Essays, Interviews, Observations, Pop Culture, Stories, and other Dodginess

Bowling Alleys Depress Me

Posted on November 12, 2012

Bowling Alleys Depress Me

There is something about a bowling alley where after I walk in, and once I leave…I don’t want to go back. I’m not a bowler, obviously. The sounds and smells. All my senses are assaulted in these establishments.

The Big Lebowski

The first time I recall being in a bowling alley was somewhere in Chicago’s south suburbs. I was in 8th grade and would meet my girlfriend there because she came with her mom, who bowled in a league. I found it creepy. The shoes, the shirts. The bar. Like a bar at a  strip club minus the strippers.

We would immediately leave the bowling alley – sometimes I would never walk in – she met me outside – and walk to a nearby park and make-out under the gym play thingy. You could be fairly hidden under there. Once some girl around our age wandered over. She knew I was in there and started talking to me while on swing. I couldn’t see her, she couldn’t see me. Finally, I guess it was because I didn’t come out, she asked if I was masterbating. Then she peeked in and saw my girlfriend.

Beverly Hills 90210

Random visits to the alleys occurred throughout high school and college. I probably bowled my first game my sophomore year. My friend Pug and I would go with a few gal friends. Pug used to enjoy, and still talks about, this one girl, I’ll call her “Latina,” who would shake her ass every time she went up to roll. Once my friend Heath had his shoes lost when he went to pick them up at night’s end.

After college and not long ago I went to Waveland Bowl on Western Avenue, near Lane Tech High School. I was working at an alternative school and a few of us kicked off a Thanksgiving Eve night with bowling, for some reason. One was a teacher I was sorta seeing. Her name was Kelly and she was self-conscious about having a big head. We drank a few pitchers of Miller-something, ended up in a fight and broke up.

I always had the same black ball with holes that I couldn’t seem to get my small fingers in.

I know there are some hipster bowling events. I’ve never been and don’t want to. Something bad will happen if I go. I always feel like Frido in a bowling alley. My most recent visit, which inspired this post, happened a few weeks ago when I was supposed to meet some people at an alley for a surprise party. Nobody was there when I arrived. The bar (again, strippy looking) was empty. A guy and gal were playing that bags game in there. Why am I not surprised? Why shouldn’t a game called Cornhole exist in a bowling alley? A few families were bowling and I was just sitting there alone, with a little gift bag and kids all around. I didn’t want to appear as a molester (despite my handsomeness) so I left. And didn’t go back.

Goodbye Billie

Posted on November 5, 2012

It was a night of television death.

The big topic of discussion Sunday night was the deaths of two major characters on Walking Dead. In a time when almost nothing on the telly can come our way spoiler-free I was shocked, like many, when T-Dog was eaten by zombies prior to Lori Grimes’ death by C-section. Well done, WD. To borrow a quote I once read about the show Millennium, this Walking Dead takes ass, swishes it around in its mouth and blows it in the face of the viewer. There were some tears. Hell, even the actor who played T-Dog was crying on the wrap-up show Talking Dead.

I think those deaths overshadowed another television one that night. That of Billie Kent on Boardwalk Empire.
Meg Chambers Steedle as Billie Kent on Boardwalk Empire

Billie (Meg Chambers Steedle) appeared to “get all blown up” at the episode’s end. What’s interesting, to me anyhow, is how much more enamored I became of this character, an actress/mistress of Nucky, in just this episode. I’ve always liked her, what little she was in this season. I mean, Christ, what a killer smile. Chipmunk cheeks. Cute as hell.

I’d violate the Volstead Act with her anytime.

I found out today that Meg attended Northwestern here in Chicago. And according to her Twitter feed, she’s going to be appearing Don’t Trust the B in Apt. 23. I’ll kind of miss seeing her in those 1920s costumes. But I’m sure I’ll get used to it.

Meg Chambers Steedle

Death and mourning continued Sunday night on my beloved Treme, where the ashes of Steve Earle’s character Harley, murdered last season, were laid to rest in the Mississippi River during the show’s Mardi Gras episode.

Coming soon: In a few weeks a new interview will be posted. Look for a chat with a great writer and New York Times bestselling author.

Cheers

Fictional Hoosier of the Month

Posted on October 30, 2012

Back by unpopular demand. We started this awhile ago when the site was nwidodgy. It didn’t last. And it’s just not as fun to have a “Fictional Chicagoan of the Month.” A year ago the first FHOTM was April Ludgate (Aubrey Plaza). She was followed by Catherine Stark (Allison McAtee). So to celebrate the year anniversary of those, the bit is back.

So say hello to the latest Fictional Hoosier of the Month.

June Colburn.

Dreama Walker as June Colburn on Don't Trust the B in Apt. 23

Don’t Trust the Bitch in Apartment 23. Not this one. The other one.

June lived in Indiana prior to moving to New York City for a Wall Street job that disappeared in the economic downturn. Then she lost her fiance. She currently works in a coffee shop and is a roommate with a bitch in apartment 23. June used to be on Facebook but canceled it after too many people were tagging her in unflattering above-the-chin photos, or something to that effect. June has also been spied upon by her neighbor, who likes to jerk off a lot. She’s also friends now with James Van Der Beek. So there’s that.

June (Dreama Walker) is a cutie. Not quite the sexpot that is her roommate, Chloe, (Krysten Ritter), but sexy in her own way. Some girls are annoying in a good way. That’s June. It’s good to watch June, because when you do, Chloe is sure to be nearby.

By the way, I do trust the Bitch in Apartment 23

Dreama also stars in that recent creepy movie Compliance about the fast food workers scammed by some asshole on the phone. She plays the victim. Now if someone could call Chloe, or Krysten or whatever, and convince her to do things to me – well I might be OK by that.

So there you have it. Another FHOTM. Will we do it again? Maybe. Maybe we will start up that Chicago one. The possibilities are feckin’ endless.