Emmaprovement Continues...

As stated, here at UJ, we're all about sports which simultaneously encourage drinking and smoking. I wish there was a "booze and fags" Olympics, because then, I really think, I'd have a chance at the gold.

But, unfortunately, most sports demand a level of physical fitness that can really interfere with my lifestyle. Bowling, though, is right up my alley. Not only are pot bellies encouraged, they seem to be necessary to be taken seriously in the professional bowling community. I have a belly, ergo I am probably a very good bowler.

And how hard could it be? If properly obese American men can do it, it can't be that difficult. Well, it's seemingly a lot harder than you'd expect to throw a ball down a lane and hit all - if any - of the pins.

Okay, truth is, I've got pretty poor hand-eye coordination. Throw a ball at me - any ball - I have a panic attack, and generally flinch and cower like it's an incoming live grenade. Nine times out of ten, I won't be able to catch it. Pathetic, I know, but I wore Coke bottle glasses as a kid; I'm a bit feeble. Whatever, ball sports just aren't my thing.

But you'd think I'd be able to bowl, to occasionally hit most of the pins. Nope. Gutter ball. Almost every single time. Even using the lightest, prettiest pinkest ball, even bowling like a kid with two hands, even when I really, really concentrated, my ball still drifted slowly but surely into the gutter.

It became a little bit of a joke, so much so that the corporate suits bowling in the lane next to us started to give me some tips. They were kinda cute, but it's virtually impossible to feel sexy when you are wearing Ronald McDonald-style bowling shoes, so I didn't even bother flirting.