One High-Falutin' Son of a Gun

Reason #1 I am Just Like Jack Kelly

Strike! Strike! Strike!

Jack Kelly went on strike from selling newspapers. My strike is of the bowling variety.

This morning was my company's annual trip to the bowling alley. This time is generally all about talking to fellow staffers, eating, and, yes, bowling. The bowling, however, really is secondary to the talking and the eating.

My first game was pretty bad- I came in last on my lane with the abysmal score of 80. My next round was slightly better; at least I broke a hundred that time with a 103. Then on the first frame of the third and final game, I picked up a spare! Followed by another one, and another! Then I bowled a strike. Then a strike.

THEN A STRIKE.

That's about when people started noticing my game. Notable for being three spares and then three strikes in a row (which Kyle informed me is something called a "turkey."), but also for being a good game played by ME, Valerie, the non-bowler.

A crowd started to form. More and more people were high-fiving me. I bowled another spare, and it was pointed out to be that I had bowled seven frames and not left a pin behind. The crowd got bigger. On my next turn, I bowled an eight, and alas! The last two pins were perfectly split. I managed to knock one of them down. ALL OF THIS STILL A MIRACLE TO ME. Please understand that.

Jordan, a staffer a few years younger than me, jokingly took on the role of a sort of coach/manager to me, telling the crowd "Nobody talk to her! She's in the zone! NOBODY TALK TO HER!"

When it was time for my 10th and final frame, the crowd was even bigger, and another co-worker was literally standing right next to me filming the whole thing. Unfortunately I didn't entertain the crowd with another turkey or even another spare.

But in the end? I had bowled a 176. From an 80 to a 176. Now THAT is a Disney movie.

Reason#2 I am Just Like Jack Kelly

I'm the King of New York!

...Or Queen. Either way: NEW YORK CITY. I will be IN IT. ON FRIDAY.

(BRB- jumping up and down)

(Now twirling on the fan blades and landing on a table holding a newspaper.)

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