My parents are in a bowling league with my mom’s company. They bowl every Wednesday and they have a hoot of a time. This week, it was too difficult for my dad to go so I was the substitute. I was sort of amazing. SO amazing – in fact – that I think I even bowled over 100 for one of the games. Holla!
Try not to be too overwhelmed by my incredible skills – this has taken years of hard work.
It was a nice night hanging with my mom, bowling with her buds, and eating some crappy food. I’m not feeling so hot so maybe the crappy food thing wasn’t the best choice but really – what other option is there at a bowling alley?
I also learned something tonight. I have apparently been bowling incorrectly for my entire life. I always used my thumb, pointer, and middle finger to bowl. Tonight my mom said I bowled weird and we asked everyone else how they used the ball. Apparently the pointer finger is used by me and me alone. Who taught me that? Who knows! I have been living a lie. Oh, and if you try to undo two decades of bowling incorrectly – it won’t work. I then tried to use their technique. Failwhale.
It’s sort of like that time when I was in high school and my parents were watching me do homework. They asked me who taught me how to write. I have no idea. I have been told since middle school that I hold a pencil like a total weirdo and that no one has ever seen anyone do that before – most notably my parents.
Dear Parents, If you weren’t teaching me how to hold a bowling ball or a pencil then clearly I taught myself. This is what has happened. I do things like a weirdo. Are you happy now?!?! You’ve ruined me forever. I shall see you in therapy.
“Love is trembling happiness.” Khalil Gibran
I like that word. Trembling. I need to use that more.