If you're still stuck at work and surfing the web to survive those last agonizing moments before beginning a three-day weekend, you should cast your mind forward to the holiday fun that awaits.
1) As I said in my competetive eating post, I do consider bowling a sport. At last, someone's made a documentary about these unsung athletes called The League of Ordinary Gentlemen. Christy Lemire's review begins:
It's hard to imagine Tiger Woods scraping ice off the roof of his mobile home after winning The Masters. Or Andy Roddick driving himself to the U.S. Open, then staying in some motel in Queens. Or Alex Rodriguez having to supplement his income with nightly karaoke gigs after Yankees games.
Did she say karaoke? I already knew bowlers rocked! This film reveals the personal trials and triumphs of the kings of the sport and highlights efforts to increase exposure and fan support. As a kid in Texas, I can tell you there were fewer cool and comfy places to hide from the midday's solar strafing than a frigidly airconditioned, unwindowed bowling alley. Bowling alleys combine undeniable climatological comfort with often cheap weekday rate packages, ubiquitous snack bars, and game rooms with arcade machines or at least pool. That's summer fun, ya'll. Roll a few this weekend for the veterans. Among other noble ideals, their sacrifices mean you can enjoy one of America's idiosyncratic leisure subcultures. Beer Frame!
2) For those of you heretics who'd rather celebrate the holiday baking yourselves while covered in goo and laying on grit- too much like breaded catfish fillets for my enjoyment- here's Dr. Beach's review of the top 10 sandy stretches based on 50 different criteria including facilities, management, scientific, and ecologic factors. Has there ever been a popular beach that didn't waft more latrine odor molecules than a NY Subway? The good doctor is actually a scientist in coastal research, but is it a coincidence (or a divine message in billboard-sized letters) that his real surname is Leatherman?
I'm betraying my bias here, but it's probably just my bitterness that my flounder-colored skin doesn't respond to solar radiation with anything but blisters and flakes. Ignore me. Until next week, enjoy the sun, you golden beauties!