|THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016).|
Alicia (other knitter, slow bomber, also TEAM SPANDEX BALLET) left with Sam (the back to back ZB bumper pre-neighbor, riding sexy blue) but the rest of us fuckin' sexy mini-bikers went on with the MAX to Hollywood Bowl.
Jam packed with falling pins and plastic cups o'beer. Bad tunes, leather soled shoes. Zipped off the pant legs and showed tha knees to the boys. Snapped pretty pretty picture of boys bowling over 13 pound balls of plasteek. Ran into my highschool sophmore crush, a Greshamite. Gresham is deth to any and all sane people of which there isn't enuff in this world (including me, I'm ded already).
4th first game.
Second game is serious stuff. We end up off-hand, bowling for left four rounds. I got a stryke for style, dancing on the wood and tripping backwards over the ball return for the next lane. Last place, nearly having a score of double-o-ZB.
My butt got a little attention two, getting bumped by solid gold and a yuppie bowler who wanted to make it two on the pabst. No.
Rode with Danimal and a Deadbuny and hitched a ride, passing the too lieter of "coca cola" around on the way. slightly tippy directions are better than normal. The droppoff and Danimals got custody of little lavender.
fumble and attempt with too-small key, before getting in. waved and the car moved two feet when i peeked out the window. walk back out and jumped the fence.
"need a push?"
"no, rolling a couple."
"enjoy the coca-cola." turned and walked back inside.
Pez/Lapis are you alright.
Or, are you just a little to high on something. Hopefully, it's legal.
Though I'm getting closer.
The misspellings were on purpose this time, but the misadventure not as funny in retrospect.