Two nights ago I bowled a personal record as well as averaging a 180 for my three games: 161, 214, 167. Here's the score sheet from the 214 game:

9/....X....X....9/....X....X....X....s8 1....7/....X 3 6

Needless to say, I'm way too proud of this.

OK!

It's been a long time since I last posted. I got writer's block and lost a lot of motivation to write anything, most especially after that entry on cheeseburger links. Perhaps it WAS the cheeseburger link that sucked the life out of me. I'm still recovering, and I think I will retain that status for the rest of my life, sadly. Anyway I do have a few things to talk about. Among them are (1) the carnies at the Fun Frolic, (2) getting a free brunch at the Tudor Room, and (3) my revolutionary idea for men's bathrooms.

(1) Ok, so Saturday night we tried getting drunk at Anthony's place (www.aleong.com). The goal was: to achieve drunkenness and migrate to the Fun Frolic. I don't like to drink if I know I'm not going to get face-meltingly wasted, so I had half a beer and called it quits while Brian (his blog) punished himself with 6 shots of "Ronrico Rum."
Let me say a little about "Ronrico Rum" before going on---this shouldn't bear the label of alcohol; in fact it shouldn't bear the label of anything consumable, much less even anything at all. It should be under the poisons section in the supermarket with neon green warning stickers all over it telling you to give it to rats and/or to pour it down your drains to de-clog them. Brian took 6 shots of it, with no chaser. Way to go there, buddy. Anthony also gave up the quest to drunkify himself, as had I, and we set off in my bug toward the Fun Frolic.

There, we were whisked away from the comfortable settings of real life and placed among a wonderland of funnel cakes, roller coasters that plug into an outlet, and rows upon rows of port-a-pottys that let off the most enchanting aromas*. We couldn't stay long, as they closed 10 minutes after we arrived. So, plan B: go to nearby party. Got there, met some IUTV girls we knew, and drank some beer. Sounds pretty normal, right? Well NO! The carneys came!! They arrived in two large pickup trucks, kindly asked the host if there was a party, and before he could even finish indirectly turning them away, they said 'Alright yeah!' and spread throughout the house akin to the way germs attack the body. I couldn't--nor did I want to--get close enough to verify if they really did smell of cabbage. Check out http://aleong.com/blog/index.html for a more in-depth analysis of our carney experience. My personal favorite was the happy dumb guy in his 50's who talked at Brian. Like any good party, it ended with one of the hosts angrily smashing a shitload of stuff in the backyard, including a fooseball table, among other things, in which from what I gather was some form of protest. I believe alcohol was involved.


(2)
As you can see from the diagram above, I visited the Tudor Room at the IU Memorial Union today for brunch. Not only was it special "Sunday brunch;" today was Father's Day AND the weekend of the graduating class of 1439AD's reunion. Oh, this is just f**king great, isn't it? Apart from having been lambasted with the overwhelming smell of Metamucil and ancient, orthopedic shoes, Anthony, Brian and I easily resembled young hoodlums ready to pick the pockets of the living-dead there at the Tudor Room and thus, as such, THE BITCH SAT US DOWN COMPLETELY LAST. We stewed in the holding cell for a good 90 minutes as herds of flappy skin and mothball-ridden clothing crawled on by to their seats. It came down to just us 3 and one other party which had parents, young children, and a Flappy Skinned One of its own. Guess what happened. GUESS WHAT HAPPENED. The table that the lady said was being made for us, after Brian's complaint just 5 minutes prior, was given to them.

We were livid.

Finally, after being sat and well into the meal, our waiter (the same guy who gave our table away) came and told us to just leave after we were done eating. Wait...what? Was he now kicking us out? "Say what, muhfugga" I told him. He clarified: we didn't have to pay since we waited so long. Oh really, is that so, hmm? Well I got news for ya holmes, I wasn't gonna pay shit anyway. They got off lucky this time by telling us first we wasn't gonna pay. Damn straight. I actually think the aforementioned Bitch knew what she was doing the entire time by bypassing us on the list, and if we really waited through all of it then she would have told our waiter to comp our meals. This is my theory. So anyway we got our meals for free and boy did I rape the Tudor Room after I found out the meal was on them! Boo ya!

(3) I've decided to postpone writing the part on improving men's restrooms for another blog entry all its own. I've been writing this one for who knows how long and I really don't wanna blow my wad** all on one entry. So tomorrow I will finish this one off and possibly start another.

Sunny days have returned here.

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*these could have also been rides; I'm not sure.
**not my term. I heard it from a businesswoman lecturing my T347 class. So there.

As a naive child, I never used to believe that it took longer to assemble a fast food burger with less toppings than the default burger.

It all makes complete sense to me now.

Hmmph.

I have a dishwasher.

This dishwasher has wheels on it. I have to roll it over to the sink. There I connect one tube to the tap of the sink, and a cord to an outlet. I turn the sink on. That is all I do. Question:

Water goes into the dishwasher, but.....


WHERE DOES IT GO?????11?