McBowlerson

When we first got to this city, I was a little concerned with how cool everyone was. It just seems too exhausting to keep up with. Your pants have to be tighter, your shoes have to be more neon, your scowl more scowley.

But the longer we’re here, the more we realize that very few of the people who act like douchey New Yorkers are actually from New York. It’s like this special douche bag peacock effect, meant to distract people from finding out that they’re really from Topeka, Kansas. (No offense, Topeka)

In fact, we’ve found most people to be totally normal and nice and not too cool to join, say, our Wednesday night advertising bowling league.

Even more refreshing is the fact that nobody on our team cares how bad I suck ass at bowling. Naturally, the missus is like a regular Walter Ray Williams Jr. (what? You don’t know Ray Ray?), rolling consistent 120’s.

I, on the other hand, am lucky to break a hundo on any given night, which, according to Google, makes me a regular Michael Fechke.

Whoever that is.

Anyway, here’s a blurry picture of 4/7ths of our team, entitled Bowler? I Hardly Know Her.