Hurtling through space in a cable-knit sweater

I did "I Want It That Way" karaoke last night at a bowling alley as a duet with a friend of mine, and let me tell, you ladies and germs, I killed. Like an Ebola-infected Milton Berle in a gymnasium full of refugees.

So one thing that Maryland has, and you don't, is duckpin bowling. It's just like regular bowling, but with a tiny ball without holes that you can wing down the lane.

Fun fact: Maryland's official state drink is milk.

More to the point, Maryland's official state sport is jousting. Motherfucking jousting.

But some time ago, there was an underground, revolutionary movement to change the official sport to duckpin bowling. But it didn't get enough traction. The man wasn't having it, and he crushed the hopes and dreams of little girls all over the world. Like this one.

photo credit

Or would have, if you could duckpin bowl somewhere else in the world. But you can't. Because Maryland's got it, and you don't. Unless you live in New England or Quebec, which apparently also have it.

One thing about bowling is, you get drunk while you're doing it. So now I have to shake off this hangover and go see the Fiery Furnaces tonight, which I'm less excited to do than I wish I were, notwithstanding my crush on Eleanor Friedberger, #3 on my list of top 10 hip rock chicks.

My blog just turned a year old, by the way. That post was one of my favorites, and happily, it was my most popular post. Or it would have, were it not for the late night rally sadly staged by something I wrote about watching movies with your parents. I took it down, but it still gets like 15 hits a day. Check out these search results from last Thursday and see if you can get the gist.

Porn-hunting preteens and dyslexic janitors with geysers of oedipal anxiety constitute the bulk of my audience, I think. I guess #8 thought that by repeating the real important words he's be more likely to get the good stuff. And I totally love the superfluous "y" on #10.

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