Bride Elect(Evolution of a Bridezilla)
Chapter Forty-Four—I Like Big Balls—I Cannot Lie…
On the night my maid of hour had promised me we would find a patio somewhere and have girlie drinks, she arrived at 6—sharp! We were going to have dinner, and drinks, before our monthly Stitch’n’Bitch—it was the only time we could do it given the demands of our work schedules. I was okay with that, and as I packed my knitting projects, I gave her all the wedding updates. The bouquets were finished and currently enjoying some celebrity status on Facebook; there were some photos earmarked especially for her from the Hostless Luncheon; my sister bought me a wedding party of smurf figurines, and a bride hoodie (which I intended to wear that night); and my head piece was ueber goddessy.
We went to a locally owned book store. It was one of my favourite spots because it was locally owned, and its restaurant was also local and licensed. They had a modest patio—it was all good. As we walked to the patio, the door opened and Bammo—there sat most of the Stitch’n’Bitch crew! I was also informed that after a sufficient consumption of alcohol—I would be taken bowling—ten pin (the balls were bigger he hehe he).
When my maid of honour got married, we got her liquored up, and took her five-pin glow bowling for her staggette. At the time, she seemed to become something of a bowling savant. We formed this viable theory as we watched her stagger up to the lane, lob the ball, and get strikes and spares in steady succession: alcohol made her bowl better. We also dressed her up in special shirt and head-wear that announced to the world that she was marrying an army man—in hindsight, we were too quick to credit the alcohol for her newfound bowling prowess.
My friends did not dress me up—they just liquored me up. I had not bowled ten pin since my university days. I have been told that it is easier to bowl ten pin, but I don’t know. For me the easiest modality of bowling is BINGO Bowl. Usually, I manage to “ace” all the crappy shots. Sadly, I also score higher during the novelty bowls. It is sad, because if I tried bowling hopping on one foot or skipping to the foul line during a normal game, my score would probably be on the negative scale; however get me to bowl this way for novelty’s sake and I “clean up”. It was becoming apparent that alcohol was not the magical elixir that would turn me into a king-pin bowling savant. We had to revisit our earlier theories regarding alcohol and its effect on bowling.
At first we wondered if maybe my maid of honour had been a super bowler all the time and just faked it to totally scam us during her staggette. It was a viable theory, at least until we saw her bowl at my staggette. She threw the ball backwards/behind her back—three times (sober). I only managed to do that once, and I was more gin than plasma at the time. We then began to postulate: perhaps goofy head-gear was the secret to my friend’s earlier bowling prowess. After all, I do recall winning an office bowing match one December. I had bought my team some goofy-yet festive head ware because we were up against some former farm girls and Phys. Ed. Teachers. We beat the other team (my then boss’s team) so thoroughly that she went into her retirement sulking about how much luckier than bowling adept we were. It haunted her.
So, I was not wearing goofy head-gear, I was drunk, and I think I managed a score in the low sixties during each game. Considering that a decent score was probably more like a 90-120, I could not understand how it was that I was in the lead. It hardly seemed possible that my friends were worse bowlers than I am. Although they deny it, I think they were trying really hard to let me win. Sadly, no one throws more gutter balls than I do. I think the distraction of holding big balls is too much of a distraction.