no. 5: solo sam goes bowling

dear sweet jesus on the cross I went bowling. apparently I was feeling a little white trash and a lot athletic – both of which I pride myself on not being. I'm about as athletic as stevie wonder is a pro at those dumb letter charts at the eye doctor. this was interesting to say the least. being that this was activity five (I've now switched it from weeks to activities seeing as I'm finding myself sometimes wanting to do more than one a week and other times finding that I don't have time to even do one – fear not, the goal remains the same: 365 days of slightly awkward soloness and no less than 52 extremely awkward activities. anyways, I digress.) I wasn't even the slightest bit nervous this time around. no pep talk. no ass kicking. nothing. dare I say I was even a little excited about it? as I pulled in the parking lot all I could think of was my girlfriend telling me the story of when her date took her to a bowling alley and proceeded to accost her in his mini van before they went in. kills me every time! boys are so dumb.

I strolled in dressed in all black (apparently I was trying to look thin and mysterious for all of the hot bowlers that frequent the rochester meth lab turned bowling alley) to find the o.p.c hosting their ladies christmas party or some shit. where does one even find 35 other geriatric friends to bowl with and why am I constantly surrounded by the o.p.c? so I ask the suspect bowling alley runner man, "can I bowl?" to which he responds, "... um, yes?" whatever sir with your tude! he then proceeds to ask, "bowling alone?" oh shit. I panicked. I did the only logical thing I could think of. "yep! just me. got a big tournament tomorrow I need to practice for." um what? did I seriously just say that? I'm not sure who was dumber, me for saying it or him for believing it and asking a million questions about it. um no sir not sure where the tournament is held. it's a work function, for charity -- I'm sure I'm going to hell or some place equally as bad (like walmart on a friday night) for saying that. I think it's in birmingham (I don't even think birmingham has a bowling alley within 100 miles of it). who knows, maybe the fact that I brought my own bowling shoes really sold him on the idea that I was indeed a serious bowler. (don't judge. I stole them in a drunken stupor back in my college days. it was a dare. we were insane back then.)

the most curious man alive parks me in lane 22, the lane directly in front of his counter. I'm sure he just wanted to see how amazing I was since I lead on that I'm a tournament player. that, or he noticed that you could totally see my leopard bra through my shirt and wanted to stare for the next three games. not really sure why I keep leaving the house without realizing you can see my unmentionables through my top. amateur hour over here. I go get my vodka water (I don't have a drinking problem as I'm sure most of you are starting to speculate. at least I don't think so ... or choose to believe so.) and pick out the ball that's the lightest, seeing as I have zero strength in any part of my body. I ended up dating the left gutter for about 90% of my three games and bowled a consecutive 60, 65, and 57. I blame the lowest score during the last game on the fact that I literally ripped my nail in half during the seventh frame. bowling is facking dangerous and I'm never doing it again if it's going to ruin my manicure. I almost had to call my nail guy (american name: mitch) and a) bitch him out for the fact that shellac does not in fact make your nails like cement, and b) to have him come to my house for emergency surgery. the one and only reason I did not do either is because I didn't have his number. woe is me.

all in all though it was actually pretty fun. would I do it again alone? probably not. I think it's just one of those things that's more fun with others (and it's way more fun when the loser has to buy unlimited rounds of drinks instead of me just going home and eating an entire bag of goldfish in celebration/defeat). I'm ok with that though. I knew getting in to this that there would be some things that I would just love to do alone and that I would do alone time and time again, and then there would be others that would be fun once but probably wouldn't happen again.

things I learned:
1) the bowling alley 'bartender' makes a weaker drink than the 16 year old kid at the movie theatre, and I literally didn't think that was even possible. it's been three weeks and I'm still not over the excuse for a double vodka water that jeremy made me during the 'catching fire' premiere. fack him.
2) bowling shoes gave me worse blisters than the time I wore 5 inch heels on valentine's day and fell asses over applecart's down the main dining room stairs at coach insignia. yes, I had on a dress. no, my ebf did not help me up. dumbass.
3) I would rather lick thirty prisoners butts than ever have to pee in a bowling alley bathroom again. I'm getting a hepatitis shot tomorrow.
4) sometimes bowling alley employees offer up advice that stops you in your tracks. mr. inquisitive said, "don't rush it. just take your time." I knew he was talking about bowling but it just fit so well with what I'm doing that I couldn't help but smile. that statement can forever be attributed to so much more than bowling.

weakest vodka water cheers, y'all!

what even is this? I think this machine was literally used to fight in the vietnam war.

just wanted you all to revel in my 'vodka' water.

professionals wear leggings and their own bowling shoes, right?

so many things I want to say about these racks of balls, but I'll keep it classy since my mom wants me to start acting like a lady. you're welcome, mother.