(incidentally, last weekend, we contested the zod cup -- recreational bowling's most coveted spray-paint-covered trophy, in reasonably epic fashion, and saw reel big fish and streetlight manifesto at a club of the very same name. awesome show, and a good reminder that people in minneapolis still occasionally deign to dance while a rock band's playing, but that is not what we're here to talk about.)
after a combination of the weather being ass-cold and jenni feeling ill had kept us cooped up in the house for far too many days running, we decided wednesday night was alright for fighting. in the absence of a boxing ring and/or an easily accessible octagon, however, it wound up also being alright for the pub quiz at merlins rest, my favorite british/nerd bar. jenni and i made our way over there, freezing the entire journey; we were joined by dan a few questions in, and proceeded to pretty much whup up on trivia like the lakers beat the supersonics.
a trivia win, and the accompanying free drink, later, we opted for darts, because when you can't quite feel your hands and you've got a buzz, the correct thing to do is throw pointy objects. and, while i'm not sure whether it was the copious cider or our sparkling wit and preponderance of at-the-ready milf jokes, about halfway through the game we found ourselves unable to stop cracking up over cougar darts.
particularly when dan began impersonating the cougar. (the darts one, not, like, felicity huffman or whatever.)
regardless, it was a successful night of drinking and remembering things and laughing until our sides hurt, and, as a result, jenni's cold got worse to the point where she had to call in sick yesterday. fortunately, after a reasonably humdrum workday (for me) and sick day (for her), things picked up in a manner that i can only describe -- which you'll guess, if you've been reading -- as epic. to wit: we arrived at our usual thursday night bowling alley early, both to get some pre-bowling drinks and to make sure missy didn't have to sit by herself at a bowling alley bar, because, really, that's a sadder prospect than an unemployed mall santa on the curb with a bottle of night train.
we did so, then proceeded to total victory in two of three bowling games -- including one on which a pitcher of beer was riding. (our opposition team, being a bunch of bros from wisconsin, graciously bought us miller lite, so it was something of a pyrrhic victory.) between the glorious and heady sensation of victory, the somewhat-less-glorious and no-less-heady sensation of drinking about sixteen gallons of beer, and the amount of bemused discussion over the possibility of 'zen rage' and its impact on jenni's bowling (as part of a long-held metaphor about angry koi, which i could spend three semesters of a college course trying and failing to explain), it was excellent indeed.
and then we got home. and my beloved golden gophers, basketball edition, were playing -- and losing -- to the hated badgers, on said hated team's hated home court. i was excited to watch the game's end, until our 12-point deficit and the never-call-anything-against-the-home-tea
that lasted about five minutes, until twitter kindly informed us that the gophers were a mere point down, so we came reluctantly but hopefully back. as did our team. they scored. and yelled. as did i, to the point where it was indistinguishable from me watching a hockey game -- a rare and thrilling and, yes, epic feat for any basketball team to achieve.
even more rare and epic? we fucking won.
and thus, a midweek stretch full of win reached its logical, inevitable and awesome conclusion, and i come to you now happy, slightly exhausted, and ready for the weekend. vaya con dios, hombres.