“Hey! Dudes, seriously. Take a look at those girls in that lane. They are so hot.”
I mean, sure. I guess I’ll buy that. The girls in question were, in fact, bowling in the lane next to us. “Us” represented a thrown-together conglomeration of probably a dozen medium-level acquaintances and good friends, out for a fun night of drinking and bowling. There were about as many guys as girls, although the girls were paying attention to each other, or at least pretending better. The guys were gathered around the beer, doing what guys do.
When it comes to bowling, I’m usually good for a solid 75, and occasionally if I get hot I can crack triple digits. On this day, I think I bowled a 17. Seriously, I’m just saying, bowling alley bars should be illegal. If you make us wait 45 minutes for a lane, then charge $3.50 for a pitcher, how are we expected to retain the ability to maneuver our own thoughts, let alone bowl? I drink classy beer because I am a snob, so I generally don’t expect $5 of beer to make me wasted.