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July 17, 2002
At times, I have been known to tell you sweet lies. A choir of angels descended upon the station wagon in which I was conceived and said, yea, this one shall be blessed with the tongue for sweet lies and strange truths, and he shall, in the course of his travels, cause many to say, simply, "Damn."

I say this to you because I want you to understand that I tell no lies in this entry.

Let me attempt to establish a frame of reference for this shit. In March of this year, one week after shitheads with guns took my wallet, I bowled my career high, 153, in a game entitled "Fear Gets Its Ass Beat". This powerful bowling performance was intended to communicate to shitheads, on behalf of myself and the righteous of the world, that we will not be cowed, that we do not have fear, and that we cannot be deterred from doing what is right.

Last night, then, was my second week in our bowling league. We did not win any games last week and were mired in last place, although our cumulative pin total was way higher than that of many other teams. This lack of winning is no good. And controversy continues to rage over whether our team ace agreed to wear her pajamas to league night. I am willing to concede the point that having fire engines on the pajamas was entirely my invention, but I think that the very fact that the pattern of the pajamas is now the central issue of debate serves as evidence that the initial agreement was made.

Oh. But these things are so small. I cannot even tell you. But I must.

We were matched up against a team of employees of the bowling alley.

I can be silent no longer.

193.

A travel guide, to stone-cold motherfuckerdom. Authored by me. Published last night. Let's Go: Stone Cold Motherfuckerdom. By _MONKEY_, Team #12.

Let me tell you a few things about 193. It is a high number. It is forty pins above my previous high. Several strikes and spares must be rolled in consecutive fashion in order to reach that number.

I rolled those strikes and spares.

Damn.

Team #12, formerly known as Team Pajama Party, won a game. At last. My six-game average: 150, a full thirty pins above my non-league average.

Come with me to the land. We will drink wine and watch ninja movies dubbed in Spanish, critiquing their shitty ninja technique, because we are authorized to do so. Because, in the land of stone-cold motherfuckerdom, we are kings.

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