The hubster has style.

Kelly has humor!

Matt has speeeed.

I am not a bowler.  I bowl.  I share shoes and forge community.  We are strangers with a penchant for alternate identities.  K-Gimmy and Bob Hughes on the line-up tonight, who are you?  We are serious for the thirty seconds before the line, rituals combined with less thoughtful spasms of movement before hurling balls: at record speed, worryingly slow, and straight for the gutter.   We erupt in joy, dissolve in laughter, or silently pump a fist in triumph, repeat nine more times, ten if you’re really good.  Maybe drink a beer or eat nachos or both.  Smile.

The Portland Timbers Corn Maize.  Yup, we’re going in!

This makes total sense now.  Turn left!

I’m all lost in the corn-maize.  I can no longer walk happily.  I came here for the special offer, a Groupon discount, that’s me!  My apologies to the members of The Clash for trashing a fine song.  I could not help myself.  I really was lost and have a brain programmed for reciting song lyrics.

Random funny:

Lying in bed with the hubster, I heard a sound, while at the same time saw this drop onto the lamp next to the bed.  The look of horror in my eyes made the hubster jump out of bed.  The fact that it moved so quickly, and I could not see where it was going made me jump up on the bed and scream!  I am not normally a jumper or screamer, but fifteen pairs of very long legs moving at high velocity changed my mind in a hurry.  Besides, maybe loud noises will kill it.  Hey, let’s shove the bed to the center of the room, sweep, and vacuum while we’re at it! You know, because it is better safe than sorry, even if it is totally harmless to humans.  Just sayin’.

Random inside jokes for the hubster:

“It’s getting worse!”

“You look tired.  I think you need a dough-nut nap.”