For some god-forsaken reason *Steve* thought it would be a great and wonderful idea to go bowling. So he prepped *Mila* and she ran upstairs brushed her teeth, put on her "bowling outfit" (which included a shirt that fit her cousin when she was 6 or 7) and then the waiting game began. *Steve* got her all ready and excited for something we couldn't enter into until after 3 pm. Off we went, I got dragged along and the next thing I know we are standing in line for twenty minutes waiting for some hundred year old shoes that reek of smelly feet and fungal creatures. First off, the boy working doesn't know if there are any lanes open. Although we see about 15 lanes open. "Do you have a reservation?" Um, no. But there is an entire empty bowling alley. All the while helper-dude-where's-my-car-dude enters bowler's names into his very secret computer around the corner. We pay and we get our shoes. *Mila* has to don the ugliest ones in the history of bowling. We sit down and now they can't put the gutter guards up on our lane. Helper-dude-where's-my-car-dude comes by with a giant eye hook and looks at the guards and says to us "I guess he doesn't want anyone to use them since they're locked". *Steve* gets flustered and *Mila* hits a couple balls and soon is beating me. And on the fifth frame she files them all under "G" for gutter balls. Not bad. It took 5 frames for this to happen. I was not so successful.
We left with *Mila* in tears of disappointment and now I'm home, first listening to Kevin Bacon sing while the dog consumes most of the couch. It's time to hide the remote from *Steve* as Rick Springfield is now rocking out on my television and 40-something year old women are still having crushes on him. The front row at his concert looks like a Curves commercial and while it is real it has dated me. Now these women are holding up giant emoticons. What is that all about? Rick has me on the edge of my seat in total discomfort. He's humiliating himself with his 1983 suit and when he starts singing "Jesse's Girl" or one of his many K-Tel distributed hits, I'm out.
We left with *Mila* in tears of disappointment and now I'm home, first listening to Kevin Bacon sing while the dog consumes most of the couch. It's time to hide the remote from *Steve* as Rick Springfield is now rocking out on my television and 40-something year old women are still having crushes on him. The front row at his concert looks like a Curves commercial and while it is real it has dated me. Now these women are holding up giant emoticons. What is that all about? Rick has me on the edge of my seat in total discomfort. He's humiliating himself with his 1983 suit and when he starts singing "Jesse's Girl" or one of his many K-Tel distributed hits, I'm out.
signed, the willow
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