Wishbone

It's a day to be funny.
It's not easy, you know. Doing comedy on a Sunday.
No one is in the mood to laugh on a Sunday.
The weather is always garbage.
Your TV betrays you with movies like Marked for Death and Blue Streak.
You can't go to any stores because God says buying 2 DVDs for twenty bucks on His day is a sin.
Pushy God.
No one wants to do anything because it's too Sunday. You have work, or school, or alcoholism to return to in the morning. No one's in the mood on Sunday.
I'm hardly in the mood. I've been downing percacet all day.
I used to make drug jokes. In Banff.
If I was meeting someone new? Give it a few minutes and then make an off-hand comment about taking some sort of intense drug the day before.
The more unstable the drug, the better.
Crystal Meth has been a favourite of mine for a while. But I've been leaning towards mescaline lately (because I still make the joke occaisonally now). It works in Banff. Because the person doesn't know you. And people are on drugs constantly.
Maybe you were watching the locals play hockey yesterday afternoon after downing some PCP. How are they to know?
Exactly. They probably don't want to talk to you anymore.
Just as well. One less 'So and So's last night in Banff party!' that you are forced to go to.
If debasement were a town. Seriously.

In other goo, I went bowling yesterday for the first time in centuries.
Peter and his new girlfriend.
I kept looking at her bum while she bowled.
I swear on coffee, it's a reflex.
It was a timed session. Your score screen changes colour when time is running down.
The screen's another colour.
I bowl two strikes in a row. At this place, if you get three strikes in a row, it's referred to as a 'turkey.'
I don't know why.
Probably because they flash a large turkey on the score screen when you pull it off.
I'm on the third frame. The potential turkey frame.
The score screen shuts off. It's time to go home.
And just when I was about to do something worthwhile with my life.
My mom won't answer my phone calls.