I'm watching the Snorks. And the Smurfs. Jealous?*

* Sorry, my brain doesn't want to do clever titles this morning.

Last night was Night Ranger's birthday (25th), and he decided he wanted to have a low-key evening of bowling and beers. After last weekend's events, this was fine by me. Now, I'm not the greatest bowler in the world. Yes, my sisters and I used to bowl all the time when we were kids, but apparently it's not really acceptable for adults to bumper bowl, but whatever. My out-loud goal (the one I tell the people I'm with) when I bowl is to try and break 100, or at least not come in last place. My real goal when I bowl is to not fall flat on my ass in those slippery shoes. I have no problems making an ass of myself when I bowl, in fact I think it makes the game more fun when you throw in some theatrics, but I'd prefer to remain vertical.

Foot fungus aside, who doesn't love bowling shoes?

But I'm getting off track here. So, The G-Man, Night Ranger, Night Ranger's girlfriend, and I tied on our bowling shoes last night and, well, sucked ass, but we had a good time nonetheless. I was slightly concerned at the start of the evening whether or not I would have enough in common with Night Ranger's girl. Although I had met her once before, I was pretty sure she's eight or so years my junior. Seriously, when I asked her if she's ever watched Project Runway, she got all giddy and told me that her Fashion and Media teacher in high school used to have them watch it for class. Um, first of all, what's Fashion and Media? Second, did she just say when she was in high school? And thirdly, holy fuck, make me feel old. And then I was all sorts of jealous because who wouldn't have wanted to do Project Runway type stuff in high school art class? Awesome!

Turns out my concerns were unfounded. NR's girl and I had a fun time people watching and mocking the other bowlers at the alley (I truly believe a good time isn't necessarily dependent on the quality of the people you're with, but the quality of the people you're surrounded by. The lesser quality, the more material they provide for comic relief). On top of NR's girl being able to poke fun at others (believe it or not, some people aren't comfortable doing this. I don't like those people), she was also able to talk trashy reality shows as well. I'm not a huge reality show watcher, but I believe that if I'm going to have an informed opinion about such things (and I prefer all my opinions to be informed), then it is necessary to catch an episode or two of as many trash shows as I can (this does not, however, extend to Jersey Shore, which I refuse to watch on principle). At any rate, this is how most of our conversation with each other went that evening:

OBG: You know that one with the spoiled princesses who are taken away from their families...
NR's Girl: You're Cut Off!
OBG: Yeah that one, and there's that girl who won't change her daughter's diapers...
NR's Girl: Gia!
OBG: Is that her name? Yeah her. And then the one from NYC who everyone thought...
NR's Girl: Jaqueline! And they all think she's a call-girl because there's no way she works on Wall Street, and she's all, "but everyone does it."
OBG: Yeah, her.
OBG: And what's that one with Mel B?
NR's Girl: Dance Your Ass Off!
OBG: Right, and the one...
NR's Girl: Teen Mom!
OBG: Right, and...
NR's Girl: Celebrity Rehab!
OBG: Damn, you're good.
NR's Girl: I love reality TV.

Yeah, so conversation was good. And the evening was fairly uneventful, despite the fact that the words, "Who wants to do a shot?" were uttered. And then shots were done. Twice. Usually whenever that question is asked, my finger immediately goes to the tip of my nose and I scream, "Not it!" And then I'm all like, "Wait, what kind?" Which I said last night, and then Night Ranger (who obviously doesn't know me so well) was all, "We don't have to do straight-up liquor if that helps," and I was all, "But I'd rather do straight-up shots," and NR's girl was all, "Wait, you don't like mixed shots? Wow. OBG is hardcore." But I decided to take one for the team since it was Night Ranger's birthday and all, and I happily did a Kamikaze shot and a B-52 shot.

 Like liquor, these guys are better in small, shot-size doses.

On a side note, if you're a bartender and customers order four B-52 shots, and your first response is to ask, "What's in it?" and then your second response is to ask if it's the one with Jager and Red Bull (that's a California Car Bomb, dude), you might want to call in back-up. You definitely don't want to start asking your customers what beer they'll need to drop their shot in. (Although, in his defense, when Night Ranger first asked me if I "liked B-52s," I responded, "Yeah, the music in here does kind of suck, are you going to select something better?" and gestured towards the jukebox. His puzzled look made me realize that a- he meant the shot and b- he probably didn't even know who the B-52s were.) 

 Needless to say, our shots looked nothing like this.

So yeah, that was my weekend excitement. There was also that gun show I attended, but I'd hate to have you all super envious of my super sweet weekend, so I'll save that tale for another time, but I will mention that after attending a gun show in Virginia, I felt like I needed to bathe in Patchouli and find some hippie drum circle in a field to join in order to balance out my Karmic energy. Or something like that. How'd your weekend go?