SPORTING!

Friday night Melissa and I played Twister, just the two of us spinning and contorting, in front of the door into Fuddrucker's, after I consumed a lot of beef and a 32-oz. Heineken. (Holy shit! Check out the gargantuan Twister mat!) During the frolic a fine gentleman in a suit appeared out of the sky and asked when the place closed. Upon our answering, "Eleven," he sauntered off toward the highway.

I could die today and feel like I lived successfully.

We also played frisbee and performed a short running race in the parking lot and, inside, we played air hockey, my other love. Good times.