Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--We’ve got five or six inches of snow out there this morning,
and the wind is tearing it up.The
schools are closed, and it’s the kind of day where everything is the
color of pewter.It’s also
bitingly cold and snow is swirling around in a fine mist, just looking
for an open collar to fly down.
And it’s April 16!
Whatever.As Mark Twain once
said, everybody talks about the weather, pass the beer nuts. Or was that
Norm on Cheers? I always get those two mixed-up.
--We went bowling on
Sunday, if you can believe it.I
used to bowl a lot when I was a youngling, but it’s down to maybe
once a year at this point.Every
time I go I vow to do it more, then don’t.Then Don’t is going
to be the title of my autobiography.
Back in the day the local bowling alley gave every student in
Dunbar
a card that entitled us to one free game of bowling, Monday through
Friday, during the summer.Shoe
rentals are extra, and please don’t forget the snack bar and pinball
machines….
My friends and I went over there every day, every single day, and took
them up on their offer – much to the chagrin of a child-hating old
bastard with a head the size of a softball, who supposedly “managed”
the place.We drove that man
to the brink of insanity, and had a great time doing it.
I got banned for life at least five times.I seem to remember a pin
coming back through the ball return, but that would be impossible,
wouldn’t it?Perhaps it
was just one of my goals?
And I remember us pushing the button that caused the gate to drop, just
as someone let loose of a ball.CRASH!Yes, that was one of the classics….And I remember us sneaking behind the pin setters and throwing
foreign objects in there, like shoes and whatnot.Good times.You
ain’t lived until you’ve watched the setter come down, and instead
of a nine pin, there’s a can of Lysol.
And I remember my friend Mike taking a Blow Pop out of his mouth, and
just hurling it down the way.The
thing went end over end, from about lane two to lane nine, and finally
came to rest in some kid’s Bobby Brady hair.And it was in there deep.I didn’t think I’d ever stop laughing.
And
this went on for years.After a
while I became a pretty darn good bowler.Not great, but good.If
I’d stayed with it, I might be really
good by now.But you know how
it goes.
On Sunday we took the Secrets and a
couple of their friends bowling, and Toney even participated.It was a blast.I bowled a
horrible 109 (my first ball went straight into the gutter, as if I’d
been aiming for it), then 154.
By the end of the second game I was starting to get my groove back.But at $3.75 per bowler, per game…Yeah, we stopped after two.When
did bowling become a rich man’s sport, anyway?It cost us fifty bucks!
There was a woman bowling beside us in a full-on winter coat, buttoned
all the way up to the top.I have
no idea…And on the other side
was some fancy-ass dude who’d brought his own shoes from home, and was
sporting all manner of apparatus strapped to his wrist.Wotta douche.He’s the
bowling alley equivalent of the slightly-too-old guy who used to hang
out at every roller rink, and skate backwards with the wind blowing
through his feathered hair.
Unfortunately though, none of this
stuff happened.
--After we got rid of the extra
kids, we went to the Chinese buffet again.Yum.I’m probably losing
my edge, but that place seems damn
good to me.Here’s
what my fortune cookie told me. I was
thankful for the information.
--On Saturday afternoon Eninen
and their passel of translucent children passed back through town.We had an early dinner with them, and then everyone went to the
park, before the royal family hit the road again.
During the meal Nostrildamus couldn’t keep his eyes off the TV. I
don’t think he said three words to us.He doesn’t believe in owning a television, but is sure as shit
transfixed when he’s around one.
When the weather report came on he apparently wanted to hear it, but the
place was really crowded and loud.So
he got up and pressed his head against the speaker of the TV, putting on
a big show.Everyone in the place
was laughing, and talking about him out of the corners of their mouths.
Here’s a pic I snapped with
my cell phone.And this
is the middle translucent’s high-waters and used sneakers that are at
least three sizes too big.They cause him to repeatedly trip and fall flat on his face; the
shit’s like clown shoes. But, dammit, they’re recycled, and that’s
the important thing.
--And that’s about all I can
muster today.I’ll leave you
now with a question based on a story Toney heard this weekend.
One of the kids we took bowling is apparently getting “mouthy” with
his parents, and getting Ds on his report card, etc.So the mother punished him by getting his hair cut real short.The kid’s eleven, and it’s apparently one of his greatest
fears.She told him that if he
didn’t straighten up, she’d take him back and have it taken down to
a “two.”
I thought that was, um, creative.Kinda
cruel, but definitely creative.It
reminded me of sixth grade, when somebody carved the word FUCK into the
bathroom door.The principal came
to our room and demanded to know who did it.When nobody confessed, he ordered the door removed.
These were little bathrooms, one in every class.And we had no door until someone fessed up.We’d go in there and have to stand at a 45-degree angle to pee,
and the girls had it even worse.It
didn’t take long for the “artist” to step forward; there was a bit
of social pressure.
Can you imagine something like that happening today?They’d have the principal brought up on charges, Bill
O’Reilly would be calling for his execution, and the students would be
forced to undergo intense therapy.You
know it’s true.
What’s the most creative form of punishment you’ve ever been
subjected to?Or, for that
matter, heard about?Tell us
about it, won’t you?
