Shut the fuck up, Donnie

Cousin Luke and I returned from bowling, and I figured I'd say something about it as soon as I climbed out of his refrigerator.

I was cutting grass earlier today and decided to stop after cutting the front yard. I don't care what the back yard looks like. If the neighbors do, then they can drag their retired asses and lawn mowers to my yard during the work week while I'm, uh, working.

Any who, I was stacking firewood with a bunch of shit on my mind when I decided, "fuck it. I'm calling Luke, and we're bowling."

We agreed on a time, and bam! Bring on the corruption. Did you know they sell beer at bowling alleys? Well, three games, several more beers than that and one hour later, we were done humiliating ourselves on the hardwood.

I started out with a gutter ball, and got worse from there. I did manage to stay on my feet and not drop the ball, so apparently therapy works.

The hard part is that I took Luke two out of three games. Hard for him at least.



It was heaven. No one yelling, no one bitching, and the pins were still telling me to fuck off. It's like I never left.

Turns out they still sell beer. When that ends, we gots trouble.