Bowling

08.10.05
So I went bowling yesterday with some work people. The combination of people, bowling, and my social inhibitions should set the mood already. They served table food hot dogs and hamburgers that made me felt like toxic waste afterwards. They had free booze and wine but that was the last thing I needed, to be tipsy and surrounded by bunch of bowling co-workers. I just might say something nice. Drinking makes me feel less agitated around people and more tolerable towards them. As the famous saying goes, I drink to make other people around me interesting. They were playing music videos on big screens above the bowling pins. It went from late seventies to current day music, so I had a bad Elton John songs coming from his old days when he wore those big red framed glasses of his. They played Weezer’s Buddy Holly and some Simple Plan song, Peter Gabriel’s Shock the Monkey, and other various good and bad songs. I drank water and ice tea and ate non-stop to kill my boredom. I started to bowl with my left hand, which then I became interested in the game. I knew I’ll be frustrated if I tried to bowl and tried to get a good score and only ended up with something average no matter how hard I tried. I’m never going to bowl again unless some obscene, forced, networking event makes me feel obligated to attend another social event as glamorous as this one. So, I had no will to play as well as I could, and I definitely didn't want to leave the place as a frustrated bowler. That’s always the case with me. But, being lefty really made things fun for me. I actually didn’t expect to do well and that created an interesting challenge for me. I even got a strike as a lefty, but the catch was, was that I couldn’t do it again, well not with my right either, but at least my conscience wasn’t connected to my arm as I threw the ball down and out with my left hand. While throwing with my right hand, all I could think of was how it would be better to be undergoing reconstructed knee surgery at this point. Everyone there was really having a good time. There were cheers, high-fives, screams. Everyone played in paired teams two against two. My partner was such a lousy bowler. I can easily crush him with my right hand, eyes closed, feet tied together, and gagged. Together, we were sensational at being the lowest scoring team. My partner was really trying too, which was sad. He was sweating profusely like a pig, trying so hard to get nothing but gutter. Everyone else was doing swell and full of laughs and cheers. I was morose and wondered why I couldn’t connect with these people, ever, and just continued to gain weight by the minute eating toxic waste.