Free-Floating Hostility

Friday, March 04, 2005

Let Me Tell You Something, Pendejo. Nobody Fucks with Malvolio

Thanks to a glitch somewhere in the Mondavi Center's computer, we arrived at the Will Call window to collect out tickets for Tweflth Night, only to have a patient girl tell us that the computer had heard of us, yes, but not of our tickets, and oh, there are only single seats left, did we still want to buy them?


Denied Shakespeare, we sought an activity equally as uplifting. We found bowling. So we changed into jeans and drove to scenic West Sacramento, which is sort of skeevy. Capitol Bowl, abuts "Experience: The Adult Motel," whose name strains the language as well as the bounds of the good taste. We walked in (the bowling alley, not Experience) passing, I swear, Jay and Silent Bob, only to find the place crawling with teenagers. This should not have been a surprise, after all, I wiled away many a night of teenagehood sitting in bowling alleys leering at the bowling alley girls who I suspected were not quite as hot as the house party girls I had learned about from television. Anyway, Friday night is glowbowling night, which means they turn on a blacklight. I let Anna key in our names, and wound up with my scores attributed to Red. Red hit triple-digits in our second game, while Trini (Anna) turned in scores of 45 and 64, demonstrating marked improvement.

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