So there I was, sitting in the bowling alley waiting to get my strike on, when this dame comes walking in with a dude on her hip. They sat down at the bar, obviously too cool for school to be hurling twelve pound spherical marbles at a collection of phallic-shaped pins. I grab my ball by the balls as I prepare to throw and establish my reign as the bowling king and, ultimately, God. I am Unaware of what Fonzie and the dame were up to, and god knows it could be anything; I toss and hit my strike. Then I look over to my left, and low and behold, their putting on some bowling shoes. It was clear that the Fonz was not enjoying this recreational activity any more than he would enjoy fucking a cactus. This struck me as funny for two reasons. The first reason, and the least important, is that he was no cooler with his girl than I was with my nachos. We were on the same level tonight. The second reason why this is funny and why this situation ultimately explains the way of the universe is that all she wanted to do was play with some balls, just not his. And you know what? Bitch got what she wanted.
Simply because you can breathe doesn’t mean you’re alive, or that you really live