I would like to thank everyone who let me bowl with them last night. I had a wonderful time, and bowled a 129.

I would like to thank Whiplash, for insisting that everyone who got a strike do a shot of Jagermeister, and I would like to thank myself for seconding the motion. I'd like to thank fate for making my first ball of the night--which was also the first ball I'd bowled in ten years--a strike. I'd like to thank everyone who escorted me to the bar and purchased the many Jagermeisters that followed that. And I'd like to thank Whiplash again for wearing pants that were plaid, corduroy, and glittery all at the same time.

I'd like to thank the fine folks at Stadium Lanes, for charging only $1 a game, and for still having the same monochromatic scoring computers they installed in 1982, which look like something from NASA. I'd like to thank NASA, John Glenn, the crew of Apollo 11, and all the eggheads who made it possible.

I'd like to thank my nephew Bob for coincidentally being there, for purchasing an undeserved shot of Jagermeister for me, and for telling his teammates that he loved them like an uncle.

I would like to extend special thanks to the people at Culligan for providing me with fresh, cold water this morning, and to the folks at Arco for providing metallic-yet-life-giving coffee. Really, if I had a bagel right now it would be nice, but I could live without it.

Most of all, I'd like to thank the gods for letting that #10 pin stand, so that I didn't get a turkey. Had that happened, I might not be here today.
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