Yum, Want More.

On bowling night I like to wear my loosest, largest shirt. It gives me the freedom I need to bowl those crappy games I've been bowling lately. How crappy do I bowl? Well, we just finished the season in ninth place out of ten. Tenth place was a team of nothing. In other words we only had nine teams, and we filled out the roster with what is called a blind team. Worst part about that, we lost two games to the blind team last night. Anyway, one thing I noticed is that my favorite large bowling shirt was riding up my belly all evening. Every time I would finish throwing my ball down the lane, I would have to pull my shirt back down and pull my under pants out of my butt crack. I suppose that the fact I need a triple xxx large shirt now means that I am officially obese.

Last evening, just before I left for bowling, a friend of Mark’s from New York stopped by. Anthony is a sweetheart who stays with us when he is in town every so often. As a visitor he is almost invisible, the way I like it. Anthony, I have figured out, doesn’t want to return the favor, and I understand. He lives in Manhattan, and has a small apartment not equipped for overnight visitors. So to thank us for putting him up, Anthony brings us cookies from his Queens bakery/restaurant that he owns with his husband George. Last night he brought us macarons, and chocolate chip cookies. They were delicious. Notice I used the past tense because I am a pig. I swallowed those cookies like a python swallowing an antelope. I’m not even sure I chewed them. So I hereby thank Anthony for bringing the cookies, and I curse him at the same time for adding to my fat ass. However, if you don’t care about such things as calories and fat, and you are ever in New York, Queens, stop by The Astor Bake Shop for some really great cookies. I think Anthony is Satan.