Guttersnipe

The only thing better than true happiness is absolutely not giving a shit. This truth we, the nihilist association of something or other, hold to be self-evident. In perhaps a similar vein, the only thing better than luck is dumb luck.

Dumb luck has served me well. Rather than the fortune some profess must be engendered through hard work and preparation, I prefer the variety that can only be bestowed upon a man when he falls into it ass-backwards.

My cushy job was not attained through hard work and dedication to a trade or craft about which I am passionate. None of the four or five universities and colleges I briefly attended would ever think of giving me a qualification of any kind bearing their mark. No, I landed in it out of the sheer chance that the guy who hired me to do construction one year would be married to a woman who needed to fill a job at a local utility company the next summer. Not only was it well-paid it consisted mainly of walking around neighbourhoods, invading peoples’ private property at will, petting their dogs, and punching numbers into what amounted to a giant game boy. By now I’ve tumbled rearwards and akimbo to the cusp of my incompetence working in the offices of that same outfit. Vacation, benefits, pension — all more than I have earned and I can retire at the ripe age of 53 to enjoy seven full years of compensated sloth before my inevitable demise due to several alcohol- and inactivity-related ailments.

At this past week’s bowling night, dumb luck reared its cartoonish, bobbling head once again.

This was the first game with my new ball, cradled gently in my new bag. Oh, yessiree they once belonged to another but tonight that well-worn ball and bag became one with my right hand.

I was throwing rocks right out of the gate with a game-high 143 to lead our group to an opening match win. Where before I was forced to muscle a 13-pound house ball down the lane in a lame attempt to topple the wooden foes assembled at the end, now my 16-pound new best friend did all the work for me. A gentle cradling of the weighty beast and a rhythmic stroke allowed me to simply follow through and watch the marauding orb obliterate all in its path. Oh! What glorious aural delights a strike sets upon one’s senses. It was a sign of good things to come.

In the second set, while my 118 was second-highest on our side, I was bested by three of our opponents. Regardless, we took the overall game by a mere 6 points. This may have been due to the broken toe one of theirs was sporting, leaving her struggling just to get it down the lane let alone live up to her average.

In the third go I was cruising along merrily, halfway through ten frames and leading both sides once again when my focus was shattered like the innocence of a young child waking at the sound of Santa Claus arriving late on Christmas Eve only to stumble upon the jolly fat man himself porking their drunken mother over a toppled milk glass and the remnants of home-baked cookies, crumbled alongside their chance of ever welcoming the tooth fairy through an open window.

Riding high after yet another clean frame I returned to the table to find a lovely six-foot-tall Jamaican woman chatting with my teammates. She was on vacation visiting family in town and, while the hosts worked, had been rolling a quick game to pass time before a movie.

We talked between my turns at the line and, quite clearly owing solely to dumb luck as charm and looks were off the table, she was quite interested in my vintage bowling equipment.

After the game concluded with a third-straight victory, my teammate Lily Liver suggested I go find her at the cinema. It not being my style to follow lone women into dark theatres without their express bidding and since my ass was already sore from the game, I declined. Nevertheless, we went out for drinks and hot wings the next night and a couple times more before she had to leave and she was not only a delight but also a chef who cooked multiple meals for me — I had my first taste of curried chicken foot — and even put them in those little takeout containers for later enjoyment.

It was a far greater fortune than I expected at league night and certainly more than I should receive. No matter. The most important thing about lady luck is to take what she’s got for you whenever she wants to give it, wherever she wants to put it, and not to ask a bunch of jackassy questions afterwards. Thanks to what can only be the sweet touch of Gefion, I have a third straight win, a spring in my step, and this thanksgiving weekend I not only ate my fill of turkey but of Jamaican, too.

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BC Dick
An aspiring nihilist who lives in British Columbia and feels nothing while watching the Seahawks, Blue Jays, Lions, Canucks, and several local minor league teams.
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Gumbygirl

I’m tired, later taters!

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Brick Meathook

There once was a lad in Japan
who kept all his farts in a can
this can he did store
on the floor by the door
so one day he could smell them again

WCS

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A teammate of mine did something in the same ZIP code to this once.

ThePirateSloth

Someone help! I’m watching baseball! Sober!

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

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ThePirateSloth

I mean, I ate a good edible. So you know, sober.
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Gumbygirl

Me too! And it wasn’t too weedy, praise Allah! I also smoked a little bit o’ green. I am relaxed, oh yes I am!

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BugEyedBoo

The fuck am I looking at there, wax paper? Or is that some kind of new rolling paper technology, unknown by us cavemen.

Gumbygirl

I have these shittay papers I got for free at the weed store , I think they’re called Raw or something? They are thin like spring roll wrappers. I fucking hate them . Give me JOB’s, or Zigzags, please, I am Old Skool!

Gumbygirl

Yeah, the thin ones. But not see-through, that’s just crazy! Did I ever tell yinz Gumby has a copy of Cheech and Chong’s Big Bambu album with the ginormous paper in it? It’s groovy, man!

ThePirateSloth

Yea, Raw papers are shit. I mean, sure they’re free, but they absolutely make you cough. I don’t roll anymore, but I used to use Berner? Burner? Something like that, if you’re in OR/CA.

Gumbygirl

I’m in CA.

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

Announcers are really pissing me off talking about a manager’s decision in 2017 that might have cost the Dodgers the series against the Asterisks. But you know why the Dodgers really lost that series? CAUSE HOUSTON FUCKING CHEATED.

BugEyedBoo

I just watched The Redeem Team on Netflix, the story of the 2008 Olympics USA basketball team, because I didn’t feel like watching much. You get all the Coach K you can stand, and Kobe’s small heart grew three sizes that day.

clint greasewood

Battlebots
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2Pack

Holy shit

Brick Meathook

do not stand behind that

ballsofsteelandfury

That last line was poetry.

Well fucking done, good sir!

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

THIS GUY BALLS OF STEEL AND FURY I CALL HIM A HIGH SCHOOL ALGEBRA TUTOR CAUSE HE IS HELPING SOLVE PROBLEMS.

WCS

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As someone who used to bowl a lot, just HOW and WHY?!

BugEyedBoo

Ball went in a little high to the pocket, and didn’t have any drive. No drive, no five.

Brick Meathook

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BugEyedBoo

Easier than you would think, although if you’re leaving that, you’re having problems with aim. This one is way harder.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98g4l4laWdw

Senor Weaselo

Yanks win, Rangers win… now if only the Mariners had held on.

2Pack

A secret link… to a secret place. A place where bowling is spoken. Pro tips offered in comment. We have arrived. We are TEAM. Now we just need the gaudy shirts.

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

This man is from Jacksonville, Florida? Really? You’re not pulling my leg?

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WCS

A nacho cheese-stained wife beater t-shirt that wished to be a real person.

Sharkbait

Smoothies are back on the menu

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WCS

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Brick Meathook

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SonOfSpam

Angels’ employee who got the opiates for Tyler Skaggs (and others, but Skaggs is the dead one) got 22 years in prison today.

Think I’d rather have Skaggs’ future than the dealer’s.

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

I mean if he can get his hands on opiates he’ll probably be a pretty important guy in prison.

Senor Weaselo

He’s the Riz, nobody beats him!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CjQKFoUdk4g

Senor Weaselo

I may have also just frightened Grandpa Weaselo.

WCS

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Forgot that Artie banged Elaine.

Brick Meathook

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BugEyedBoo

If you’ve already looked up your beginner bowling knowledge, my apologies. If not, here’s what I’ve got:

  • Don’t aim at the pins; they’re not going anywhere. Aim at the marks. Each mark is on the same board as the one at the center of a pin. Use that practice before the game to figure out where to put your feet and what mark in front of you that you want the ball to roll over.
  • Moving left while shooting at your same strike mark moves the final target right, and vice versa. Rule of thumb is that moving your feet three boards moves the final target five boards, or one whole pin location.
  • If you put a ball on either side of a single pin, just touching the pin, that whole arrangement takes up over half the width of a lane. That’s as close as you need to get to hit a pin. Our old buddies the 7 and 10 pins are a little harder.
  • You don’t have to keep your wrist crazy stiff, but don’t let it get all floppy either.
  • Like pretty much every sport, follow through.

One nice thing is that all of those bits of advice are applicable if/when you want to get the fancy gear and start throwing a hook. Good luck out there!

Senor Weaselo

But what about the bumpers?

BugEyedBoo

If you don’t hit the bumper you get a zero.

Game Time Decision
BugEyedBoo

Watching that robot reminds me of me, back in my day.

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Brick Meathook

This thread is like a secret club

WCS

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Do we get special jackets?

Sharkbait

Excellent

Brick Meathook

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Game Time Decision

Thought we’d all get matching ball bags

BugEyedBoo

Got one already. Holds two. But thanks.

SonOfSpam

With glory holes!

WCS

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The best kind.

litre_cola

I also just tried to post it!

Mr. Ayo

You guys are crushing it! This post must be cursed.

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

I tried cloning it; that didn’t work either.

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

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WCS

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