Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Bowling Stinks

I could talk about painting the bedroom, but there are no pictures to show you of me painting in my underwear. Tomorrow, I want to lay the new floor, but damn it if work doesn't interfere with doing something I will enjoy.

But this is not about painting ... or floors. It's about bowling. I detest bowling. I thought that I would enjoy it. I gave it a proper chance, but the relationship with bowling has developed into something a lot less than a love affair.

There are several things wrong with bowling ... don't get me wrong, I have a great time with J-dogg at the alley, but there are several things about the experience that turn me off.

Bowling stinks. Anyone who ventures into a bowling alley departs reeking of a certain smell that is peculiar to bowling alleys. I cannot drive home without the windows open. And I can't shower fast enough after bowling to get rid of the stench. But that is only the beginning.

If I took someone to play golf for the first time, I wouldn't tell the person to wear golf shoes. It's not really necessary. Why then do I need to use special shoes for bowling? I go to the alley, and I have to shell out $2.50 for a pair of red, green, and white shoes that don't fit, no matter what size the guy gives me, for the opportunity to wear shoes that 8,000 other people already wore. Ugh! The anti-bacterial powder that the dude behind the counter so conscientiously shakes into the shoes is anti-bacterial. That's all well and good, but athlete's foot is caused by a fungus and plantar's warts are caused by a virus. So is leprosy.

Okay, I stopped by the counter to get a pair of special shoes to wear. Now, I need to get a bowling ball. It took a while, but I figured out that the balls are kind of like color-coded; so, I have to stick my fingers in only 47 swirly pink bowling balls to find one, into the three holes of which my fingers will fit. I try not to think about how many other people have stuck thei9r fingers in those 47 bowling balls and where their fingers might have been, but the thoughts linger out there on the edge of awareness along with the notion that the dude behind the counter doesn't particularly care about pouring that anti-bacterial powder into all those holes in all those bowling balls.

Here's another thing. We haven't even started bowling yet. It seems to be some kind of mandatory rule that I must buy fries for the team ... I think Kenny orders them and tells the lady behind the foods counter that I'm paying or something ... maybe, it's a bowlers' joke. I don't know. But there are no utensils in this bowling alley. If you want to eat fries or a burger or whatever the lady can make, you must use your fingers. That's a calorie-saving thought, isn't it?

You roll the ball down the wooden lane toward the bowling pins. Did you know that there is some kind of oil on the wood? It gets on the ball. It gets on your hands when you touch the bowling ball. Under no circumstance sould you ever go into the men's restroom at a bowling alley to wash your hands. The men's restroom at the alley has not been cleaned since well before the First Gulf War. Yeeech!

I hate bowling.

Posted by Bill at July 25, 2004 11:59 PM