(diaryland) December 15, 2001 - 5:20 p.m.

On Thursday night, I went bowling.

Boy, am I bad at bowling. I bowled two big fat nothings in a row. No-one else did. They were all hitting those pins like crazy people.

Then the top button flew off my pants. This was the worst thing that could happen. It meant I had to somehow keep my pants on and bowl at the same time. My pants were being held up by sheer willpower. There was even less chance I was going to score at all well. I would pick up my bowling ball, waddle very carefully to the line, then stand really still, leaning down just a tad and letting the ball go thinking, �PLEASE STAY UP, STUPID PANTS!� Then I�d waddle off. Making pins fall down on the other side of the room was way down on my list of priorities.

So, not only did I look like a shit bowler, I also looked like I needed to take a shit. I lost, but everyone expected that. Roland came second. Michael won with a technique that involved taking huge run-ups and hurling the ball like an ogre or something. It was hilarious, yet effective. Albert used a ball so heavy that he kept tripping over all the time. David graciously came second-last without looking silly at any stage in the game. He never looks silly, even the time he was the only person to come to our cocktail party wearing a tux.

I want to go bowling again, this time with more sturdy pants.

And don�t even think about writing in my guestbook, �Ever heard of a belt?� Because belts aren�t infallible! I can think of millions of ways a belt could fuck up! What if it catches on fire while I�m running down the street, chump?

Drunk ninja will find you, wherever you hide!