I bowled a 56 this weekend. And no, I did not forget a "1" in front of that "56." I bowled a FIFTY-SIX in one whole game. Man, I should give lessons.

I don't think I should bowl on Saturdays at 2 PM anymore. Because do you know who bowls on Saturdays at 2 PM? Children. Children who steal the only balls that I could bowl as high as 80 or 90 with. Birthday parties, cub scouts, flag patrol kids, you name 'em. The little snot-nosed shitheads left me with an eight-pound Barbie pink ball that had holes half the size of my fingers. It was either that or a 12-pound beast. Do you realize how heavy 12 pounds is?!

However, I got over my suckiness by watching Darren obliterate those dastardly pins by throwing a very heavy ball very hard with very good form to earn a very high score. Wow. I never thought I'd be a sucker for muscles until I got myself a boy who actually had them. Now I'm a bumbling, drool-soaked fool.

Speaking of that lovely young man, would you like to know how to make my heart melt? Be a big, strong man most of the time, but every now and then slip and say something like, "I'm yours forever." Just don't be put off when I say, "What?!" in that completely incredulous tone. I love it. Really.