"We don't have a cow, we have a bull."

The girlfriend and I did something very uncharacteristic for us this Sunday... we actually went out. Our one-year-old residency in northern most part North Carolina has turned us into slugs. Our typical Sundays sadly consist of the two of us lying in bed all day either watching television or playing video games. But we decided we would fight our depression-like urges and join my sister's family and our father for a day of cheap bowling at the Navy base bowling alley. We all had to ride together in my sister's new van since they were the only ones with the clearance to get on the base, but that just gave me and Theresa an excuse to make faces at my 11 month old niece and take pictures when she made funny faces in return...

Wow, that's one excited baby!

Seriously, how cute is she?
Anyway, considering our lack of social interaction as of late, we were actually pretty excited... and I really don't go out of my way to hang out with Dad as much as I'd like, which is extra sad since he really is one of my favorite people. We get to the base and thereby the bowling at about noon and stay there till roughly three-ish, bowling a total of four games throughout. We're a bit of a bowling family (arguably lame as that may be): I took informal bowling lessons when I was young, and both Dad and my sister are former league bowlers. And Dad is actually pretty good. As in, he has bowled a perfect 300 game before sorta good. So my only goal when bowling is to beat him in at least one game... It's looking pretty good at the end of game two, he's only a few points ahead and so I'm feeling pretty confident about game three... and then beer comes in. You see, bowling is a drinking sport. That's kind of what you do. If you're bowling and not drinking while you're doing so... well, you're not really bowling. Not all the way at least. Originally the plan was to have a beer or two while we were there, but when I went to go pick one up at the little food counter, I saw the magic word: Pitcher. Oh, the irresistible pull of the beer pitcher. It is as wonderful as it is reputedly low-class. How can I really justify paying $3.00+ for my little bottle of beer when I could pick up a whole pitcher of frosty Yuengling for Theresa, Dad, and I for a mere eight bucks?

Oh Yuengling, you're my best friend.

I didn't beat Dad that third game. I'd like to blame the beer, but I wasn't intoxicated at that point (yet). No no no, I just dropped the ball on that game. When it comes to sports/games/etc that I actually care about, I'm a notoriously competitive person. And while I don't usually lose my temper at other people, I get mad very quickly when I think I'm not doing something as well as I should be. So the first couple frames of the third game were harsh... Seven pins total in the first, and zero in the second. I can't remember the last time I've gotten two gutters in a row before then. I have excuses of course (I slipped once, and bent my thumb nail way back on the release on the second), but I still posted zero none the less. So anyway, I was pretty pissed at that point. Blood boiling, cussing up a storm, and all that. And that is where my friend beer really came in. Beer turns losing into a much more tolerable state. And since I was losing hard, I upped my drinking pretty well. I scored possibly an all time low that game - a 92. Theresa, who is blessed with incredible luck in all games but bowling, even beat me that game (albeit by one point).
But the bowling isn't really all that interesting, all that worth sharing. What is worth sharing, is my new culinary adventure. The modest food counter at the bowling alley had a pretty decent selection of dive-style food at ridiculous prices... and I just couldn't pass up the chance to try fried chicken livers for $3.75. I'd never had liver of any sort, and I am embracing the mentality of my culinary heroes as of late - that food, no matter how odd or unfamiliar (obviously excluding anything of any real danger), should be dove into bravely and treated rightfully like the adventure that it can be!

Damn these things are ugly, and they smelled just about as bad.

Chomp!

Okay, so honestly, they aren't that bad. And they definitely aren't at all what I expected. Texturally I expected something more 'organ-like,' chewy and gooey and all that. Not at all. Admittedly a little bit gritty, but most they were just like an exceptionally tender cut of meat (yes, the texture seemed more like super-tender beef than any chicken part). The flavor was a real shock though. Very flavorful, and definitely chicken-like, the only real off-putting part was the ridiculously strong saltiness of the livers. I mean it was salty like nothing should ever be. Flavor-wise, it was a lot like eating just the flavor packet from a package of chicken flavored ramen. So edible, and actually not bad, but sickeningly strong and saltier than any piece of meat should ever taste. The taste did linger for quite awhile though - had to end up ordering a Miller Chill to kill the taste...

Cheers!

So we bowled another game that I paid very little attention to and headed home. I know this will be far from the most interesting blog entry you'll ever read, but it was an uncharacteristically good day in my rather drab life and it seemed worth sharing with everyone. Not to get too touchy-feely on everyone, but I really think sometimes it's important to just take a moment out of life and share it with the people who matter most. Long as you have a good attitude and willingness to enjoy yourself, pretty much any activity can turn itself into a worthwhile day. It was nice to spend the day with the family - I really don't do that as often as I should. And again, I know this is a pretty boring entry, but hey, at least it's an excuse to post some cute baby pics!

Thanks for reading!