 8-13 of us head there every week. We've been there so much that now we're considered VIPs (yes, I know...it's sad) and they will give us at least two lanes regardless of how many people we have or how crowded the place is. Trust me, sometimes that's a good thing.
Anyway, while the weeks and weeks of bowling would usually mean someone should be good by now, I really haven't been displaying it all that much. I'll still throw a few silly games here and there (i.e. 170-180), I'm still no Ernie McCracken. That is, until this past Monday.
There were only 6 of us bowl this fateful night and things are looking gloomy as usually early on. I'm bowling my typically 120-130 range, I've got a stupid zit forming on my forehead from having worn my hat a couple days last week, and I've already killed 2 sliders and about 6 buffalo wings. Dismal, if nothing else. And then it happens. I have a 50 through 5 frames, and I've got a $5 side bet (apparently I have a gambling problem...at least that's what I read somewhere) with Edwin, who's got close to 80. And then the stikes begin. One. Then Two. Then a Third. At this point, I am forced to dance the running man on the alley...it's a group rule...though I likely would have done it anyway. Then comes the fourth. I had no dance lined up for this and really everyone didn't know what to do, as this doesn't usually happen. And then came the fifth. At this point, I felt it only appropriate to raise both hands in the air and yell, "I am the greatest bowler EVER." Perhaps a bit of an overstatement, but let's see you drop five strikes in a row. I botched the next throw but spared the final toss to give me a final score of 187. A record high for me since my all time top score of 194 from a couple years ago.
But tonight is where I turn the corner. I proceed to throw a 99 in the next game. YIKES. And then it is go time. The game starts of and the spares are flowing. Four of them in a row to be precise. Then two strikes. I've already busted 100 and it's the 6th frame. I've bet Edwin again (yes, I've heard) and now he's shitting his pants. But I'm not done. A quick spare and then I'm back on course with two straight strikes. The second one was a wobbly 10th pin that got knocked down as the grabber thing came down, but we'll take it. It's gonna be that type of game. I'm entering the 10th and 200 is eerily in sight.
I chuck the ball down the lane...it's looking like another strike...but, oh no. There's one pin remaining. My score is sitting at 199. It's an all-time high for me. I've marked on every frame thus far, and I'm sitting just this one pin away from the immortal 200. Don't patronize me, I have little to get excited about, and this is the best I have going right now...you're just jealous you weren't there.
The pressure is on. I throw my shot at it, and the streak continues. My tenth straight mark, and I'm sitting in the den of gods at 201. But I'm not done. One more throw. I chuck it down. The pressure is off. The 200 was reach. And I added another 9 on top for a total of 210. An all-time high for me and everyone within shouting distance. And $5 well earned. Perhaps bowling every Monday is actually doing more than making me more of a redneck. Then again, I am wearing a shirt right now that says "stupid" on it and has a finger pointing up at my face. Now that's a whole different story.
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