Why I Don't Bowl

Respect Hough Toes, America.

I'm good at a lot of stuff.  Not to brag or anything, but I've got a unique skill set that, I feel, puts me a few steps ahead of the herd, so to speak.

For example. . .

I can pick up small objects and open doors with my toes.
I can say the alphabet backwards flawlessly faster than most people can say the alphabet the regular way.
I can have someone murdered without consequence so long as they're willing to fly over to Ghana and meet me in the roadside village of Sankpala, no questions asked.

Wanna know what I can't do?  Bowl.

At King's Bowling in Orlando

Waiting for shoes.

I suck at bowling, and I don't say I suck at a lot of things.  My deficiency in bowling ranks up there with my inability to spell and/or ice skate.  Can't do it.  And never has there been more proof of this than when Kris and I took the girls out to King's Bowling Lanes.

Behold:

This bowling joint was actually pretty cool.  Reasonably priced, with a full bar and restaurant.  We ended up scoring free pop for the evening when our waitress forgot to charge us for it and said 'screw it, it's on the house.'  Too bad the same couldn't be said for my beer orders. . .

Victory dance.

The party bowling next to us hogged the metal ramp-thingy kids use for their bowling balls, which sucked at first. . . but considering they were using it for a severely crippled dude in a wheelchair, we let it slide.  The girls were still able to 'throw' the balls down the lanes anyway, and the bumpers ensured they knock down more pins than Yours Truly.

Taking a smack to the balls after hitting my one and only strike of the game.

Tension builds over the course of twenty minutes as Alayna's ball slowly creeps towards the pins.  A couple times we had to have employees come over and recover bowling balls, which would occasionally stop before hitting the pins.

Abby puts her whole body into preparing to throw the ball. . .

. . . then she just drops the shit on the lane.

After the party next to us left, we were able to snag the metal ramp-thing.  It didn't help much.

Read 'em and weep.  I suck at bowling.

- Brian

White People Mall

As you may recall from previous posts, we Houghs fancy any family outting that ends up with us staring at animals in captivity.

Hence our obsession with Sea World.

With only one more day left until our annual family passes were set to expire, we decided to enjoy one last afternoon of taking pictures of our kids watching dolphins swim aimlessly about a tank.

Unbeknownst to us at the time of our leaving the house, every single person in Orlando was struck with the exact same idea.

We had never seen Sea World so backed up; it took a half hour just to pull up to the ticket window.  Once through the parking entrance, the lot itself was packed full of idiots who were doing the exact same thing we were trying to do.  Knowing that inside the park would be even worse (Seaworld's thoroughfares bottleneck like crazy, making a simple action like 'walking around' nerve-wracking as it is), we convinced our kids that Sea World was 'too busy' and decided, instead, to try out a new mall so Yours Truly could return a shirt.

Which sounds just as cool as 'Sea World' when you're four years old.

Favorite Shirt, ca. 2008 (feat. tax deduction #1)

Kris bought me a western-style shirt for Christmas from Sheplers - the clothing line that constructed my all-time favorite shirt (which I've worn religously since I was 19 - see above).

I hadn't been able to find another one like it since, so when she stumbled across this store recently, she promptly snatched up a shirt for me.  The fit and material was the exact same, but - seeing how I'm pretty anal when it comes to clothing - I wanted to see if they had the shirt in a different color.  So, with Seaworld out of the equation, so we decided to make a family outing out of it.

Shepler's is located in the Festival Bay Mall, which sits near Inter-national Drive, deep within the bowels of Tourist Hell.  We braced ourselves for the inevitable, knowing that anything touristy in Orlando means traffic congestion, packs of pale-skinned fanny-packers, and lots and lots of stupid people (see botched Seaworld venture above).

You can therefore imagine our shock and surprise upon entering the Festive Bay Mall and finding it utterly deserted. . .

The place was nearly empty.  Maybe a dozen other folks walking around.  That's it.  What freaked me out more than the lack of people, however, was the lack of stores.  You'd figure a shopping complex deep inside enemy territory would be chock-full of people ready to burn off the extra cash in their pockets, but nay - nearly all the storefronts we passed were barred up.  In fact, besides Sheplers, we really only saw three other places that displayed any sign of human life:  Outdoor World, a blacklit put-put course and arcade, and a Cinemaplex.

Seriously.

To make things creepier (if that were at all possible) was that the mall was in pristine condition - not like other decaying shopping centers I've had the misfortune of strolling through.  It was clean, well-lit, and looked like a decent place. . . just without, you know, people and stores.  Those individuals we did come across all had one thing in common:

They were all white.

Now, I'm no racist, but I think it's pretty fair to say that here in Central Florida, our demographics are fairly misrepresentative of the rest of the country.  We're an urban melting pot, and our diversity in ethnicity and culture reflects that.

 . . so why the hell do whites gravitate towards the Festival Bay Mall while all others avoid it like the plague?  What is it about Outdoor World and Shepler's Western Wear that screams 'WHITE PEOPLE!!' and discourages non-white folks from-

Oh.  Nevermind.

I guess I answered my own question.

She was pretty pissed we failed to get her this for Christmas.

This closed store was completely empty. . . except for a gigantic, yellow submarine.  So if any of you guys out there are in the market for a new submarine, and fancy yourself the color yellow, I believe I may be able to help you out. . .

Anyway, here's a few things I learned during our visit to White People Mall:

1.)  I should've been buying shirts at Shepler's my entire adult life.  Holy crap, that store rules.  Had I done so, my life would probably be way awesomer.  I'd probably be stunt man or a bounty hunter or something badass along those lines instead of a measly middle school history teacher.  And I'd probably drive a more bitchin' car.  With racing stripes.  AND I'd probably have a super-sweet mustache.

I'm just sayin'.

2.)  I need a gun.  That's the first thing that crossed my mind when I walked into the Outdoor World/Bass Pro Shop.  Not that I'm big on shooting guns, but whenever you pass by a wall display of hundreds of firearms it's nigh impossible to not imagine yourself shooting bad guys and dangerous animals and whatever other nastiness might try killing your family members.

Am I right, folks?

3.) I miss mid-Michigan.  Not all the time or anything, but whenever you find yourself surrounded by that redneck, boot-stompin', townie-vibe you can only find in a sporting goods store or a county fair, you can't help but miss rural Clare County.   The Festival Bay Mall succeeded, if only for an afternoon, in giving us a small escape into a Jay's Sporting Goods-eque world, and it was very nostalgic.  Of course, none of us Houghs are avid fishermen, hunters, or outdoor enthusiasts. . .

. . .but that's besides the point.

- Brian