The Blog That Marty Lynch Writes

THIS AND THAT

2010-11-22T09:51:00.009-05:00

THE END OF THE LADY BUG LIST

Well, I have decided that the Lady Bug List, along with the weekly King and Queen of the league award will now officially go into retirement. Unbeknownst to me, I just recently became aware that some people viewed these monikers as derogatory. Obviously, it was never my intention to mock, defame, or humiliate anyone, nor has anyone suggested that my goals were anything other than a positive attempt to be inclusive of all league members. Nonetheless, the decision stands.

However, to ease the pain of this sudden loss I have decided that we will now have the weekly Hairiest Balls Award presented to the lady whose performance most closely resembles that of an unkempt jihadist Afghani female. Our first recipient of the Hairiest Balls Award is none other than the lovely Mrs. Lynch. Suzanne, as she prefers to be called, had a lady high score of 155 and sports a league best 143 average. I’m proud of you honey!

The Lovely Mrs. Lynch with her game face on.

As a consolation, I would also like to recognize Sue Wise with the Fuzzy Nut Award for her 400 series. With her consistent performance, my guess is that’s Sue Wise will be in the running every week.

Sue Wise on her recent Hawaiian vacation.

THE IANIRO'S UN-JOIN MY BOWLING LEAGUE

On July 24th I graciously invited David Ianiro and his wife Traci to join My Bowling League, and they both quickly accepted. I was partnering them up with Bondra’s team figuring that would eliminate the Pin Heads tendency to no-show. Two weeks later Terry Wise tells me he ran into Ianiro and David asked him to let me know he changed his mind. He told Wise he’s really not that good a bowler so he doesn’t want to join after all. He’s not so good so he shouldn’t play? He’s not so good, like that matters.

Could there be a bigger dick head than this guy? Probably not; here’s this lousy spaghetti vendor who has been in charge of Highland Heights youth baseball for 20 years, and I’m wondering what he’s been saying to our kids for all these years. “Yo little Johnny, I know you love baseball, but let’s face it, you suck, you’re bringing the team down, you got no business being out here with all your friends, now run along, I shouldn’t have to waste my time teaching the fundamentals to a useless chump like you.”

Ianiro, gingerly telling a 6 year old he don’t belongs on da field.

When I confront him on this he comes up with a completely different excuse. Apparently he has this tremendous opportunity to open up another catering business in downtown Cleveland, and he’ll be too damn busy making money to bowl.

Ianiro, at his busy downtown catering business.

A Little This....etc

2010-07-28T22:30:00.004-04:00

A CELEBRITY LOOK-A-LIKE WEDDING?

My Bowling League members Andrew Ryzner and Yolonda Naymick will be tying the knot this Saturday, July 31, 2010; so I figured it was only fitting to give them a little marital advice before the big day. And this is about as useful advice as I’ve ever given anybody. Don’t do it. Current statistics say that there is a 50-50 chance that this thing blows up in your face, and that one or both of you will be out on the street. If you’re playing Russian Roulette you have a 1 in 6 chance of blowing you brains out, in marriage you have a 1 in 2 chance of wanting to blow your spouse’s brains out; does that really seem worth it.

By the way, getting married takes a matter of minutes, getting divorced can takes years. In fact, I have some friends, friends I’ll refer to as Marc and Lydia Hertz. These two have been getting divorced for what seems like a decade, but to them, it probably feels even longer than that.

You know what, I take it all back, you guys will be fine, but I do feel sorry for the unlucky couples who are getting married right before, and right after you two.

Check out this coincidence; and its no joke. Andrew “Pee Wee” Ryzner has ordered a grey tux, white shirt, and red bow tie for his wedding. I can’t wait to see those pictures.

Mike Hirsh and the Reverend Jeremiah Wright. I just figured I throw this Celebrity Look -a- Like in for no apparent reason.

WHAT’S THE HOLE FOR?

I’m not sure how it came up, but I have recently learned that half of the guys don’t use the hole in the front of their underpants when they take a pee. I’m not sure what they think the hole is for, but they are by passing it, and apparently just pulling the front of their pants down or sillier yet, pulling it out by the side of their leg.

I also learned that the vast majority of guys who get up in the middle of the night to pee, stand up versus sit down; which just makes no sense to me. Here you are at 3 in the morning dead-dog tired, perhaps drunk and you choose to stand and weave instead of sitting down to relax. That’s like getting on an empty bus and deciding to stand and grab a hand rail for support instead of plopping your fat ass down. I’ll look into this further and get back with you.

MORE CROHNYISM

Now that you know I have Crohn’s Disease perhaps I should share another tale of the silent suffering I endure from day to day. A couple of weeks before leaving on the Booze Cruise last year, I had what I’ll refer to as a flare-up. My doctor brought me in for a colonoscopy and determined that the best way to solve my problem was to prescribe me a medicinal enema. Naturally, I asked him what the second, or even third best prescription would be. He wasn’t buying it; he said I’m getting the enema.

What I then learned was frightening; Dr. Doom wasn’t prescribing an enema, he was prescribing a series of 28 daily enemas, complete with 4 more months of refills. In short, this guy wanted me to shove a bottle up my ass every night for the entire Major League Baseball season. I knew then and there that this wasn’t happening. What I didn’t know was how long it would take the lovely Mrs. Lynch to insist that it would happen. I swore I wasn’t sticking anything in my can, to which my wife swore if I didn’t, she, most begrudgingly would…..and, my fellow bowlers, that’s just what she did.

I think Sue, errrrrrrr, Suzanne took more than the necessary precautions.

My wife is no Florence Nightingale and dosage number one would be the first time for both of us. Now let me assure all of you that this initial, and may I point out, clumsy and tearful encounter was neither comfortable, nor romantic; but thankfully, we both survived. Our second such rendezvous produced more tears and more groans, from my wife that is. Ole Martin V on the other hand was a whimpering mess. On day three, the lovely Mrs. Lynch was again required to follow the same simple instructions as she did on day one and two; shake, remove cap, insert, and squeeze. Pretty damn simple right?

I’m not sure which of these four steps is the least important to follow, but unfortunately, I have learned that the most important of these four steps is, without any shadow of doubt, removing the cap. For those of you who think, aw, what’s the difference it’s just a little cap, please let me explain. If you’re in jail would you prefer that your cellmate has the name Jung Sup “Little Dick” Lee (cap off) or a dude who is lovingly referred to as Jamal “Big Dick” Jackson (cap on)?

So what’s the upshot to all this? The upshot is that I learned that the cure for a major Crohn’s flare up isn’t 162 daily emama’s, no contraire, the cure is 3.

Because of this experience, Ole Martin V. now pays close attention when he hears the phrase, “I’m gonna put a cap in your ass.”

I've Missed You,

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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A Little FIFA for my Fiefdom

2010-06-26T11:33:00.011-04:00

I have tried time and again to understand the popularity of this stupid FIFA soccer shit, but I simply don’t get it. Worse yet, I don’t even have a clue as to where to start, nor do I have the patience to structure an argument to explain why you soccer fans are idiots.

So we have a guy whose name sounds like he was a member of The Beach Boys, Landon Donovan. He is now a hero because he was able to kick a ball into a goal that measures 24’ wide by 8’ tall. He was able to make this unobstructed goal from 9’ away while the opposing goalie lay lifeless on the ground. As the balled rolled gently toward him, he must have had flashbacks to the time his mommy would roll the ball to him when he was five years old and all he had to do was kick it into the front their a 4 car garage.

Landon Donovan also enjoys singing show tunes and playing teeter-totter.

I want to give the guy credit where due, but it’s not because he was able to hit the side of a barn, it’s because he was able to run up and down the field for 90 plus minutes without puking all over himself; something I would be unable to do. I guess the troubling thing is how can players on both teams spend the entire day missing those simple shots. How big a loser do you have to be to miss layup after layup, before you realize you suck?

I’m pretty sure any numbnut can do this

Why don’t they just show marathon runners how to kick a ball

In football, a kicker has to sail a ball 150 feet, (or should I be speaking in meters for you jerk offs) in the wind, while 11 angry dudes, who know exactly when and where he’s going to kick it, try and block him from putting the weirdest shaped ball in the world, through an 18’ wide goal post………………while, I should point out, there is still time on the game clock.

Now this is worth watching

This brings us back to this 90 plus minutes thing. Why is this game not in overtime or something? What legitimate sport says ahh, just keep playing for a little bit. Have these people never heard of buzzer beater, walk off homer, scored as time expired? No, they keep playing for, well, a little while after the game is supposed to be over. What is that? That would be like playing Pictionary with no timer; go ahead and leisurely draw a picture of a caboose, or a dragon, no hurry, take your time; it’s not even an All Play, its freakin’ ridiculous.

I know there are guys in My Bowling League who are involved with soccer programs. Mike Hirsch and John Bondra are good examples of what a modern day soccer sissy looks like. Two guys with little to no athletic ability whatsoever, trying to pass themselves off as jocks.

Mike Hirsch and John Bondra, just a couple of jocks.

When you call them on it, they immediately start talking about how dangerous it is to play soccer, and that more injuries occur in that sport versus any other. The reason for that is simple; if I throw a pig off a roof, it’s going to get hurt because it can’t fly. A kid is going to get hurt in soccer because he’s not an athlete. Pigs don’t get hurt when they do what they are meant to do, play in the mud. Likewise, soccer players don’t get hurt when they do what they are meant to do, play with dolls.

Just a couple of future soccer players

Just a couple future football players

I’m not even going to get into the fact that the average game ends 1-0. I simply can’t take any more of this asinine World Cup soccer bullshit. Wake up people; you don’t live in a third world country for gods sakes. Men play football, sissy’s play soccer, end of story.

Lovingly Yours,

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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The Vacation is Over

2010-06-18T07:52:00.009-04:00

Well I was determined to get my pasty white ass out onto the Florida beaches yesterday. And, it only took the followings conditions to make that a reality: purchase a $139 – 10’x10’ Mighty Blocker sun tent; purchase a $49 Outdoorsman (cloth) camp chair with awning; purchase a $12 bottle of Coppertone #30 coconut scented facial sun screen; purchase a $9 can of Publix brand #50 spray-on sun blocker; purchase a $198 pair of Ray Ban sunglasses; purchase two $14 battery operated, chair mountable clip on fans; purchase an $18 case of Bud Light; purchase a $36 Coleman cooler with wheels; purchase a $4 bag of ice; purchase a $19 - 32 ounce jug of Aloe in case any or all of the above fail. But I really do have to admit what got me out the door was the free weather report calling for clouds, rain, and wind. Now that’s my kind of weather!

As you can see, the Ray Ban’s and beer worked; everything else failed, including that shitty weather reporter.

As many of you know, this is the one-year anniversary of the now famous Chip Tighe “circle pee” adventure. (If you missed it, see blog dated June 19, 2009) I told the lovely Mrs. Lynch that I was planning to do an anniversary blog for Chip, and she kind of started freaking out on me.

This is the part where Chip says he wasn’t scared.

She said “leave him alone, how would you like it if I told everyone about some of the idiotic shit you do?” I was like, what have I ever done that was idiotic? Sue, who prefers to be called Suzanne, reminded me that while Tighe was fishing last year, I was at home having issues of my own. Since the person who professed to love, honor, and cherish me, has now vowed to go public with the “Marble Organ Story,” I figure I should do what any spineless politician would do; go public and get ahead of the story……..So here goes.

Maybe this is a bad example.

First, I should let everyone know that I have Crohn ‘s Disease; which I should point out, is a sometimes-debilitating gastrointestinal condition that (unbeknownst to many of you) has required me to take a dump at your house. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be to say that having Crohn’s is like having Tourette’s Syndrome, only all the crazy uncontrollable shit comes out of your ass, not out of your mouth.

Anyhow, while Chip was fishing in Canada, I had a Crohn’s flare up that sent me racing to my bathroom. After I flushed and was leaving, I noticed what I could only describe as 9 big black marbles, floating in the toilet. At this time I am certain that I just crapped life sustaining internal organs out of my body. Not that Chip Tighe is a real doctor, but I realized that in a pinch, our little podiatrist would have to do. I want him to come over and look at these marbles and tell me what the hell I just did to myself, perhaps give me some idea of how much longer I had to live before the rest of my organs began shutting down.

They may look friendly, but I learned never to judge a book by its cover.

Obviously Tighe is gone, and as it turns out, my wife was out of town as well. So it will be up to me to either solve this or protect the specimens until I can get a reasonable medical opinion from someone. I decide that while I wait for Chip to get home, I will remove my marble like internal organs from the toilet with a spoon and set them on a towel on the bathroom vanity.

For the record, I did put this through the dishwasher twice before putting it back in sugar bin.

Once on the towel, I felt compelled to analyze them. They are all very firm, probably filled with blood, or pancreatic tissue, they definitely had a pulse, and they had to be something necessary for human survival. I squeeze them, I roll them, I measure them, and I document my findings and head to the internet. I didn’t find any answers on line, I only had more questions; would the doctors be able to reattach them, should I put them in the freezer like some kind of cryogenics experiment, should I drive myself to the emergency room, should I call 911 and have the paramedics transport me and my 9 heartbeats to the hospital.

I am usually pretty good at laboratory research and locating things on the internet, but this one had me stumped.

I must have had an anxiety attack and passed out, because the next thing I remember was me waking up on the kitchen floor with the refrigerator door open and my 9 marbles on the butter dish next to a gallon of milk. I start to freak a little and grab the marbles and run back to the bathroom. I can’t take the anguish anymore, so I throw them in the toilet and flush. They wouldn’t go down; clearly this was a sign from god, so I spoon them back out and back onto the towel. All I can do now is wait for Tighe to return.

The minutes seemed like hours, the hours seemed like days. I would check on them continually over the next 36 hours, until I fell asleep from exhaustion. When I awoke and ran to inspect the marbles, something was clearly wrong. No longer did they look strong, lively, and powerful. Now they appeared weak, listless, and frail. But as I stared at them, and the blood-purple stained towel, they also appeared to look like something else. Their wrinkled little lifeless bodies struck a remarkable similarity to a raisin. A raisin, not unlike the raisins found in the Raisin Bran cereal I had eaten not two days ago.

Well, at least I saved the co-pay, and deductible.

Yes it was traumatic, but I realized that I would live another day, Ole Martin V. may just live-forever, and yes, my power of prayer is enormous.

I don’t want to come across as being special, but, I is what I is.

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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Sh*t My Mom Says

2010-06-15T18:23:00.009-04:00

I’m guessing that many of you have heard about or have visited the website called www.shitmydadsays.com. If not, you should because it’s funny; but please keep in mind that it is laced with a good bit of profanity. Anyhow, I just spent five, count ‘em, five days vacationing with my mother, and I’ve got to tell you, she says some goofy shit. It’s not the same kind of stuff like the "shit my dad says;" it’s literally dingy shit, like she only wants to use about 50% of her brain.

My mom might not like me telling you her age, so instead of me spilling those beans, I’ll just say she remembers the Roaring 20’s. Anyhow, my mom has shown the ability to be sharp as a tack, so I don’t know if it’s just her, or if everybody’s mom gets a little tired of worrying about details every now and again.

Regardless, I’m at my niece’s graduation party in Atlanta last Saturday, and my mom sees some kid and says, “doesn’t that fella look just like Arthur Kirschner?” Everyone in the room just stared at her like, who the hell is Arthur Kirschner. Then she said, “you know, that guy who married that Dembi girl who used to be married to the bald headed Die Heart movie guy Bruce whatever.”

Once the doctor told her she had the internal organs of a 25 year old, my mom figured it was safe to take up smoking again.

Later, the conversation somehow turned to the Cleveland Zoo and how awful it is to go there on Mondays, a.k.a. free admission day. We were discussing how someone should take pictures of these people and post them on the web under “People of the Cleveland-Zoo.” It would be similar to “People of Wal-Mart,” except the Wal-Mart folks would look like high-society compare to our Monday morning zoo crew.

I’m not saying that Carla Bondra shops at Wal-Mart, but apparently someone who looks, acts, and dresses just like her does.

Former My Bowling League members Abigail and Jim Sirselle decided to renew their vows this past “Monday,” right outside the llama corral.

Anyhow, my mom says that when she was a kid she used to love going to the zoo to watch the “tangerines roll around.” What?............ My brother Terry told her that tangerines are in orchards, not in zoos. She was pissed at the boy, and said to him “what are you an idiot? You know what I mean, you god damn smartass, those monkeys, those baboons, those whatchacallems.” My sister Beth said, “Mom, do you mean orangutans?” to which I quickly interjected, “of course that’s what she meant, Terry, you’re an idiot.”

Is it possible that this tangerine is eating an orangutan?

Shortly after this, my mother told a story about a very suspicious character that she once knew. She said he was suspicious because he wouldn’t walk under a ladder, he carried a rabbit’s foot, and he wouldn’t leave the house on Friday the 13^th. Yep, he sure sounds like a pretty damn suspicious character to me.

This next bit doesn’t actually fall under shit my mom says, but I don’t have a category called shit my mom does. Anyhow, mommy dearest is working on a jigsaw puzzle with her magnifying glass, and I ask her how the puzzle is coming along. She couldn’t hear me and asked if I could repeat the question. She still couldn’t hear me so she asked me to hold on a second while she grabbed the magnifying glass, which she put up to her ear and said “okay, what were you asking me?” Now this may sound a little silly, but it does appear that she can in fact hear better when she puts the magnifying glass next to her ear.

Now that she has her audio magnifying glass, my mom won’t be needing that cumbersome ear horn any more.

Trust me, I’ve got plenty more mom stuff like this, and I may have to make a shit my mom says a weekly entry, well, until she finds out about it, that is. Then I’ll just tell her it was that idiot son of hers, Terry who writes all this stuff. Hell, I’ll just tell her I’m Terry, I’ve got to believe that there’s at least a 50-50 chance she’ll believe me.

Still waiting for your RSVP's,

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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News - Non-Members Only - Mostly

2010-06-03T01:20:00.004-04:00

Pilla's Facebook Dilemma

Jamie Pilla got hooked up on Facebook but hasn’t decided what profile picture to use. So I figured I would take the liberty of offering a couple of options from my James Pilla photo library.

I think any of these Jamie Pilla Photos would work well as his profile picture.

Salcer's is Salcer's, same old, same old

Tim Salcer had his 5th annual Memorial Day Party at his Highland Heights home this past weekend. Some people wanted to know how come I don’t take over that event and make it a Martin V Invitational. Frankly, that’s a very good question; I think my main hang up to doing that would be I’d have to unload virtually all of the current invitees, to include Tim Salcer himself.

Apparently Tim thought the best way to memorialize the dead was to invite as many dead or near dead personalities as he could find. Well let me tell you, he found a bunch of them. The party started at 5, and by 6 half the guests were asleep and drooling on his plastic table cloths. The other half were screaming infants and toddlers whose parents didn’t know the first about dipping the pacifier in whiskey to quite them down.

When nap time was over for the blue hairs, someone made them form a line so they all could wait their turn for a wig rattling ride in the Silver Bullet Rocket Car. Once they finished their spin around the block, they all shuffled onto the sleek new Tri-City Consortium of Aging shuttle bus and made their way back to whatever assisted living center they came from.

Tim wisely took this group picture right before nap time. I'm not sure which of these folks is me.

One of our bowlers, Cindy Lembach was at the party and made it a point to tell me a couple of her observations. First, she thinks Tim is kind of a dweeb because she wanted to wake the crowd up by putting some Motown on the CD player. Unfortunately Tim thought doing a “letter B medley” Bing Crosby, Burl Ives, and Benny Goodman was a way better idea. Then, when she suggested that she could pull the corn hole out of her trunk, he scoffed and told her that would be too dangerous. The worst part of that exchange is that the guy didn’t even seize the opportunity to make some lewd comment about her trunk and corn holing.

The last straw for me came when I discreetly told him that someone had clogged his basement bathroom, and he immediately assumed that since I had three hamburgers and four hot dogs, along with 2 plates of creamed jalapeño corn and a bowl of pork n beans, not to mention the 12 beers, that I was the culprit. When I challenged him on his “profiling” of my eating habits he immediately backed downed and said the real reason he accused me of clogging his toilet was because 16 other people have said that I’ve clogged their toilets when I went to their house for a party. Clearly his evidentiary argument is circumstantial at best; I still contend that either way, it’s profiling and we all know that’s wrong.

PJ Buynack was kind enough to have an outdoor restroom installed just for me.

Rain or Shine

Chip and Sherry Tighe had a Memorial Day party at their Ashtabula house and many of you were invited but didn't show up because of inclement weather. Just so you dickheads know, that's where the term fair-weather friend comes from. I wouldn't have minded being called a fair-weather friend but the lovely Mrs. Lynch reminded me that if I didn't show up, I would also fall into the category of douche bag neighbor; so we went.

Mike Richuisa and his wife Linda also braved the elements and made a soggy appearance. During the course of my ever friendly conversation, I asked Linda Richuisa how come she hadn’t joined My Bowling League like her husband had. She stuttered a bit, then told me it was because she didn’t want me putting any hideous pictures of her on the blog. So this is my way of gently inviting Linda to become a member.

Maybe I should introduce Linda Richuisa to Mike Reimer; I bet they would hit it off.

He got some Splainin to do

A little cruise news, Bill Homan has been on all of our booze cruises, and if he were in My Bowling League he would definitely be in a celebrity look-a-like blog. Regardless, for three years in a row this dude has easily won the Carnival Cruise award for being able to out drink not just everyone in our group, but everyone on the ship.

William Frawley (left) who starred as Fred Mertz in “I Love Lucy,” and our very own Booze Cruiser, Bill Homan (right) are dead ringers!

I will be releasing the 2011 Booze Cruise information on this blog by the end of next week. Those of you in the 46 states and 40 different countries who have visited this site in the last year, will be welcome to join us; unless of course, your name is Keith Olbermann.

I’ll be back sooner rather than later,

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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News – About Members Only - Mostly

2010-05-26T23:18:00.002-04:00

It’s easy to keep up with everybody during the bowling season, but since that’s been over for a couple of months, I figured that it would be a good idea if I give you a little bit of the news that has crossed my desk recently.

Maybe it’s me but I think Greg Cira looked way better before he went to the Bosley Hair Restoration Clinic.

This is kind of a quasi member spotlight. For those of you who don’t know, Terry and Sue Wise will be celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary, but that’s not really a big deal. The fact that they began dating when they were 12 is odd, sort of cute really, but not unheard of. The interesting thing, as I have recently come to learn, is that Sue’s maiden name was also Wise. Now that’s uncommon, but it’s not nearly as uncommon as the fact that these to love birds are actually first cousins; their fathers are half brothers.

How could this be? That’s against the law isn’t it? Well, as I did my research, I learned that there is nothing illegal about marrying your relative. People have been making fun of those inbreeding West Virginians for years, saying that it screws up the gene pool and dumbs down the family lineage. Well I think that Sue and Terry’s children prove that there is no truth to that urban myth.

The Wise kids, Rue and Jerry were happy to accompany one other to the Mayfield Prom; a serious romance could be budding.

If Nick Longo, errrrrr, Dick Dongo thinks dying his hair and pretending to be really happy will make him unrecognizable, he better think again.

We almost had a real Hollywood Star come right out of My Bowling League, but it just wasn’t meant to be.

Mike Reimer was gonna play the lead in the big screen movie about the life of actor John Goodman. He lost the role when the producers realized that Mike still had to lose 50 pounds.

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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A Week in Review

2010-05-21T10:02:00.007-04:00

ROCK N ROLL

My wife had VIP tickets to The Rock n Roll Hall of Fame Fundraiser this past Saturday night. Knowing that I didn’t have any rock and roll clothes to wear, I convinced PJ Buynack to take Sue to the event. His one job was to make sure that Sue didn’t do anything to embarrass me; and it’s now clear, he didn’t do a good job of that. In fact, I’m pretty sure that the lovely Mrs. Lynch is well on her way to becoming a crack whore.

I leave her out of my sight for 4 hours and the next thing I know I’m getting text photos from people I know who are also at the event. The most disturbing of which shows Sue on the dance floor with MC Hammer backing her trunk into the dude’s junk. Anyone who knows my wife knows two things; she’s not real friendly, and she hates touching people or being touched by people. So while I don’t have the stomach to show you the dirty dancing photo’s of Suzanne being treated like one of Seattle Slews’ stud filly’s, I can show you the least painful picture I received. Am I mistaken or does Sue appear to be both friendly and touchy feely with her new rapper pal.

MC was figuring it was hammer time when the “former” lovely Mrs. Lynch trotted by.

PJ Buynack already had the perfect Rock n Roll outfit; and thank goodness, he found the perfect rug.

Ron Szuch also made an appearance at the Rock Hall Fundraiser.

My Bowling League Heads to Florida

Sooner or later it was bound to happen; My Bowling League has branched out to the Sunshine state for a little fresh material. With My Bowling Leagues in Naples and Daytona Beach, there should be ample opportunity for current Cleveland members to pick up a road game when they’re vacationing down south.

The Naples league will not be a mentally stimulating place to be because the majority of the initial members are descendents of the Isphording clan. For those of you unaware of the Isphording family history, let me sum it up by saying that there are 4 generations and 128 family members living in a 6 block radius of one another, and not one of them has finished high school. Shit, half of them never made it to high school, and it’s a safe bet that the other half can’t spell high school. Nonetheless, this big group of carnival ride operators and Slurpy servers are a fun bunch of kind hearted dim wits.

Former Clevelander’s Tom and Dave Isphording, along with two other hairless goofy bastards, make up Florida Team 1, “The Bowling Balds”

Margie Isphording Hull (3rd from right) has plenty of relatives to sub for Florida Team 2 “Margie and the Beave Waxer’s”

I don’t anticipate that the Daytona Beach League will be full of genius’ either. After all, it is home to NASCAR and Motorcycle Week. So, even if these people had some smarts, everyone’s eardrums are shot and nobody can understand anything anybody says. Megen Boswell will be the point person if this league does actually happen, in the mean time; her only job is to sell “My Bowling League Spring Break” T-shirts to all the hapless and drunk college kids who spend the week pissing on her sidewalk. I’m hoping those revenues will fund next year’s bowling banquet, which we will talk about later.

The yet to be named Florida Team 3 is lead by, Bi-Polar Megen Boswell (left) and her very popular alter-ego Megen Boozewell (right) I believe she/they still need at least 3 more teammates.

This league may take a while to grow, but I think when word spreads of the unique talents and personalities the league has to offer, it may gain steam quickly.

I know that a lot of people leave Cleveland and move to Florida, but I don’t share that same dream because once you get past the lack of sunshine, Cleveland is way better place to live, if you can keep a few things in mind.

For those people who bitch about the gloomy, freezing winter weather up north, might I ask you the last time Hurricane Anything tore through your house and blew your refrigerator a mile down the road?

Typical activity on a bad weather day in Cleveland (left) and a typical activity on a bad weather day in Florida (right)

The squirrels and skunks are definitely a nuisance, but when was the last time you let your kids play in the backyard and had to worry that an alligator might stroll by and eat them?

Typical Florida backyard (left) and a typical Cleveland backyard (right)

Granted, Lake Erie doesn’t have miles of white sandy beaches, let alone inches of it, and yes you can get stung by bees and bitten by flies, but you have to admit, it beats the hell out of being stung by jellyfish and bitten by sharks.

Typical day on Lake Erie (left) and a typical day in the Atlantic Ocean (right)

Well, enough of my warm welcome, I'll be back with bowling news soon.

Happy Birthday to the Lovely Mrs. Lynch!

Oh, p.s. fellas....if you tell your wife she looks like a cougar, explain that you mean she could get a guy 15 years younger than her. Do not say it's because she looks 15 years older than you.

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Some This, That, The Other

2010-05-10T06:37:00.006-04:00

THIS
NOT BOOZE CRUISE NEWS YET

I’m not sure that the airport TSA agents or, for that matter, anybody at The Department of
Homeland Security has the slightest clue what they’re doing. They let some dude named Faisal Shahzad purchase a last minute, one way airline ticket, in cash, to Pakistan. Oh, and I forgot to mention that his name was on the no fly list. In fact, not just his name, but his age, his birth date, his address, every necessary bit of information needed to identify the precise individual that we do not want to let on a plane. Yes, I am talking about the would-be Times Square bomber.

Oddly enough, my name also happens to be on a no fly list. It turns out that there is a gentleman named Martin Lynch living in Belfast, Northern Ireland, who was believed to have handled the day to day operations of the Provisional Irish Republican Army. I have been detained several times, but strangely, I am not detained every time. In fact, I kind of get pissed when I’m not stopped. I get concerned when I am quickly ticketed and whisked through the TSA checkpoint. Don’t these people realize who I am, I mean, who I could be. For god’s sake, pay attention people.

So let me get this straight, no TSA red flags come up for Faisal Shahzad (left) but for the threatening looking Martin Lynch (right) we make the dogs start sniffing.

So on our recent Booze Cruise does TSA stop me, this guy named Martin Lynch whose name is on the no-fly list? Nope. Do they look at me funny? Nope. Do they even bother to glance at my driver’s license? No Sir-ee Bob. What about Mike Profeta; Give the guy a towel and a prayer rug and he’d be the spitting image of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed. Do they stop him? No they do not; apparently DHS has bigger fish to fry. These freakin yahoos decide that the real potential threat on this flight was my 80 year old mother who we were tooling around in an airport wheelchair.

I’ve known Mike Profeta for 10 years, and he appears to be a very hard working and honorable man. However, there are a few things that do make me lift my eyebrows. First, in the last 3 years he has made a total of 21 trips to Saudi Arabia, Dubai, and Kuwait. Second, though I have spent hours upon hours discussing his business with him, I still haven’t figured out what exactly it is that he does. And lastly, but not the least concerning, is that he prefers to eat by himself while sitting cross legged on the floor.

Now, having said that, I am in no way trying to insinuate that Mike is any kind of threat to this country whatsoever, but if I’m a TSA guy and Allibaba Profeta hands me his passport, and he blasts me with that nasty curry breath, I guarantee you that I’m going to at least ask a question or two.

So let me get this straight, no TSA red flags come up for Mike “Sheik Mohammad” (left) but for the threatening looking Charlotte “Sheik My Momma” (right) we make the dogs start sniffing.

THAT

FACEBOOK BIRTHDAYS

Is there some kind of Miss Manners or etiquette guide for determining which of your Facebook friends you are required to wish a Happy Birthday? Okay look, I’m not gonna beat around the bush, I just had a birthday and my math says that only 25.87% of my Facebook friends took the time to wish me a happy birthday. I think that kind of sucks, but I don’t know for sure; for all I can gather, maybe that’s actually pretty good. I figured it was time to throw my Sherlock Holmes hat back on and see what I could come up with.

Since Sherry Tighe shares my birthday, and since she’s fairly popular and well liked, I decided that I would find out how she fared in our Facebook happy birthday derby. Turns out she didn’t do quite as well as Ole Martin V. Her 25.76% response rate (mostly family I should point out) kind of made me feel better.

However, while I was doing my investigating I uncovered something interesting; in fact, it was almost troubling until I worked my way through it. It turns out that Linda Carney, Katy Profeta, PJ Buynack, and Dee Dee Bondra are FB friends of both Sherry and the King Pin. As I did my cross referencing, flow charts, graphs, and statistical probability measurements, I realized that these four people wished Sherry a happy birthday, but failed to take the time to acknowledge my special day on Facebook.

Now I know that Linda was dealing with a medical emergency so I can let her off the hook; even though she found a way to break free of that emergency long enough to post something for Sherry, but never mind that, I’ll give her a pass.

Before performing her boil removal surgery, doctors instructed Linda Carney to first undergo a painful emergency room ass wax procedure.

I’m pretty sure that Katy Profeta has the hots for me, big time. So it clearly makes sense that she would intentionally not send wishes my way. She’s a smart girl and realizes she shouldn’t do anything to arouse suspicions. Besides that, I think she’s grown accustomed to pining for me in the solitude of her own fantasy world. PJ did not Facebook me a happy birthday, but I went back to my cell phone and verified that he sent me a text birthday wish, so he’s good.

Katy Profeta trying to figure out a nonchalant way of sinking her claws into Ole Martin V.

That leaves Dee Dee Bondra as the only crossover friend that I cannot find a way to explain her blatant, mean spirited thoughtlessness. I went round and round and round, until finally I came to the only logical conclusion there could possibly be. Dee Dee knows how sensitive I am, and she intentionally set out to hurt my feelings.

Dee Dee Bondra sinks her first needle into her King Pin voodoo doll. What an evil woman.

The lovely Mrs. Lynch told me that I should have put out a FB post thanking everyone for their warm birthday wishes. I was about to do just that when it dawned on me that the FB post would also be sent to the other 75% of my “alleged” friends who didn’t bother to take a measly 30 seconds out of their “busy” day to acknowledge my birthday. Like I’ve said all along; you people suck.

THE OTHER

MOTHER'S DAY

Mother’s Day is bullshit, but Father’s Day makes perfect sense; and here’s why. On Father’s Day guys behave like father’s; they cut the grass, they pull weeds, they put down mulch, they fix broken bicycles, they play catch with the kids, and because it’s part of the job description, they try and convince the old lady to throw a little snatch their way. On Mother’s Day, women bitch that it’s Mother’s Day and that they shouldn’t have to do a god damn thing. They obviously have mistaken Mother’s Day for Queen’s Day, which I should point out, does not exist.

On Mother’s Day, women should behave like mothers. They should strap themselves to their daughter’s side for the day, dust off the Easy Bake Oven, throw some cookies in there, drag out the Singer sewing machine and hem some shit. Following that, they should plant some pretty flowers and then grab a pile of coupons and go grocery shopping. When they get back and unload the bags, they should whip up a meatloaf and surround it with a bunch of starchy food, and of course, those cookies they just made. A mother’s sole job is to teach her daughter how to one day be a mother herself. One who, when the time comes will have learned all of the necessary maternal skilled required to enable her to take proper care of a family.

So ladies, stop whining to your kids about how awful the morning sickness was, how sore your back got, how swollen your fingers and feet became, and just how terribly painful labor and delivery were. To listen to you women, you’d think you were the first, last, and only female to ever plop a kid out. It ain’t that tough; otherwise, 93% of you women wouldn’t have gone back and done it again. So suck it up, grab your husband a beer, assuming you haven’t run him off; and make sure you don’t bother him during the Cavaliers game. Better yet, why don’t you go to your room by yourself and watch a little Lifetime Television, and perhaps catch up on your beauty rest.

Oh, p.s. happy mother’s day!

Oh, p.s.s. this mother's day post was an anonymous entry

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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Planes, Trains, and Chip is still an Idiot

2010-05-06T15:00:00.007-04:00

Here we go again. Chip “Mr. Thrifty” Tighe sure showed all of us just what a terrific bargain shopper he is. The minute he hung up the phone after booking his airfare he couldn't wait to start bragging about how he saved a grand total of $39.86 on his and Sherry’s airline travel to and from the “My Bowling League Booze Cruise” ship in Miami last week.

Bear with me as I attempt to explain the seemingly unexplainable behavior of what could be the cheapest, and dumbest bastard on the entire freakin’ planet.

Issue 1: The Carnival Funship, "Destiny" will depart the port of Miami at 4pm Saturday April 24th. Our little “Julie McCoy,” PJ Buynack, sent out his standard travel informational email, as he has done each year, well in advance so that everyone going on the cruise has plenty of time to make travel arrangements. Included as a courtesy were the details of two non-stop Continental flights leaving Cleveland for either Miami or Fort Lauderdale departing 9am, arriving 11:45am. Also included were these instructions; whatever flight you book, make sure your plane is scheduled to arrive “by” 1pm, and under no circumstance should you book a flight “requiring” a connection in another city.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with just how screwed up, scrambled, and miss-wired the inter-workings of Chip Tighe’s brain are, let me explain a little further. I can assure you that Chip read the exact same instructions as everybody else, but because of his odd incestual gene pool, this is what actually registered in this dickheads skull….. whatever flight you book, make sure your plane is scheduled to arrive “after” 1pm, and under no circumstance should you book a flight “that does not require ” a connection in another city.

The standard male brain wiring

Chip's tangled mess brain wiring

Maybe I’m missing something, but please tell me if the itinerary I chose for the Lynch’s, was a better overall value than the itinerary Chip chose for the Tighe’s. I wake up well rested at 6:30am. At 6:31am, I offer to provide the lovely Mrs. Lynch with some unforgettable romance. At 6:31 and 5 seconds, the lovely Mrs. Lynch feigns playing hard to get and respectfully declines my generous offer of magical love. We have a leisurely bacon and egg breakfast and leave for the Cleveland airport at 7:15am. We arrive at our gate 1 hour prior to our 9am departure and laugh and converse with the other 14 bowling cruisers on this flight.

By 12:45pm we have arrived in Fort Lauderdale, collected our checked baggage, secured $12 per person, air conditioned shuttle service to the port of Miami, followed the signage that said something to the effect of “My Bowling League Cruise Passengers please do not wait in these long lines, but instead, please proceed to the VIP lounge where we will immediately check you in while you relax on our comfortable couches.” At 1:15pm 28 of the 30 MBL Booze Cruisers were on deck with their Open Bar Card in one hand and an umbrella drink in the other. (total per person transportation cost $293, travel time 5.5 hours)

Mariabella, the 31 year old single heiress to the Bank of Argentina was immediately smitten with Ole Martin V, and go figure, all of a sudden the lovely Mrs. Lynch started paying attention to the King Pin.

The itinerary that Chip chose was the following: Wake up at 3:30am, skip showering and have a rushed Cheetos and Dr. Pepper breakfast before leaving for the Akron-Canton airport at 4am. Board the 5:50am Air-Tran flight to a bustling Atlanta airport where they will have a relaxing 4 hour and 52 minute layover. They will then board the connecting flight, “originally scheduled” to arrive in Miami at 2:37pm.

Clearly, no one could have ever predicted the possibility that the connecting flight would be delayed; but oddly enough, that’s just what happened. By the time that flight became airborne, the new arrival time was 3:41pm. Even a guy who attended Cathedral Latin High School could figure out that the math was not in his favor. Tighe would have a total of 19 minutes for his plane to taxi to the gate, go to baggage claim, wait for his checked luggage, and hail a $40 cab for the 20 minute ride to the ship.

Tighe would have normally tried to split the 4 passenger cab with six other people, but Hazzead Shazzez could sense Chip (pronounce cheap in Arabic) was in a hurry.

By 1pm, Sherry Tighe had the sense to text PJ Buynack and alert him of the situation. PJ immediately went to the customer service desk on the Lido deck where he learned that the Tighe’s plane had 26 passengers on board who were scheduled to be on this ship. However, 24 of those 26 had purchased their air travel directly through Carnival Cruise Lines. By 3pm, Carnival had already made Ritz-Carlton hotel and dinner reservation, and Sunday morning flight arrangements, not to mention, all ground transportation requirements for those 24 people to meet up with the ship in Ocho Rios, Jamaica. The ship would be leaving on schedule at 4pm.

Hey Mr. Thrifty, maybe next year you can book yourself on a real “value vessel” The Haitian High Seas funship "Destiny America."

As news spread of the Tighe’s situation, someone decided to conduct a non-scientific survey, which showed that 20% of the bowling cruisers were actively praying for Chip and Sherry to make the boat. The other 80% were actively praying for Sherry to make the boat and for Chip to miss it. PJ decided that, somehow, someway, he had to convince Carnival to hold the boat, well at least for Sherry. I’m not sure who he talked to, or what he said, but at precisely 4:27pm the following three things happened simultaneously. The gangway was separated from the ship, the ropes tethering the ship were removed from the iron cleat, and the Tighes jumped on board. (total per person transportation cost $282, travel time 12.5 hours…….btw, those were roughly the same travel times coming back to Cleveland….and I almost forgot, 3.5 hours of open bar he paid for but wasn’t on board to drink, $68)

Chip tried to save even more money by flying Bow Wow Airlines; unfortunately, they only had one seat available.

Is there even more stupid Tighe shit to this story than what I've told you? Yes, of course there is. Are there other ridiculous Booze Cruise stories for me to share? Yes, of course there are, however, I prefer to save them for another blog.

Slowly recalling things,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Getting Reaquainted

2010-05-02T09:38:00.008-04:00

THANKS FOR NOTHING

It’s been a month and a half since I put anything on the blog, and guess what? Not one of you selfish bastards picked up the phone to see if I was okay. No one dropped me an email, nor did any of you even bother to check with the neighbors. In short, not a single person took the time to show the slightest bit of concern for my well being. Which only goes to prove what I’ve been saying all along; you people totally suck. There I was laid up for weeks as some asshole doctor diagnosed me with Neurocysticercosis, then with Colchicine poisoning, followed by Arteriovenous. After this freak changed his mind again and decided that I had Delayed-onset Common Variable Immunodeficiency (CVID) – Secondary to phenytoin-mediated Epstein-Barr virus infection, my wife Sue, who prefers to be introduced as Suzanne, took me home and gave me a double Fleet enema; and I hate to admit it, but I’ve felt fine ever since.

Do not let this Dr. House guy admit you; he’s kind of a dick.

FINAL BOWLING RECAP FOR SEASON 3

Bowling is over for Season III and it doesn’t matter who won or lost in the championship match on March 14th. What matters is; will there be a banquet, and will there be a Season IV. Unfortunately, I don’t have a definitive answer about the banquet at this time; but it is safe to say that for some of you, neither the banquet nor Season IV will be in your future.

The lovely Mrs. Lynch has strongly suggested that I not arbitrarily throw any teams out of the league this year, nor am I allowed to badger people who don’t want to return. I thought I was upholding the integrity of the league by eliminating the dead weight, and by harassing those who would turn their back on my fellow members. Therefore, I have decided to disband the league entirely, and start the new and improved “My Bowling League.” This way if any team doesn’t want to bowl next year, they can simply forget to fill out the new application. And for those teams that I don’t want back next year, I can just claim that I never received their application.

If you look closely you may see the name Bondra on that application. This would fall under the never received category.

WAS MIKE BROWN ON THE CLOCK?

Mike Brown may not be as big a dick as his wife Tina thinks he is……but after reading this link, I think it will be pretty clear to all of us that our boy Browner will go to great lengths to get out of going to work on Fridays.

http://blog.cleveland.com/metro/2010/04/a_farewell_to_an_old_soldier_w.html

THE MY BOWLING LEAGUE BOOZE CRUISE

The short answer is, I don’t remember it too clearly. However, in the very near future I predict things will be coming back to me; and when they do, I’ll be sure to do at least a brief recap.

Stay tuned, I’ll be back in the groove soon.

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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This, That, and The Other

2010-03-23T19:41:00.009-04:00

Here’s a quick wrap up of my St. Patty’s Week, that’s right, it’s no longer just a day.

THIS

As some of you know, I have been a judge in the Cleveland St. Patrick’s Day Parade for the last 6 or so years. You might also remember me telling you that My Bowling League would be entering marchers dressed as bowling pins in this year’s parade. Well, that didn’t happen because I realized that having ten pins and no bowling ball leading the way would look a little stupid. I had the pin costumes ready to go, but unfortunately, I couldn’t come up with a bowling ball costume that looked as good or as real as the pins. Then, the day after the parade I saw one of our very own bowlers zipping down the road on his snazzy two-wheeler……………I’m pretty sure I found the missing piece for next year’s parade.

Hey Mike Brown, I have a job for you.

My sister Beth claims I never told her that we pulled out of the parade. She also said that I should have put eye holes in the bowling pin costume. I think she’s right on both accounts.

THAT

Last weekend I went to a restaurant called Stone Mad; it’s an Irish bar on West 65th Street near Detroit Road. If you haven’t been there I would definitely recommend it, well, with one caveat that is. If you order the banana peppers stuffed with the spicy-hot sausage, be prepared to flat out scream the next time you sit on the toilet. If you’re not used to food like that, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get the blow dryer ready and set it on cool. After about 20 minutes of steady blow drying, the pulsating heart beat in my butt-hole finally subsided. This was lucky for me because my son grew tired of holding the blow dryer and pointing it at my ass. The good news for him is that I did keep my word and took him to the Dollar Store right afterwards.

My youngest son just before he learned how to help cool daddy down.

As you can see, my oldest son has had a bit more experience helping dear old dad.

Anyhow, the ambiance at Stone Mad is great; the stone work is incredible, and the menu is terrific. Furthermore, the outdoor patio is beautiful, and believe it or not, this Irish pub has an indoor bocce court for my Italian friends. However, there is one thing that puzzles me; I’m not sure if I should recommend our waitress Rebecca, or if I should tell you to steer clear of her.

Stone Mad Pub, 1306 West 65th Street, 44102…You’ll love it!

Here’s what happened. The hostess seats us, and then our waitress Rebecca comes over and introducers herself. She then points to two other waitresses across the room and informs us that she is training them and don’t be surprised if they come to our table to check up on us and help out with the service. Sounds good to me. Rebecca took our order and by golly, we didn’t see her again until she brought the check. In the mean time the other two servers, Gretchen and Kathleen provided us with outstanding service; we wanted for nothing. Water glass empty, here comes Gretchen, need another round, here comes Kathleen. Shit, when we finished eating the owner himself came to clear away the dishes. This girl Rebecca was doing a great job training and directing the staff at Stone Mad, and I would be certain to tell her what an outstanding job she had done, and to tip her handsomely, which I did.

Now check this out. The lovely Mrs. Lynch sends me out to pull the car up for her, and in the mean time; she uses the lady’s room. Anyhow, Sue’s in the stall when the waitresses, Gretchen and Kathleen come in bitching up a storm about that “lazy ass” Rebecca. Turns out, these two gals have been working there for over a year, and Rebecca is the one who just started last week. Sue also overheard the allegation that Rebecca spent the night going back and forth to the parking lot to provide “service” to her fiancée. Which I might point out, kind of makes me happy she didn’t actually serve me anything. Nonetheless, I have to give her credit, because if it weren’t for her not doing a damn thing, I may have had shitty service.

I’m pretty sure Kathleen and Gretchen had no idea Sue was in that stall. I’m also pretty sure Sue drank too much and forgot to pull her panties down.

So back to the original dilemma, should I recommend Rebecca as your server, I’ve got to go with yes, because if Rebecca’s your server you’re likely to have two well trained waitresses keeping an eye on you all night long. And if I were to recommend Gretchen or Kathleen, odds are they would be too busy covering for Rebecca to actually provide their own tables with adequate service.

Gretchen, Rebecca, and Kathleen; just as Meatloaf sang it, “2 out of 3 ain’t bad.”

AND THE OTHER

The lovely Mrs. Lynch and I went looking for a new stove last weekend. We met a very nice and knowledgeable appliance salesman who introduced himself as Allan. I said, “hello Allan, I’m Marty and this is my wife Sue.” My wife immediately turns her face toward me, smugly looks down her nose at me and says, “I prefer to be introduced as Suzanne.” Now as you can probably imagine, there was a ton of shit I thought about saying to my friendless, bitchy wife, but wisely, I didn’t. Instead, I apologized to her and said let me try this again. At which time I said, “hello Allan, I’m Marty and this is my wife Sue, who prefers to be introduced as Suzanne.” ………. I probably should have left it at sorry dear.

This is the oven that Sue and I originally decided was in our budget.

This is the oven Suzanne “preferred” to break the budget with….Maybe by the time we get done with the 72 easy payments, Sue, errrrrrr, Suzanne will have learned how to cook something besides toast.

Boner Appetit,

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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An Irish Family

2010-03-17T10:49:00.017-04:00

Us Irish folk tend to get a wee bit sentimental around St. Patrick's Day, and then for some reason, we tell long winded stories. We also tend to over-indulge in the spirits and usually forget what story we were telling, nonetheless, indulge me if you will, as I share a story I wrote for my two son's a decade ago.....................and trust me, I'll be back to my usual self tomorrow.

These pictures have nothing to do with this blog, I just kinda like them.

Dear Son,

Do you remember the story that I used to tell you about Emmett O'Malley. Maybe it's time to refresh your memory. In a country called Ireland, in a county called Cork, there lived a family called the O'Malley's. Three generations of O'Malley's lived in a large cluster of charming field stone cottages on top of a hill overlooking a valley. At family celebrations, the entire clan would gather at Grandpa Seamus' home, which sat right in the middle of all the other cottages. On one such occasion, Grandpa Seamus was entertaining all the kids with tales of Irish folk lore. When he finished, he took turns asking all the children what they wanted to do once they were fully grown. A farmer said one, a singer said another, a story-teller, a pub owner, a doctor, and the children went on and on. All the children answered, all the children, except young Emmett.

After the children went about doing other things, Grandpa Seamus grabbed Emmett, put him upon his lap and said " and Emmett me fine lad, what is it that you wish to be when you're a grown man?" Emmett looked square into his grandpa's eyes and said "Grandpa Seamus, when I grow up, I wish to be the richest man in all of Ireland." Grandpa Seamus smiled and said, "tis that a fact, so the richest man in all of Ireland you wish to be, aye me lad?" "Indeed I do" said Emmett. A twinkle came to his eye, and a grin to his face as he told young Emmett that he knew the secret to becoming the richest man in all of Ireland.

Emmett's eyes opened wide as he said "you do, why please tell me grandpa, please tell." Grandpa Seamus looked at Emmett quite seriously and said, "Emmett sweet lad, have you heard the tale that there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?" "Why of course" said Emmett, "tis it true grandpa?" Grandpa Seamus nodded his head and replied, "Indeed it is Emmett. All you must do is get to the end of that rainbow and you will find your pot of gold, and I assure you lad, you will be the richest man in all of Ireland."

A few days later the rain came. As the rain was letting up, the sun began to shine, and a beautiful rainbow appeared. It stretched out from above his head, clear across the valley, and over to the other hillside. Emmett set out to find his pot of gold, and become the richest man in all of Ireland. Emmett hadn't gotten far, when the mist subsided and the rainbow suddenly disappeared. He would not get to the end of the rainbow that day. Emmett would try again and again. First he jogged, but to no avail. Then he ran, the result the same. He would try by mule, then by bicycle, yet still he couldn't reach the end of the rainbow. His childhood years and his teenage years would pass, but Emmett kept trying to get to the end of the rainbow. He wanted desperately to find that pot of gold and become the richest man in all of Ireland.

As time passed, Emmett took a wife and became a father. He built himself his own cottage in the thick of the cluster and worked along side his kin on the family farm. Grandpa Seamus became Great Grandpa Seamus, yet he remained quick as a whip and stayed as fit as a fiddle. Emmett still hadn't given up hope. When the next rain came, Emmett decided he would be ready. One morning he was awakened by thunder. He quickly got dressed and made his way through the rain and into the barn. He sat himself on top of his motorcycle and waited with hopes that a rainbow would appear. As the sun began to rise from beneath the valley; the most beautiful rainbow that Emmett had ever seen rose in the sky. Emmett followed that rainbow right from his barn, clear across the valley, and over to the other hillside. Emmett raced along on his motorcycle. He was more than half way there when he realized he'd never made it this far before. He began talking to the rainbow, please don't disappear he yelled to the sky. The rainbow heard him, and Emmett made it to the other hillside while the rainbow stood bright in the sky. Emmett got off the motorcycle and hurriedly looked all over for the pot of gold. Where is it grandpa, he said to himself. I've made it to the end of the rainbow, where is it, where is the pot of gold. Emmett search frantically, yet he saw no pot of gold. Had his grandpa lied to him, or did someone else beat him to it?

Emmett looked back up to the sky to ensure that he was at the end of the rainbow. His eyes slowly followed the beautiful colors up, and up, and then over across the valley. Finally, he followed the colors back down, and as his eyes reached the bottom of the rainbow he simply stared. What he saw were the roof tops of a cluster of field stone cottages, all of which were occupied, by members of his family. He had never seen a rainbow from this vantage point. And now that he had, he finally understood what Grandpa Seamus was talking about. You see, Emmett never considered that there were two ends of a rainbow. For all these years Emmett was looking for his pot of gold at the wrong end of the rainbow. It was only then that Emmett realized that he was ever so fortunate to have a strong, caring family. A wonderful wife, an adorable child, brothers and sisters, parents and grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, all of whom loved him so very much. It was that very day that Emmett O'Malley finally made it to the end of the rainbow.

He knew in his heart that he did find that pot of gold, and yes, he realized that he was the richest man in all of Ireland.

It took me awhile to realize it, but I am Emmett O'Malley.

I hope one day that you are too.
.

Love Dad

This picture does mean something. It's the outfit that the lovely Mrs. Lynch will be wearing when I get home tonight!

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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February 28, 2010 Recap

2010-03-07T16:24:00.009-05:00

For those of you who didn’t get a chance to get a good look at the new haircut the lovely Mrs. Lynch surprised me with, here’s the lid I’m walking around with these days.

I told Sue she gave me a shitty haircut. She told me the haircut was fine, I just need to touch up the grey………then she said; oh by the way, now we’re even.

There really is no good way to say this, so screw it, here goes. For the third straight year, “The Spare Me’s” are bowling in the My Bowling League Championship game; but that’s not the bad part. The bad part is the fact that Dick Dongo and “Team Hate” are also playing for this year’s title. It didn’t take me long to realize that no one wants either of these two teams to be crowned the champions, so here is the alternate plan we are going to utilize this year. I’m sure most of you folks are familiar with it because we talked about it last season. This year we are going with the Obama plan.

Very simply put, whoever wins the contest will immediately give their championship title to the team that comes in last place; which this year will be either “No Spare Time” or coincidentally, my squad, “Minds in the Gutter.”

I can’t get the winner on the cover of the Wheaties box, but Campbell’s did agree to name a soup after Dick Dongo if his team prevails. (Actually, they said they’d do it even it his team loses)

When I realized that this week’s My Bowling League Queen was none other than Highland Hts. Mayor Scott Coleman, I gotta tell you; I was kind of embarrassed for the guy. Now, the fact that he was 19 pins under his average doesn’t embarrass me; furthermore, the fact that his team, “The Eliminators” could have been playing for the championship had he not choked, doesn’t embarrass me either. What concerns me is that after his horrendous performance, My Bowling League may now have the weakest kneed Mayor in the history of Freeway Lanes.

Considering Cleveland Hts. Mayor Ed Kelley (left) sports a Lady Bug like 102 average, and former East Cleveland Mayor Eric Brewer (right) sport Lady Bug like lingerie, you’d think we’d be proud of Coleman.

By the way, Coleman wasn’t the only person to piss himself last week. Tom Rudibaugh, with the 4th highest average in the league was batting clean-up for “Gutter Done,” and merely needed a mark plus 2 in the tenth to keep his teams hopes alive. After leaving the head pin with his first ball, Tom stepped back to calm himself. That’s when I noticed a very Curt Shilling like scene. Just as Shilling came to the mound in the World Series with his blood stained sock, similarly, Rudibaugh took to the hard wood with shit pouring down onto his tri-colored shoes and ankle high socks. Then, not eight feet down the lane after releasing his second ball, like a magnet, Rudibaugh’s $160 Brunswick was sucked directly into the gutter; game over.

Contrary to the rumor circulating at the lanes last week, we are not renaming The Lady Bug List, “The TJ Sell, Dave Miller, and Patrick Getty List;” but we probably should, but we’re not.

After posting a 212 in game one, Kathleen Getty cruised to this week’s My Bowling League King award. Her 22 pins over average were just a tad better than Mimi Millers 17 above average.

Once again, Kathleen Getty happily straps on the sausage.

It won’t be official until after next week, but it’s a pretty safe bet that either Dawn Rossi or Ann Marie Mills will win the “I Suck More Than Anyone Else in the Entire League” award.

See you at Freeway Lanes on Sunday March 14, 2010 for our final week of bowling for My Bowling League, Season Three.

Short and Sweet,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Save The Date?????

2010-03-07T15:51:00.007-05:00

Check this out.

Last Saturday night Andrew Ryzner takes Yo Yo, his fiancée to the St. Ann’s reverse raffle and gets her all liquored up on the cheap $2 wine. At 11pm she starts asking Ryzner to take her home because she’s not feeling well. After pleading with him for two hours he finally agrees, begrudgingly, to leave at 1am. Yo Yo quickly falls asleep in the car; meaning that Andrew is going to have to figure out a way to get her into the house, right? Wrong; he has to figure out how to close the car door without waking her when he gets to the Colony Tavern for a nightcap.

Andrew Ryzner at The Colony, doing a little night capping with a couple of perfect strangers.

When they close the bar at 2:30 he returns to the car to find that Yo Yo got, as he puts it, “just a little bit sick on her shoulder and on the inside of the car door.” Because he loves her so much he decided that he should clean her up a bit. Unfortunately there is nothing in the car to wipe her down with. So does “Mr. Knight in Shining Armor” take off his Hugo Boss pin-point shirt and use it to clean her up? Nope, does he use his 100% cotton Hanes undershirt? Nope, how about the Cleveland Brown’s ski hat he found in the glove compartment? Nope, Ryzner decides that he loves her enough to take off his sock and wipe her face down with that.

As Ryzner puts it, Yolonda got “just a little bit sick.”

Here’s where it kind of went bad for the recently engaged Ryzner. When Yo wakes up, is she nestled all warm and snug in her bed? Au contraire; she’s on the floor of the garage, with her feet under the car, she has a sock stuck in her right ear, and her left jug is half way out of her top.

Maybe it’s just me, but Yolonda looks pretty comfortable.

She goes inside to find Andrew lying on the couch with an empty Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese dish on his lap, and a bone dry 2 liter bottle of Dr. Pepper on the floor. She wakes him and learns that after leaving the raffle they came right home; he brought her inside, put her in bed, and fluffed the pillows for her. So all he can figure is that she was so over-served that she must have gone back outside on her own during the middle of the night. She actually believed him, and then apologized for ruining his night. He graciously accepted and thought he was in the clear until someone from the Colony Tavern left a message on their answering machine saying that Yo had left her purse in the bar.

Hey Ryzner, I hope that couch is comfortable, I’ve got this feeling you’re gonna be spending a lot of time there. Now go wash your hands.

Totally busted, Ryzner decides it’s time to come clean. After which, Yo Yo asks him why he took her purse into the bar with him? And this my friends, is the problem with today’s youth; they don’t think before they speak. He looks her in the eye and says, “What do I look stupid, that’s a dangerous neighborhood and I didn’t want someone breaking into the car and stealing the purse; it’s a total pain in the ass to have to cancel all of your credit cards.”

FYI - Ryzner’s previous engagement to Brandi Glass ended after similar circumstances.

Some marriages are made in heaven, but I absolutely, positively guarantee, this ain’t one of them.

I’m still saving the date, but I’m not sure I need to.

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Celebrity Look a Likes Phase 4

2010-03-06T16:38:00.011-05:00

I’m not sure if anyone else will see the resemblance, but I do.

Kate Gavin (left) and Ohio State graduate and comic writer Bruce Vilanch; two peas in a pod.

Then there’s always Dave “The Salt Man” Koski and his celebrity look-a-like.

I’m thinking the Rod Blagojevich picture on the right looks more like Dave Koski than the actual Dave Koski picture does.

I didn't realize that Al Roker was a man of so many faces.

Michelle & Bill Davis , meet your animated stunt doubles, Natasha & Boris.

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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A Minor Correction

2010-02-22T11:40:00.005-05:00

It appears that the lovely Mrs. Lynch has lost her sense of humor. In the February 19th blog, the picture I used of her after an exhausting night of bowling did not go over well. Unfortunately she saw it right before we left for the Cooperstown Fundraiser at Casa di Borally last Saturday night. The first thing Sue does when she’s mad is to pull out the old silent treatment. Now, is it just me, or do all men look forward to the silent treatment? It’s like the most peaceful time of my life, shit if they could bottle it, I’d use it every day.

Anyhow, after a nice quiet ride to the banquet, Sue immediately bumps into Sherry Tighe and the whole blog thing comes up. This did not go well for me either. After Sue bends Sherry’s ear about what a dick head I am, and promising that I’ve seen the last of the ole snatchola, Sherry volunteers that she’s quite happy with the photo I used for her. In fact, she said it made her look and feel young and vibrant, and put her in a great mood. Now in Sue’s girl brain that obviously means I must want to screw Lady Tighe, otherwise I would have found a fat, hairy, ugly picture for her as well.

I’m not sure why that old saying, “when you’re in a hole stop digging,” didn’t pop into my head, but I sure wish it had. But no, I decide that I’m a pretty smooth talker and that this was a simple misunderstanding that I could clear up in no time flat. So what did I come up with? I told Sue that I found that picture a while ago and was gonna use it on Mike Brown, but she told me to lay off the fat jokes with him. Then I told her I was gonna use it on Carla Bondra but couldn’t come up with anything; and, since it was such a good picture I hated to waste it. Everything went perfect, Sue seemed to calm down, she even put a little grin on her face; that was at 8:30 that night. I didn’t realize it then, but it turns out, at approximately 8:31, she got in the car and left.

So, in an effort to ensure I don’t go blind, I’d like to offer this editorial correction and updated picture of the lovely Mrs. Lynch.

I think exhausted is the best way to describe how Sue felt after a long night of bowling.

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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February 14, 2010 Recap

2010-02-19T17:37:00.008-05:00

At 12 pins over her average, the lovely Mrs. Lynch was the winner of this week’s My Bowling League King award, and was therefore given the rights to the league sausage. Quickly realizing that she’s the last person in the world who would need any additional meat in her life, Sue graciously has placed the big fellow on loan to Sherry Tighe, who as we all know, has been stuck with “the stub” for all these years. Anyhow, Sherry was absolutely thrilled when she got the news.

I think ecstatic is the best way to describe how Sherry felt after Sue gave her the sausage.

I think exhausted is the best way to describe how Sue felt after a long night of bowling.

This week’s Queen will go to our brand new papa, Irv Treibatch. Apparently Irving is not getting much rest these days as his 17 pins below average were just a little more pathetic then Ryan McKinley’s 14 pins south of average.

Hopefully, Queen Irvabella can get some rest soon.

The lovely Mrs. Lynch was able to persuade me (in a Barry White sort of way) to forego this week’s Lady Bug List. It was most certainly an in-disguisable attempt to save TJ Sell and Dave Miller the embarrassment of being repeat recipients of this less than prestigious designation. Though not typically my style, I nonetheless, acquiesced to her wishes.

Now might be a good time to say your goodbyes to the Himmel’s and Sirselle’s who, because of their demanding schedules, won’t be able to participate in the league next year. We will all obviously miss them; that is, assuming you remember who they are. The Kane’s are clearly busy as well, but they will be joining another team next year so that they can continue to accompany us on the annual booze cruise.

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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This, That, and the Other

2010-02-19T17:18:00.014-05:00

REALITY

I’m not one to pry into other people’s business, but every now and then I like to check up on the lives of my relatives. I was talking to my 24 year old niece last month, and being the caring uncle that I am, I inquired as to whether or not she was dating anyone. She quickly said “no I’m not seeing anyone and I don’t plan on seeing anyone.” I figured I touched a sore spot and decided to let it go. She’s not a homely girl and should be able to get a date every now and again, so my gut was telling me she probably has a ton of character flaws, or anger issues, or something along those lines. Nonetheless, I gracefully backed off.

It wasn’t until last week that things came into focus for me. I was doing a little creeping on Facebook; you know, checking up on all of my nieces and nephews, making sure that they’re not getting into trouble. I found every one of them, except for Catie, the 24 year old. Turns out, that after hopping around I see her picture in one of my nephew’s friends list; and she’s using an alias. I’m not going to divulge how I made my way onto her page, but suffice to say, Sherlock Holmes ain’t got nothing on me.

As I scoured her Profile, her Wall, her Photos, things became painfully clear; the girl needs professional help. I learned that she is seeing someone, a man she gleefully refers to as her “little Guido Rican.” It also became clear that she is trying to hide her 16 years of Catholic education, (that her parents are still paying off) and worse yet, disavow her Irish heritage. Thank god my dad’s not alive or this would kill him. I don’t have the heart to tell my brother that next month she plans to quit her job, her good job, a job for which she is over paid, and under-qualified. Her brilliant plan is to take out a huge loan and start a local reality TV show called Erie Shores. Apparently her name on the show is going to be Ms. Noogie and her boyfriend will be called The Destination. Well, if you ask me, her life’s destined for failure and misery, but like I said, I don’t like to pry, so I’d prefer if one of you told my brother.

If Erie Shores works, I’m starting the reality show “The Housewives’ of My Bowling League,” and yeah, there will be nudity.

THE FIRST MARTIN V INVITATIONAL OF 2010

I had a Martin V Invitational at the Sell’s house last weekend; I called it a Marty Gras, pretty clever huh? Anyhow, Dick Dongo was there and by golly he just keeps getting dumber. He was complaining about how tough his life is with all this travel he has to deal with, and blah, blah, blah. Anyhow, I asked him what his wife did while he was on the road. Now I’m guessing that every other guy on the planet would have at least looked over his shoulder before answering that question, but not Dickie D. I’m going to try and condense his response, but it went something like this:

“Susanna begins her day with a pot of coffee, followed by dropping the boy off at school. When she returns home, she drains another pot of coffee while she curls up and reads for a couple of hours. She then proceeds to sleep off the caffeine with a refreshing three hour nap. She wakes up about 1pm for the Young and the Restless, or whatever the soap opera is. During the commercials she vacuums; which technically takes two hours, it’s just not continuous. Then at 3pm she swings by the BP station for a 48 ounce coffee to get her to and from the drive to pick up Junior at school. Then it’s back to the couch for some Oprah till dinner time, which apparently is a Lean Cuisine for her and whatever the kids decide to make for themselves. Then Queen Susanna plops her tail back down on the couch for an evening of Lifetime Television Entertainment and a couple of bags of chocolate covered pretzels.”

Now I suppose I could have given him the high sign to tip him off that Susanna was standing behind him the whole time, but for whatever reason, I didn’t. As I watched her mouth begin to grit and her face turn an odd shade of purple, I decided that I would remind motor mouth that it was his wife’s birthday and he might want to cut her some slack. To which he replied “her birthday, I don’t give a shit about her birthday, every damn day of her life is her birthday, she doesn’t do shit.”

Dick Dongo may have thought that a rolling pin was a good birthday present, but I have a feeling he’s going to regret giving her that gift.

THE LAST MARTIN V INVITATIONAL OF 2009

By the way, I had another Martin V Invitational at PJ Buynack’s house at Christmas, and Dave and Diane Koski made their way onto the list. It wasn’t because Diane is my dentist; it was because Dave is PJ’s dentist. Anyhow, I learned a couple of interesting things that night. First, for some reason, one which I can’t actually explain, I mistakenly thought that Diane was Jewish. This new gentile information leaves me with a rather large dilemma; do I break my doctor, dentist, accountant, attorney, Hebrew only rule, or do I ditch Diane and go to the phone book and find the first Rabinowitz DDS that shows up? Fortunately, I only go to the dentist every 7 or 8 years so I’ve got some time.

Diane Koski is nice and all, but I’m thinking Stanley Rabinowitz is a much safer bet.

Another thing I learned was that Dave has decided that since Diane only works 32 hours a week, she should be considered part time. Therefore he pays her at an hourly rate of $8.25, and believe it or not, makes her punch a time clock. The worst part is that she has to use that money to buy groceries and household supplies. Which means that while Dave zips down the road and puts his 2 hour Harry Buffalo lunch on the company visa card, Diane is back at the office brown bagging it in between patients.

By the way, try not to schedule any appointments at their office during the winter; but if you do, make sure you park right next to Dave’s car. This cheap bastard refuses to spend money on rock salt so his parking lot is a sheet of ice from November until April; except of course that little trail of salt that goes from his car door to the back door of his building. I never thought I’d find a person who could make Chip Tighe look like a big spender, and truth be told, I still haven’t. At the same time, I never thought I’d meet someone as cheap as Chip, but thanks to Dave Koski, I have.

That tight-wad bastard Dave Koski prepares to frugally de-ice his parking lot.

Don't forget to watch Miz Noogie, coming this Fall

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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January 31, 2010 Recap

2010-02-10T07:47:00.006-05:00

I’d be willing to bet that all of you folks enjoyed the Super Bowl; well, with the possible exception of Brian Himmel and Brian Kane that is. If you recall from last year’s banquet, these two guys shared the “Queer Little Bitch of the Year” award for 2009; and, as I was making my friendly rounds at the lanes last week, I noticed that I was getting the cold shoulder from these two Brian’s. I tried to make a little small talk, I tried asking about their kids, about how the jobs going, you name it; Ole Martin V went out of his way to be cordial. Nonetheless, these two guys wouldn’t talk to me; so I gave up trying.

It wasn’t until later that night when I bumped into Cristen Kane that I learned what was going on. These guys were pissed at me and were pouting all night because they had to bowl instead of going to some Grammy Award party at some little sissy bar they hang out at. Apparently, they had heard that someone named Pink was supposed to put on a spine-tingling performance that would be talked about for decades; and they knew they were missing it. Somewhat, but not entirely shocked, I explained to Cristen that we bowl every other week and as I prepared the schedule, I had to chose between bowling on the night of the Grammy’s or the night of the Super Bowl. She understood completely and said very matter of factly “that’s why they won the queer little bitch thing last year, and that’s probably why they’ll win it again this year.” It sure is tough to argue with that logic.

Kane and Himmel when they realized that the TV monitors at Freeway Lanes weren’t working, and they wouldn’t be watching the Grammy’s this year.

I don’t mean to harp on Himmel, but I may as well get this over with now. Brian is the My Bowling League Queen this week and gets to picture himself in that edgy black sequin dress that Taylor Swift sported on the red carpet runway last week. Brian was a whopping 23 pins below average, and I’m sure much of that off night had to do with the forlorn state he was in. Unfortunately, it gets worse; Melissa Himmel is this week’s Co-My Bowling League King as she wiped up the polyurethane pine wood runway with her 19 pins over average. Good news for Melissa is she finally has a real sausage in her life; perhaps now she’ll have some manly company to hang out with during the Super Bowl, while Brian is busy raiding her clothes closet.

Yo Melissa slow down, remember, you have to share the sausage this week.

Brian Himmel is whipping up an espresso and getting ready for the exciting half time show.

There’s big news in the Getty household as well, as Kathleen tied Melissa at 19 pins over average for her share of this week’s sausage. Mrs. Himmel said she has no problem sharing the meat, and in fact, she kind of looks forward to it.

We also have a nice Lady Bug List this week. The good doctor, Patrick Getty is back where he belongs as he headlines this week’s cast of failures. I will give Getty this; he was at least at his average, so he’s not on the list because he has a huge vajayjay, he’s on the list because his wife’s pecker is just way bigger than his.

Patrick Getty and his thumbtack (left) get ready for a swim; while Kathleen Getty and her junk get ready for a little stationary bike workout.

Other lucky Lady Bugs this week include previous recipients TJ Sell and Matt Creech, along with; you guessed it, Brian Himmel. Once again, Dave Miller was able to squeak his way off the Lady Bug List this week. So for the record, Dave, the 6’3” - 275 pounder, has out pinned his wife Mimi, the 4’ 3” - 81 pounder by a total of 5 pins over the last 6 games. Way to go Miller, you’re showing her who’s the boss aren’t you?

Dave and Mimi Miller all the way back on their first date.

Last Thursday, my wife was reading some crazy French tabloid newspaper with a photo of Angelina Jolie looking way-way hot on the cover. Figuring this might be a good opportunity to score some brownie points with the lovely Mrs. Lynch, I tell her that she looks just like Angelina. She said “honey aren’t you sweet,” then she says, “what a coincidence, I’m looking at a picture of Brad Pitt in this paper and he looks just like you.” Thinking that she was giving me some coded mating signal I sauntered over to her and said “really, let me see the picture.” This is when I realized why my wife doesn’t have any friends; she’s just a mean, insensitive bitch.

The lovely Mrs. Lynch will be sorry when I trade her ass in. I can change being fat, but she can’t change being a miserable nag.

Alright people, you know the drill, mum’s the word, I’ll see you this Sunday.

With warmth in my heart,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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A Little More This and That

2010-01-25T10:35:00.017-05:00

A LITTLE THIS

One of the new couples, Natalie and Irving Treibatch welcomed their first child into the world on January 16th. They have named their healthy 7lb. 6oz. son George, a family name on Natalie’s side. Irv called me yesterday to say that he kept the New Year’s resolution that I gave to him, and has already completed the DNA testing. He proudly reports that the boy is definitely his. Congratulations from all of us!

The curious young fella is clearly the spittin’ image of his dad.

A LITTLE THAT

Scott Mills called me the Thursday before bowling and asked if anybody needed subs, and by sheer coincidence, Brian Himmel had asked if the Mills were available. Finally, people having their shit together,…..or so I thought. Then at 4pm Sunday I get a text from Mills saying something “unavoidable” just came up, sorry, can’t make it. Apparently he thinks the Dee Dee Bondra rule doesn’t apply to subs.

I decided not to call him back and give him shit, but I started thinking; what does unavoidable mean? He could have said, people came in from out of town; forgot the kid had a game; I’ve got the flu. He could have even done what that idiotic wench Dawn Rossi did, saying she was surprised with tickets to a show at the last minute; but no not Mills, he says something unavoidable.

After a week, I can’t take it anymore, I‘ve got to know what was unavoidable. I decide to call his cell phone and asked him what happened. It was a shitty connection but I was pretty sure he said “me and the misses went out to Niagara, and won’t be back around for 36 hours.” That didn’t make any sense, why did he wait till the last minute to call me? Later that night I was watching TV when a commercial came on, and boom, I figured out what he said.

“Me and the misses tried out some Viagra, and it won’t go back down for 36 hours.”

A LITTLE THIS

I went over to watch the St. Paschal’s 8th grade basketball team play last Saturday morning. Chip Tighe and Tim Salcer are the coaches; and from time to time Chip gets upset with the CYO officiating. Now Tighe is a card carrying member of the Ohio High School Basketball Officials Association, so he is supposed to know the rules, but trust me, he’s absolutely clueless.

Anyhow, Chip thinks one of his players got fouled and starts screaming at the ref, and ultimately, proceeds to drop an F-bomb on the poor guy. The ref comes over to eject Chip from the game for using foul language; that’s when our little wussy boy Tighe tells the ref he didn’t say it; he points to Salcer and says “he yelled it.” So the ref tosses Tim out of the gym and makes him wait in the parking lot until the game is over. Now Salcer has to serve a three game suspension because of Tighe’s behavior. And I thought being his neighbor sucked.

Hey Chip go back and look at your manual, this is not a basketball hand signal.

A LITTLE THAT

You know what, speaking of Tim Salcer; the guy kind of irritates me. He’s one of those goody-two-shoes fellas, who’s always trying to do the right thing. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard the guy swear, which I should point out is tough to do when you have twenty-five 8th grade kids on a football field all screwing around at the same time. But that’s not what really bugs me about the guy. The fact that the guy doesn’t own a T-shirt that he hasn’t cut the sleeves off, which he obviously does so he can walk around flexing for people all day, doesn’t bother me either. When he moved into his new 5 bedroom, 3,500 square foot home, this dick sent out those “I’ve Moved” postcards with a picture of him standing in front the place. It didn’t even bother me when I read the back of the post card saying that he registered at Crate and Barrel for anyone who would like to get him a house warming gift; what a d-bag.

I can deal with all that shit, but here’s what bugs me; I coached football at Paschal’s for 4 years, and the worst part about it was having to wait around every night for the parents to pick up their kids. However, my last year of coaching was Tim’s first year, and guess what? We never had to wait around for parents to pick up their kids, because once Salcer started coaching, all of the mom’s dropped off their kids, and oddly enough, decided to stay and watch the entire practice. Now the guy is like 28 years old, has little to no body fat, is somewhat attractive in an ugly sort of way, and has probably spent about $40,000 on his teeth. But let’s face it people, he’s still no Marty Lynch, and the fact that these old biddy’s overlooked a stud like me for a guy like Tim, who I should point out, is incapable of loving anyone other than himself, pisses me off.

So let me give you ladies a tip; a tip that Tim, the “self” proclaimed charming, eligible bachelor, appears to be far too kind to tell all of you old broads. A tip, which would be pretty damn obvious to you saggy breasted hags if you weren’t so damn delusional; he’s not looking for some 45 year old wrinkled-ass married woman who has to put 8 pounds of make up on just to look presentable. So unless you got it like Terry Hatcher’s got it, or like Courtney Cox got it, you better wake up and realize you ain’t in Cougar Town.

I’m not sure what all the fuss is about, I mean come on; Salcer ain’t got it like the King Pin got it. Hell, he should have been in the celebrity look-a-like blog.

By the way, Tim asked if I would be willing to link a couple of his YouTube dance videos on this blog. I was more than happy to honor his request. By the way, I’m sure some of your kids who played for him will enjoy these too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-jVMDLIB0o

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lN0gKTiWvQ&NR=1

A LITTLE THIS

Brian Kane can’t wait to go back on the Booze Cruise this year. Not simply because he does nothing but eat, drink and gamble all day, but rather, he enjoys making new friends. Brian must be a real guy’s guy because all the fella’s wanted to hang out with him by the pool. I suggest that those of you who haven’t signed up yet, get moving because you’re running out of time; and it is a great time!

Brian says that when he smothers his face in this area for 2 or 3 minutes, he can’t help but make new guy friends.

A LITTLE THAT

I hate beating a dead horse, but my god this Dick Dongo may be the dumbest person on the entire planet, if not the universe. I was talking to him about the earthquake in Haiti when he says that I should start texting some 90999 number because each time I do it the cellular company donates $10 to the relief effort. He then tells me he’s done it tons of times. I said to him, “you realize that the cellular company isn’t donating that money, you are.” He says “what are you talking about.” So I explain to him that each time he text’s that number, his cellular account is charged $10. You should have seen the look on his face when he said “you’re bullshitting me, right?” He obviously thinks I’m kidding, so I suggest he pick up the phone right now and call the cell company and find out what his current account balance is. I almost, that’s right, I almost felt bad for the guy when I heard him scream into the phone, $47,000…..$47,000…you’re out of your mind, I’m not paying you $47,000. I’m not sure what he’s going to do to get out of paying that bill, and quite frankly, I don’t care. Perhaps this is just what he needed to finally pull his head out of his ass and start paying attention to shit.

Yo Dickie D, this is no way to go through life.

With all my love,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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January 17, 2010 Recap

2010-01-22T12:39:00.006-05:00

I’m in a pretty good mood, so I’m going to pass on putting TJ Sell on the Lady Bug List all by himself this week. This is pretty damn kind of me considering that his wife spent the entire night spanking that little sissy’s ass by 40 some pins. Now had Dave Miller not beaten his wife by one measly pin, I could have given Sell some company on the list, but I just don’t have the heart to single a guy out like that.

I wonder if Jane ever gets tired of this.

Not much went on last week, aside from Tom Rudibaugh celebrating his 90th birthday, making him the oldest current My Bowling Leaguer. Unfortunately, no one was aware that Regan McKinley also celebrated her birthday that night. The reason why no one knew is because Jane Jetson bought one of those big ass chocolate cakes from Costco, and passed it around to everyone.

Liz Rudibaugh showing Tom which direction to blow.

Ryan McKinley on the other hand, didn’t do dick for his wife. Now mind you, the guy hasn’t been married a year yet, and he’s already forgetting important shit. If this boy doesn’t see the light quickly, then I’m giving those nuptials two years tops, and I’m being generous.

Hey Ryan, just so you know, no one has ever gotten laid while in the dog house. Wise up pal!

Linda Carney edged out Edie Mellen for the honor of being this week’s King. Ironically, she did it by being 16 pins over average, and while drinking 16 Miller Lites; which I should point out, is only 2 beers over her average. Needless to say, Dee Dee Bondra will have to relinquish the sausage for the time being.

It looks like Linda “Martina” Carney may be back on the steroids.

Once again, Bill Weil is this week’s Queen. There wasn’t one guy even close to being as piss poor as Bill last week. In his defense, this week’s 18 pins under average wasn’t nearly as bad as his previous weeks 38 pin under average. Who knows, maybe Bill is slowly morphing into a guy.

Perhaps Bill Weil is beginning to make the transition back to manhood, but clearly, he’s not there yet.

I may be over looking a few things, but I’m sure I’ll be able to catch up next week.

Affectionately Yours,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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A Little Wife Swapping

2010-01-15T08:23:00.007-05:00

Bowling Family Wanted for Wife Swap

I received this information yesterday and figured that I’d share it with the members of “My Bowling League.”

My name is Jeff Eggleston and I am a Casting Producer for ABC families hit reality show 'Wife Swap.' We are currently casting for our fifth season and we are looking for Bowling Families! (Ones that bowl together, or participate in competitive leagues, or families that own and/or operate a bowling ally)

The premise of Wife Swap is simple: for seven days, two wives from two different families with very different values exchange husbands, children and lives (but not bedrooms) to discover what it's like to live a different family's life. It's an interesting social experiment and a great way to see your family in a whole new light. It is shot as a documentary series, so NO scripts and no set. It's just one camera that is documenting your life.

Families that appear on the show will receive a financial honorarium of $20,000 for lost wages, time and commitment. And if you refer a family that appears on the show you would receive $1,000.

Here at 'Wife Swap' we look for a two-parent home with at least one child between the ages of 6 and 17 living at home full time.

If you are interested, please email me your contact information and tell me a little about your family and how the sport of bowling plays a roll in your lives. Or if you would like to refer a family, please email me their contact information and I will be in touch.

Thank you!

Jeff Eggleston

Casting Producer
RDF USA
100 6th Ave.3rd Floor, Suite 3 - 29
New York , NY 10013
tel: 646-747-7946

casting.jeff@gmail.com
http://www.rdfusa.com/shows.php
http://abc.go.com/primetime/wifeswap

Now as you can imagine, this got Ole Martin V a-thinking. Maybe we should do a little My Bowling League wife swapping of our own. I know for sure that there are at least a few of you wives who would be thrilled to unload your husband’s for a week; and it’s just possible that a few of you fella’s would kill for a chance to ditch your little beast of burden for even one day, let alone seven.

I pulled out the roster and started looking at some possible wife swaps that I could make, and I have to tell you, I’m having trouble getting the perfect match. Not to brag, but the problem isn’t with whom to place The King Pin; I mean for gods sakes I’m certain that any one of you chicks would be ecstatic to spend a week with me. The roadblock is the lovely Mrs. Lynch. Let’s face it; she’s no day at the beach. Now she may come across as being harmless, but remember I set this league up three years ago just to find her one friend, so that I wouldn’t have to spend as much time with her. And guess what? She still hasn’t found a friend, what’s that tell you?

The lovely Mrs. Lynch on day one of wife swap

I’ll tell you exactly what would happen; on day one you will think you died and went to heaven. You will quickly realize that Sue is a bright, beautiful, and hilariously funny lady, and you’ll be trying to figure out a way to make the switch permanent. However, by the end of day two, I absolutely guarantee, you’ll be begging the Lord to save you from this living hell.

The lovely Mrs. Lynch on day two of wife swap

Here are but a few of the things you will learn. You will have to get up at 5:30 to put her coffee on because she won’t let you set the coffee timer the night before, just in case there’s a power outage. After the kids are out the door you can then start working the chores off the four page list she has put together for you. You’re not allowed to have the remote control, and you can’t sit on the couch if she’s already on it because she won’t be able to lie down.

The lovely Mrs. Lynch watching Real Housewives of Somewhere

There’s not even the slightest chance she’ll pick a kid up or drop a kid off that will solely be your job. You have to answer every phone call and bring her the handset, or make up a believable excuse so she doesn’t have to take the call. When you take a shower, she will turn the kitchen faucet on and off because for some reason those two water lines are together and she knows it will ruin the only chance you have to relax.

Everyone in the house is subject to Sue’s freezing/burning shower treatment

She will send you to the grocery store for one thing that you probably won’t even need that day. Then, as you lie your head down and begin to doze off, she will sneak up behind you and scream your name directly in your ear. Your eyes will jump wide open, your body will lunge forward, your heart will skip beats, and you’ll be panting like a dog. The lovely Mrs. Lynch will smile and say; “oh I thought you were awake,” then she’ll chuckle and wait for you to start dozing again.

The lovely Mrs. Lynch gently waking Ole Martin V from his 3 second nap

So let me just say this fella’s, I’ll swap with any and all of you, any time, but just remember, in My Bowling League, there are no backs, no Indian giving, none of that bullshit, all sales are final boys.

Oh, and by the way, I’m pretty sure that by now we all know the deal; but I’ll remind you nonetheless. The lovely Mrs. Lynch is not on the distribution list and won’t know anything about this posting, and you’ll not breathe a word of it.

See you on the trading block,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Mr. Know It All

2010-01-14T09:51:00.013-05:00

I have found myself in the car quite a bit this week, and with that, I’ve spent a lot of time listening to Mike Trivisonno on the radio. Now I’ve listened to this guy for however long he’s been doing his talk show, and I must have called him a big, fat, stupid dago a million times; but that’s only because he is. But lately, I have to tell you, he’s making a ton of sense to me. So I’ve been struggling to figure out if that makes me dumb, or does that simply make him, not as dumb as I thought?

Then yesterday, after he got done belittling some whiney, bleeding heart liberal, and bitch slapping some 80 year old lady, (both calls which I really enjoyed), he blurted something out that I wasn’t ready for. This Brush High School grease-ball, 10th grade drop-out said he was making $1.2 million a year. You heard me, $1.2 million, and all I could think was you gotta be kidding me. After I got done shaking my head, I realized the answer to my question was simple, yes that makes me dumb, and yes, he’s way smarter than I thought.

Trivisonno in the 10th grade, consuming 1.2 million calories per semester; and Trivisonno now, earning 1.2 million dollars per year....you gotta be kidding me.
.

It gets worse as I keep listening. He’s got strippers calling him on the phone wanting to hook up with him. He’s telling them to go to his website and post their big old boobies on-line and he’ll decide if they're worthy of his attention or not. It’s now that I realize, that not only am I dumb, but I am a complete and total over educated, under achieving, jerk-off loser too. I kicked the “Strippers” out of our bowling league because they failed to show up a couple of times; and this mullet wearing bastard has got them beating his door down so they can say “I met Mike Trivisonno.” So I immediately do what every other red-blooded Cleveland guy would do, I go to the WTAM website and try to check out these broads. And finally, finally, I felt a little better. While Trivisonno definitely has more strippers, pound for pound “My Bowling League” has way, way more talent.

A representative sampling of Trivisonno's Stripper's

The Ladies of "My Bowling League" matched up pound for pound against Trivisonno's harem....maybe I'm not as big a loser as I thought.

Anyhow, I’m told that every story, to be worthwhile, should have some kind of religious or spiritual moral to it. So here’s the one that I think we can all clearly take away from this. (granted, it’s a bit of a stretch, but what the hell) We have dozens of I-talians in this league, some short, some fat, some dumb, some illiterate, and some are all of the above; but I’m told, none of you guys are cheap. But the only way for us to find that out for sure, is if you guys start buying me beers. So unless you stingy bastards want me to start naming names, perhaps you should belly up to the bar and drop off a Bud Lite on your way back to the lanes.

Salute, or whatever it is you guys say,

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

***P.S. - Please consider making a donation to the Linda Trivisonno Endowment Fund at the link posted below:...your contribution won't bring her back, but it may keep your loved ones with you a while longer!

https://www.uhgiving.org/SSLPage.aspx?pid=872

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December 20, 2009 Recap

2010-01-06T11:29:00.004-05:00

How about that? Everyone showed up to bowl on December 20, 2009. Not only that, but every team had a nice little Christmas gift that they wanted me to have as a token of their appreciation for all that The King Pin does for them. However, it does appear that each and every team was so eager to get to bowling that they all forgot to actually bring those gifts with them.

Anyhow, I had a chance to say hello to everyone at the lanes, with the one exception being, Tony Bondra. As I went through the bowling scores for that evening, I began to sense that perhaps Tony was intentionally avoiding me. My reasoning is that it turns out that we only have two Lady Bugs this week; Bill (Al Roker) Davis, and Tony Bondra. I can certainly understand Bill having an off night; I mean let’s face it, his arm was sore after signing all those autographs.

Looks like Bill Davis is signing someone’s bowling score sheet

I’m not sure why Tony couldn’t hit his average in any of the three games he bowled that night; but what I do know is that his wife Dee Dee absolutely crushed the poor bastard. Not only did she beat his ass into Lady Bugdom, she also bowled her way to being this week’s My Bowling League King. Dee Dee was a blistering 26 pins over average and gets to play with the sausage until some other manly ma’am is able to pry it away.

Many people have told me that Dee Dee and Tony are a great couple, and that they are perfect for each other. I’ve heard that they know each other so well that they can finish each other’s sentence. Sherry Tighe even went as far as saying “they are both such wonderful people, that when I think of Dee Dee I can’t help but think of Tony and vise versa. In fact, I refer to them as one person, and call them D.D.T.”

I’m guessing this is how Sherry pictures D.D.T. I contend this is what happens when you inhale too much DDT.

Getting back to manly, Maddie Klingman has had the sausage for well over a month, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Mrs. Bondra to lay a little disinfectant on that fella. Another manly performance was turned in by our new face of the league Jane Jetson-Rudibaugh who was 22 pins over average. I’m not gonna say Liz’s scores were cosmic, or out of this world, because that’s what any one of you losers would probably come up with. Rather, I would just like to offer a warning to Tom Rudibaugh to watch out because if his wife keeps improving like this sooner or later, she gonna be shoving her Venus up Uranus.

You didn't actually think I would put a picture of that did you?

This would bring us to something we haven’t discussed yet this year; The Queen. I admit that I am surprised that none of you dudes have mentioned this to me. Perhaps if you guys weren’t bowling like gals I would have heard something by now. Anyhow, this week’s winner of the My Bowling League Queens crown goes to a familiar girly-man from last year, Bill Weil. Congratulations sweetie, your 38 pins under average was the most pitiful performance turned in by a “male” bowler this year.

Bill was actually eager to pose for this photo.

With love oozing out of me,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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A Little This, A Little That

2010-01-04T20:57:00.022-05:00

A LITTLE THIS

Let’s clear something up real quick, when I tell you that I’ve taken my wife off of the blog distribution list and that you’re not suppose to say a word to her about anything in the blog; that means that Hope Reimer should keep her extremely large mouth shut.

I put together a small, last minute Martin V. Invitational New Years Eve party at the home of Dick Dongo and his wife Susanna Longo. The only reason Hope even got an invite at all is because my wife said I couldn’t just invite Mike Reimer and not his wife. Anyhow, Hope tells the lovely Mrs. Lynch that she read the blog and that I was mean to Dave and Mimi Miller simply because I resolved that they should get a personality or something like that.

Listen closely people, the reason why Sue is no longer on the distribution list is clear; I don’t want to hear her bitching, nor do I want her editing my content and telling me who I have to apologize to. If I start apologizing to the Miller’s, then I have to apologize to the Brown’s, then the Bondra’s, and everybody else, and I’m not doing it.

Instead, let’s do this; I apologize to everyone for anything that has ever been said in the past and for everything that I may say in the future. We good now? Furthermore, I’m pretty sure that I have stated on more than one occasion, if you don’t want to be identified in the blog, just let me know. It can’t get any more simple than that.

The invited Reimer, (left) and his blabber mouth wife.

A LITTLE THAT

Speaking of the Mr.Dongo/Mrs. Longo gathering, let me just say that it was yet another Ole Martin V successful event. I convinced Susanna that she shouldn’t go to any trouble cooking up any of those spicy Italian dishes of hers, and instead, have the evening catered. This thankfully meant that no one’s a-hole would be on fire on January 1st. Nonetheless, it was a sweet spread, and everything was great! The only complaint that anyone had was, that come mid-night, the pervert Terry Wise tried to slip everyone’s wife the tongue and it kind of grossed the ladies out. Now, this obviously had to be a small gathering, in fact, a very small gathering because I could only invite people that Dongo hadn’t pissed off in the last year or so. At this rate, I’m gonna guess that if I don’t step in and do something this party will be even smaller next year.

So this is what The King Pin has decided to do in an attempt to reduce the fall out and “possibly” increase the size of next year’s Dongo/Longo party. On January 17, 2010, My Bowling League will be holding a Nick/Dick Longo/Dongo Trivia Night. For those of you who actually read the emails over the last couple of years, my guess is you’ll do well. Dickie Dongo himself will be passing out Freeway Lanes bar gift certificates to the lucky winners.

For some reason Terry Wise creeped the ladies out a little bit.

A LITTLE THIS

Chip Tighe did it again. I told him that my snow plow guy wouldn’t have his truck ready for another week. Which I guess is the same thing as saying, “hey Chip why don’t you steal my snow shovel so that I have to use my 6” kitchen broom to sweep the 9” of snow off my driveway?” This time Tighe made a mistake. Jamie Pilla pulled by Chip’s house in, I believe his December, though possibly his January Mercedes, just as Tighe finished clearing his drive. That asshole Chip just couldn’t contain his glee over his recent act of coveting thy neighbor’s goods, and he told Pilla everything; beginning with how he came over my house last week to drop off some of his cheap, nasty smelling, shitty home-made wine; and then how he snuck into the garage, unlocked the garage window, and put the shovel right next to it; only to come back in the dead of night to snatch it.

Now if you’ve met Jamie, you surely know that he can be an even bigger asshole than Chip; but to be fair, probably no bigger an ass than say 95% of the members of My Bowling League. Nevertheless, Pilla had one of those rare, though perfectly timed, acts of kindness, as he called his snow plow guy and sent him over to my house to clear my driveway. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to canonize Pilla, and I realize what Jamie should have done was bought me a brand new John Deere 400 horsepower sit-down riding mower with the easy lift snow plow attachment, but after all, that may have made Pilla something other than an asshole, and God forbid, jeopardize that hard earned reputation of his.

And Tighe thinks this is funny.

A LITTLE THAT

I’m looking for volunteers who want to participate in this year’s Cleveland St. Patrick’s Day Parade on March 17, 2010. My Bowling League will have marchers in this year’s parade dressed handsomely as bowling pins. The lovely Mrs. Lynch will be volunteering to make the costumes, but I haven’t told her yet……………understand? I’m sure that some of you big spenders would like to help sponsor the My Bowling League hospitality suite at some downtown hotel. By the way, my brother-in-law Henry has volunteered to be either the 7 or 10 pin because he sees them all the time; and Dawn Rossi has begged, I mean begged me to allow her to be the head pin. I’d like to assure all of the ladies that Dawn has not been given that position and that I will be holding private auditions for that coveted spot. More details to follow.

You guys are gonna look great!

A LITTLE THIS

By the way, my son Tom went back to college this weekend. He goes to a school called St. Olaf in Northfield, Minnesota. Sue and I knew it was minus 36 degrees there and we gladly put him on a plane and sent him back; then we laughed and we laughed and we laughed. We’re still trying to figure out if we laughed because he’s a thoughtless shitty kid and deserves to freeze his ass off, or if we’re thoughtless shitty parents and that’s just what thoughtless shitty parents do. Either way, I don’t care, it’s already more peaceful around here.

I'm wondering if we should call to see if he made it back.

A LITTLE THAT

One last thing, if you butt heads think that I have time on my hands, check this out. There are a couple of guys who have, what I guess you’d call, legitimate bowling blogs. They actually talk about bowling stuff, they offer pointers on how to select a bowling ball or a pair of shoes, and these dudes are writing and linking all kinds of shit every day. Now I don’t know if that is of any interest to you folks but I put the links right above Ole Martin V’s Daily Words of Wisdom. And for all you people who spend your day on Facebook playing FarmVille or Bejeweled, I have kindly given you a link to some on-line bowling games. Perhaps this will break up the monotony of Mafia Wars or Café World. As usual, here we have The King Pin once again trying to make your pathetic lives just a little more enjoyable.

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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Some New Year's Resolutions.......For You.

2009-12-29T15:26:00.008-05:00

As your trusted King Pin, I would like to wish everyone a joyous and prosperous New Year, and state emphatically that I pray for nothing but the very best for each and every one of you. (you can choose to believe that if you wish) As I reflect on the happenings of 2009, the inauguration of Barak Obama leaps out at me. As we all know, elections have consequences; some are coincidental, and some, well maybe not so much. For example the four teams that “chose” (wink, wink) not to return, all happened to be ardent and vocal supporters of our new president. Coincidence?

Anyhow, as it appears that our president, a.k.a., Bo Rock Yo Momma knows what’s best for us; I began to realize that I too, know what’s best for you guys. So with that in mind, I have decided that I will not be asking any of you what your New Year’s resolution is; oh contraire, I will be telling you what your resolution will be. Furthermore, your future/continuous membership in My Bowling League will depend on your successful adherence to whatever I have decided is best for you. Should your name not appear on this random listing, you are either an afterthought, or I’ve already decided to get rid of you next season.

Therefore:

Abigail Sirselle resolves to stop shaving Jim Sirselle’s balls every week, and Jim Sirselle resolves not to shave Abigail’s mustache every day.

Andy Mellen resolves to work at least one full 8 hour day this year. Which means he’s going to have to stop working for Cuyahoga County and get a private sector job. Art teacher Edie Mellen resolves to teach just one Euclid High School student, just one thing, that they could actually use on a 10th grade proficiency exam.

Bill Weil resolves to never lose a single game of bowling to his mother-in-law, let alone be so pitiful as to lose 3 games in one night. Likewise, Beth DeBaggis resolves to never say to her daughter Heather how disappointed she is that she has such a pussy for a son-in-law.

Mark Byrne resolves to wear a ballerina dress to bowling so that he looks more natural when he releases the ball. To put Byrnes at ease, Terry Wise resolves not to arouse himself by looking up Mark’s dress.

Sue Lynch resolves not to cut people off on the highway, and Andrew Ryzner, Greg Cira, Tom Rudibaugh, Tony Bondra, Dale Politi, Greg Ferrazza, and Jim Klingman resolve not to call me to inform me what a shitty driver my wife is.

Jennifer Cira resolves to wear that special bra that her husband Greg got her for Valentine’s Day, so that her A-cupper’s can be transformed into what appear to be C-cupper’s; and Cindy Lembach resolves to pretend to be impressed by Jennifer’s new found cleavage.

Mayor Scott Coleman resolves to call the Regional Income Tax Authority and have them forgive the $579.83 that I now owe them because he thought raising local income taxes was a great idea. Councilman Scott Mills resolves to begin accepting bribes like every other decent politician in Cuyahoga County does.

Kate Gavin resolves to bring George Costanza with her to bowling because he always had the decency to buy me a beer, and she has yet to show that same generosity.

Carla Bondra resolves to teach George Argie how to talk more, and George Argie resolves to teach Carla Bondra how to talk less; and each and every one of us resolve to pray that George is more successful.

Dee Dee Bondra resolves to get her team to show up every week to bowl, and I resolve to keep giving Dee Dee shit even if she gets her team shows up every week to bowl.

Chip Tighe resolves not to lurk around my house trying to catch a peek of my wife getting out of the shower and into her underwear, and I resolve to never again say Sue is taking a shower when Chip asks me what my wife is doing.

Maria Gaeta resolves to return the naming rights to the Sausage, along with the actual hardware; and Phil Gaeta resolves to concentrate a little more so that perhaps his “software” might be mistaken for hardware by his wife.

Bill Davis resolves to either sell at least one insurance policy this year, or learn how to stand out in the cold and deliver a weather report. Michelle Davis resolves to get used to Bill not being around the house at 6 and 11pm week nights.

Sue Wise resolves to stop talking as though she’s being paid for every syllable she utters. Similarly, Mike Reimer resolves to be udder-less by the end of 2010.

Brian Kane resolves to get is doctors license so that after 18 years of avoiding apprehension, he can finally practice his profession of optometry legally. Cristen Kane resolves to go on-line and obtain a bogus doctors license so that after 18 years avoiding apprehension, her husband can sort of practice his profession of optometry legally.

Linda Carney resolves to hold all of her family reunions at a local chapter AA meeting, so that all the Carney’s can kill two birds with one stone.

Dick Dongo resolves to change his reputation so that each time his name is spoken; the first response won’t be “what did the asshole do this time.” Likewise, Susanna Longo resolves to only make food that when eaten, my asshole’s first response won’t be “what the hell did she put in that shit.”

Natalie Treibatch resolves to agree to DNA testing once her baby is born; so that the rumors that it’s not her husband Irving’s kid will be put to bed quickly; or perhaps confirmed expeditiously.

Jennifer Creech resolves to stop using her husband’s jock itch, even though he has no use for it, and Matt Creech resolves to stop using his wife’s eyeliner even though the color is much better on him.

Ann Marie Mills and Martha Coleman resolve to stop making excuses for their dumb ass husbands every time they do something stupid at a city council meeting. Which I’m pretty sure would be every meeting.

Sherry Tighe resolves to stop asking The King Pin to come over and render his opinion every time she buys a new pair of thong panties; and The King Pin resolves to continue to claim it happens at least twice a month.

Dave Miller resolves to come up with a personality this year. He then resolves to give half of that personality to his wife Mimi. This way, by the end of the year, both of them will at least have some personality.

Katy Profeta resolves to say at least one kind thing about her husband this year. Mike Profeta resolves not to hold his breath waiting for that to happen.

TJ Sell resolves to leave our waitress Michelle a tip this year. Michelle the waitress resolves to pull a Mike Profeta and not hold her breath waiting for that to happen.

Karen Politi resolves to no longer put marijuana in any of her baking that she brings to bowling. Drinking 14 beers in 3 hours makes driving home tough enough for me as is.

Chiropractor extraordinaire John Bondra resolves not to make every female patient completely disrobe so that he can simply examine her neck. Furthermore, foot doctor Chip Tighe resolves to stop offering free pelvic exams to his 80 year old Medicare patients.

Brian Himmel resolves to let his wife Melissa know that if Tiger can step out on his hot wife like Elin, there’s no reason he can’t step out on her. Oddly enough, Melissa resolves to tell Brian if Lorena Bobbitt can whack off her husband’s dick, there’s no reason she can’t whack off his.

Susan Ferrazza resolves to continue to wear those really big glasses so that no one confuses her with Gabrielle Argie; and Gabrielle Argie resolves to pretend to be intelligent, so that no one confuses her with Susan Ferrazza.

Jane Sell and Maddie Klingman resolve to make certain that at least one week this season neither of their husbands will be on the Lady Bug List. I resolve that the earth will explode before that happens.

Mike Richuisa resolves to change his name so that it doesn’t get spelled wrong on the monitor, or he can simply resolve to stop bitching that his name is spelled wrong on the monitor. Either of those two options would be fine.

Ron Szuch resolves to make me take my family to one of his Florida condos. I resolve to accept his offer but instead raffle the condo off at the bowling banquet, which he’ll probably be too busy to attend.

Dawn Rossi resolves to let me pimp her out as an auction item at the bowling banquet. Greg Cira resolves to start the bidding at $3. I resolve to hold out until we get at least $4.

PJ Buynack resolves to contact each and every one of you trying to sell you one of the three remaining cruise cabins so that we can get to the number necessary for free booze. I resolve to speak highly of the three people who purchase those cabins, or better yet, not speak of them at all.

Yo Yo Naymick resolves to stop telling her fiancé Andrew Ryzner that he drinks too much; and Andrew resolves not drink more than a case of beer per day, give or take a twelve pack.

Amy Byrne resolves not to poison her husband Mark’s food in an attempt to collect on his insurance policy. You know what, let’s change that. Amy Byrne resolves to buy a large life insurance policy from Bill Davis, and then resolves to poison her husband.

Ryan McKinley resolves to stop wearing those T-shirts that are disparaging to minorities, on the outside chance that Edie Mellen wasn’t their teacher and they can actually read them. Regan McKinley resolves to stop buying her husband T-shirts that are disparaging to minorities even though she gets to use her 50% Klan discount on them.

Kathleen Getty and Liz Rudibaugh resolve to swap husbands every other Sunday night so that Patrick Getty doesn’t end up on the Lady Bug List. Both women also resolve not to “put out” for the other’s husband. Kathleen Getty will quickly break that resolution with Mr. Rudibaugh in the unmanned snack bar at Freeway Lanes.

Tina Brown resolves to at least try not to hate her husband. Mike Brown resolves to make Tina’s resolution impossible to carry out.

And most importantly, this year, I resolve to publish the book My Bowling League, Season One. And each of you will resolve to pay the $14.95 cover price the minute that book becomes available.

I’ll let you know when it’s time to bowl; because that's what I do.

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Celebrity Look a Likes Phase 3

2009-12-22T09:00:00.009-05:00

Well, the meddler is back. Last week, the lovely Mrs. Lynch told me that it’s possible that some of the pictures I post and the captions I use might hurt people’s feelings. So before I get too far into this, I’d like to put that notion to rest by publishing a photo with a caption showing that I am more than capable of coming to the defense of any past or present member of My Bowling League.

This is NOT, I repeat, this is NOT Mike Brown
Serenading Neil Gavin

My beautiful bride of 21 years also said that I should just pick a man and a woman who look like somebody and make them the celebrity look-a-likes for My Bowling League, and be done with this weekly thing. So I’ll do exactly what the typical person saddled with an extremely high I.Q. would do, that being, precisely what she told me to do.

Unfortunately, since the meddler gave me those instructions, no one has really jumped out at me; but there are a couple of league members I feel are worth looking into. For example, it may be possible to make a case for both George Argie and Liz Rudibaugh being celebrity look-a-likes. I'm not saying that these are strong cases, but keep in mind; I can only work with what I got.

So, because I couldn’t come up with stronger resemblances elsewhere, these two will be the league's leading man and leading lady. Trust me, I'm not thrilled to make either of these two the "face" of the league, but in the end it could actually be an upgrade. After all, while George Argie doesn't strike anyone, and I mean anyone, as a genius, he’s nowhere near as dense as anyone from our neighboring dumb, fat and happy, ass-backwards St. Greg’s league; whom I should point out are lovely people, keeping in mind, most hillbillies are lovely, in a stupid sort of lazy way.

I'm just now realizing the enormity of George Argie's skull; or could it be that Andy Dick just has a good old fashioned peanut head ?

The obvious drawback with George is that he’s not quite as boisterous as Andy Dick, and for the thing to work he’s going to have to actually speak. I’m not worried about him having to say anything funny right away; we’ll take baby steps with him. I don’t want to make myself out to be a great acting coach, but I’m confident that by the end of the season I can get George to tell a pretty decent knock-knock joke.

As for Liz Rudibaugh, well, I never really cared for people who struggle to break 100, and then feel perfectly comfortable blaming the ball, or the lane, or the damn room temperature for their keggling ineptitude. Now, while she’s a bit of a sour puss, and a tad stand-offish, I can personally vouch for her being very, well let’s make that somewhat, well actually, she’s just marginally friendly.

Liz Rudibaugh and the ageless Jane Jetson both go through three cans of Aquanet hair spray every morning.

As you can see, the problem here is that Liz already looks older than Mrs. Jetson. And although she may be able to pull off this ruse for a year, perhaps two, after that, there won’t enough botox on the planet to keep her face as smooth as Jane Jetson’s.

Alright people, it’s time for me to go, I’m happy to report that I’ve made plenty of new friends this year. You can expect to hear from me again, if for no other reason, than to offer you Mensa members your weekly reminder to show up to bowl on the proper Sunday.

And by the way, I don’t care what the meddler says; she ain’t the boss of me and I ain’t afraid of her. So if I find more celebrity look-a-likes I’m blogging them. But keep in mind, I’ve removed the lovely Mrs. Lynch from the blog notification list, so if it’s all the same to you, let’s just keep this last paragraph between us.

With sugar plums dancing in my head,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Bowling Recap from 12-6-09

2009-12-17T09:16:00.006-05:00

Let’s go over a couple of highlights from the most recent night of bowling. Many of you wisely took advantage of the opportunity to buy The King Pin a beer last week, and as it turned out every team that told the waitress “yes I’d love to buy The King Pin a beer’” ended up winning a $10 bar certificate. Now there was a team headed by Linda Carney and PJ Buynack that asked the waitress to tell me to “pound salt.” I’m not exactly certain what that means, but I do know that it doesn’t mean yes, get the man a beer. Oddly enough, they were the only participants who did not get a gift certificate. A coincidence perhaps, but more likely, perhaps not.

If Linda and PJ were just a little more charitable
those beers wouldn’t have cost them a penny

I’d like to recognize Audrey Cercelle for adhering to the Dee Dee Bondra Rule, even before she knew it was a rule. Audrey was the only one on her team able to make it, so did she call me at the last minute asking me to bail her out? No, she wisely found three of her bimbo friends and brought them with her. That people, is how you handle shit like that. Speaking of these bimbo’s, Mark Byrne asked me if these girls were the replacements for the “Strippers.” The answer is a resounding no; I intend to step things up and replace the Strippers with a group that will be referred to as the Hooker’s. Stay tuned for that one. By the way, out of respect for Mark’s courage to seek public office, we will no longer refer to him as the “the dog trainer,” so going forward he shall bear the title of what seemingly cost him the election, “the sheep herder.”

Abigail Sirselle (left) and her bimbo friends
Marie Curtis, Cheryl Delisio, and Ann Cappello
and no, these are not replacements for the Stripper’s

Let’s talk Sausage. Sherry Tighe came very close to swinging the meat this week, and had she just been at her average in the third game I’d be strapping the sausage on her right now. But since she didn’t, Maddie Klingman gets to keep the beef for a while. Maddie crushed her average by 19 pins per game and therefore, gets to keep using the urinal in the men’s room. If she does it again, I’m going to get her a My Bowling League jock strap, a 16 pounder of course.

Maddie Klingman (center) continues to be head and

shoulders above the rest of the ladies in the league

I believe that brings us to the Lady Bug List; yet I’m really not sure how to approach this. In the past I’ve listed people in order by how badly their wife beat them. This time I’m going to use total pins so that we all know just how poorly you fella’s did. The manliest of our Lady Bugs is, surprisingly, Patrick Getty, followed by repeat performer’s TJ Sell and Jim Klingman. That leads us to the Lady Bug with this week’s biggest vajayjay, Dave Miller, who spent all night mustering up a scrotumless 290 pins. Now Dave Miller is a pretty common name, so I have placed his actual league photo below, just so that you don’t confuse him with some other Dave Miller you might know.

Dave Miller of “The Eliminators”

shown from the waist up because

he’s got nothing from the waist down

Now I’ve never done this before and I don’t like doing this now, but it just makes sense to reuse this photo.

Maddie Klingman (center) and this week’s collection of Lady Bugs

Fondly,

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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Tiger's Wood

2009-12-15T13:05:00.017-05:00

I must admit that this whole (also pronounced hole and/or ho) Tiger Woods thing has now got me more than a tad confused. Not because it’s hard to understand why he would leave an already bought and paid for hot blonde at home, and then head out and bang a bunch of skanks, that in one way shape or form, are gonna cost him money. There could be hundreds of reason why she “drove” him away. Perhaps she’s a flat out bitch, maybe she has a perpetual headache, who knows, it might even be the result of nasty lady hygiene. That shit isn’t perplexing, hell, Jennifer Aniston is way hot and has tons of cash; most guys would kill for a shot at that life. Yet, there have been a dozen guys, who for what ever reason, have decided they no longer wanted to nail her, and they dumped our girl Rachael Green and moved on to some other babe.

No, what’s got me confused is whether or not I should make Tiger my new idol. After all, what guy can have 15 hookers roll around on him in his own private orgy? And then do it every weekend; it’s hard to fault a guy for that. But the question remains, is it idol worthy? In a recent Tiger Woods discussion with the lovely Mrs. Lynch, I must admit that I bailed on Tiger as quick as I could. I found it advantageous to feign my disgust for such abhorrent behavior, all the while marveling at his antics and relishing the possibility. I will make another confession; I bail on every guy if it makes my wife think I’m a little less of a dick head than I truly am.

As you can see this month long scandal has taken its toll on Tiger

As many of you can imagine, living next to Chip Tighe is no picnic, but, truth be told, I get more action because of his poor actions, than I could ever have gotten on my own. When you couple that with Mike Reimer living three doors down, all of a sudden, Ole Martin V doesn’t look so bad. Not a day goes by that I don’t tell my wife how lucky she is not to be married to one of those guys. I then proceed to tell her some stupid thing they did and point out that I would never have done that/said that/thought that, to or about my wife.

Ole Martin V can’t help but look good as

Mike Reimer and Chip watch Sherry and

Hope spruce up the Tighe back yard

What woman wouldn’t be happy to be

married to one of those two studs?

Okay, I regressed a little bit, back to should Tiger be my idol. As I piece things together, I realize that he isn’t doing anything that I couldn’t do given his situation, in fact, I’d do it better. Let’s face it, the guys got a billion dollars and the best he can do is marry a Swedish baby-sitter. He didn’t marry Ms. Sweden; he couldn’t even score Ms. Stockholm for god’s sake. Then I find out that his wife has a twin sister. I guarantee with that kind of dough, I’d have easily gotten a package deal. As for the 15 member orgy, that’s no big shake, I’d have bought 50. The most irritating thing about that is what kind of guy buys a dozen plus broads for the weekend and doesn’t bring a friend. What a selfish son of a bitch.

As for this crazy talk about him being a sex addict, well I’m not buying that either. If you’re an alcoholic, you’re not picky; you’ll drink any kind of liquor. If he were a sex addict, he’d let anybody gnaw on his bone. He wouldn’t restrict his “driver” to just Denise the waitress, a real addict would lay the wood on Dennis the bus boy too. And how come he never got around to popping a black chick? I’ll tell you why, it’s because not only is our fake sex addict a sexist, but he’s a racist bastard too.

I’ve had enough, the answer is clear, Tiger is not my idol. I’m sticking with Hugh Hefner. Hef does it right; he never has to leave the house because broads come to him for free. I should point out that these terribly hot babes of all racial and ethnic backgrounds are not six years younger than him, ala Tiger Woods; no these hotties are sixty years younger. And when have you ever heard of Hef not sharing his stable with the rest of the fella’s? You’ve never heard that because it’s never happened; Hugh is a Christian and doesn’t believe in greed, he’d rather spread things around to make other people’s lives just a little better. I’m now embarrassed that I even thought of making the switch to Tiger, and I vow never to even consider bailing on Hugh Hefner again, because he is a true American Idol.

I’m pretty sure a caption is unnecessary

Keeping it real,

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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CHIP TIGHE SAYS IT'S NOT EASY BEING TIGER

http://www.allleftturns.com/tasteless-yet-addictive-tiger-woods-game

Celebrity Look a Likes Phase 2

2009-12-14T09:03:00.009-05:00

Once I got past the Richuisa-Ripkin thing, my mind had to churn pretty hard to find my next possible pair of look-a-likes. I methodically went through every person on every team, over and over, yet no one jumped out at me. However, each time I thought about Bill Davis, the hapless insurance sales schmuck from the perennial bottom-feeding team “Blew Balls,” something pulled at me. Bill reminded me of someone, but I just couldn’t place it. This went on for days, then last Friday morning, I got up and was watching that Matt Lauer show and BOOM, wham, bam, thank you ma’am, it hit me. I was right; these two were dead ringers!

Bill Davis and his brother from another mother Al Roker

My jubilance faded quickly when I realized what I’m sure is obvious to all of you. I couldn’t use these two as my Hollywood celebrity look –a-likes because, as everyone knows, Al Roker is from New York, not Hollywood. It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyhow; Bill would never have been able to pull it off because he doesn’t know shit about doing the weather. Come to think of it, I’m not too sure Bill knows shit about insurance either. This Rhodes Scholar has been telling all of his customers not to renew their health insurance policy’s because Obama is going to give everyone health care coverage. I don’t have the heart to tell Billy Boy that he’ll be out of a job as soon as that happens. The good news for Davis is that not only will McDonald’s give him a free hat, but he’ll also get a complimentary Happy Meal at the end of his shift. Not to mention that his sales pitch will be much easier; I mean how tough is it to say, “you want fries with that?”

Anyhow, though devastated, I nonetheless realized that my search must continue, but first, I thought I should work on this weeks bowling recap blog. However, when I got to the part about the Lady Bugs, I saw a familiar name, Jim Klingman. Like Richuisa and Davis, Jim is a tad hairless. So I thought, what bald person does he look like? Mr. Clean, no Klingman could never be described as well kempt. Sinead O’Conner, no Klingman could never be described as thin. Bruce Willis, no Klingman could never be described as cool. I had to start focusing on bald guys who were bad dressers, were slightly to grossly overweight, and had trouble carrying on a conversation beyond the 6th grade level. My Google search with those parameters instantly came back with just two people; Jim Klingman, and Joe the Plumber.

Joe the Plumber's 15 minutes of fame are over

Jim Klingmans Lady Bug fame may go on forever

Yet here we are again, no Hollywood connection whatsoever, in fact both of these guys were born and raised in the great Buckeye state. That got me to thinking; have two Ohioan’s have ever starred in the same movie? I don’t think so, but if these two did star in a movie together, I wonder if they would call it Dumb and Plumber.

Obviously I’ve gotten a little side-tracked; it’s time to get to work on the bowling blog. You’ll be getting your reminder email soon telling you that we bowl this Sunday.

My search will continue,

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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Celebrity Bowler Spotlight

2009-12-08T20:45:00.041-05:00

You know what; after that whole Anna Nicole thing last week, I realized that something is very different this year from last year, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Then it dawned on me, I miss seeing Neil "George Costanza" Gavin every other Sunday night. Not because of the endless comic material he provided me with, well ok, that was a rather large part of it; but mostly because the league just isn’t the same without a celebrity. I lead a rather dismal life and seeing George kind of made me feel like I was important; like I was hob knobbing with the rich and famous; like I was running the bowling league to the stars. I know it wasn’t true, but it’s all I had going for me. Then, to make matters worse, we no longer have our animated look-a-likes, Shrek and Cruella. That leaves us high and dry with absolutely no Hollywood types left in this league. So with that in mind, I’m now on a hunt to find the next My Bowling League celebrity look-a-like.

Ole Martin V. discreetly looking
for stars on Malibu Beach

The strongest resemblance this league has is our own Mike Richuisa to baseball legend, Cal Ripkin Jr. The problem is Mike rarely bowls and Cal isn’t really a Hollywood type; and if you didn’t follow sports, you wouldn’t recognize Cal Ripkin anyhow. In fact, most people in our league wouldn’t know which is which. Plus, Mike is a Face Book friend of mine and I’ve read some of his posts, and quite frankly, he’s a little too queer for me. I don’t need our star giving everyone emotional support and volunteering his shoulder to lean on. When some dip shit broad posts “I’m having the worst day of my life :( ” my god it’s almost unbearable to read his sappy responses, “hang in there sweetie, it’ll get better :-)” or “is there anything I can do to help?” Geezus Krist, this silly bastard makes Tiny Tim look manly.

Mike Richuisa (left) looks good at his 64th birthday party
Cal Ripkin (right) well, he makes Richuisa look not so good

In the event that you see these two people in the same room at the same time, the easiest way to tell them apart is to remember that Cal Ripkin buys his suits in the men’s department, and Mike Richuisa buys his clothes, well, wherever they sell clothes for people who are 4’ 7” tall.

Cal Ripkin (top left) Mini-Me-Mike (bottom right)

Well, this is but the first installment of many celebrity spotlights we will be doing over the next several weeks. And odds are, by the end of the season, I'll find the perfect face to represent our league.

Hugs and Kisses,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Back to Bowling

2009-12-02T10:12:00.031-05:00

I want to take this opportunity to calm everyone’s fears; no one, and I mean no one, has ever crashed a My Bowling League function. We take the safety and security of our members very seriously. If your name does not appear on the screen when you show up; or if you can not find it in the system; or if the King Pin does not personally grant you permission to participate, then guess what……you don’t bowl. Not to brag, but clearly I had the foresight to anticipate every worst case scenario that could possibly jeopardize the well-being of our greatest resource; you, the people who provide me with my material.

Moving on, I would like to take a moment to cover a couple of things I learned at bowling last week. First, my new teammate Dawn Rossi sucks, and I’m not talking like she used to in the 9th grade, I’m talking bowling here. While Gabrielle Argie’s 51 still remains as the all-time shittiest score ever recording in the history of My Bowling League, Dawn’s 59 is this year’s most dismal showing. I could probably live with the shit score if Dawn simply didn’t talk nonstop. My god she couldn’t be any more annoying if she tried. When, of all people, Carla Bondra walked by and said, “holy shit that Rossi broad won’t shut up,” it became pretty clear that she talked way too god damn much. If you don’t know who I’m talking about; Dawn is the one who fancies herself as the next Anna Nicole Smith, only drunker.

Anna Nicole Smith, just a little tipsy

Dawna Nicole Rossi, just a little passed out

When my other lady teammate Sherry Tighe struck out in the 10th frame, and I saw the XXX on the scoreboard, I must confess, I did have a deja vu moment. Sub-conciously there's must have been a time or two that I've pictured the name Sherry Tighe XXX in bright flashing neon lights. Though, if my recollection is correct, those neon lights I pictured appeared on a theater marquee, and actually read Now Showing “My Naughty Neighbor Sheri XXX.” Anyhow, I don’t want to make myself sound like some creepy pervert who thinks about Sherry in porno movie’s, because I don't....... ;-)

The lovely Mrs. Lynch thought

it would behoove me to put no

photo here.

As promised, and thanks to Greg Cira, the Lady Bug List is back. For those who have forgotten how one makes it onto this list, the necessary criteria are clearly spelled out below:

1) Be a man…..correction, be a male member of the league. 2) Roll a series that is lower than the series of your legally wedded wife, or the person that you typically fornicate with. 3) Fail to buy me a beer….recent update, two beers that Sunday.

With that in mind, I’d like to welcome this weeks Four Lady Bugs.

TJ Sell, a regular on last year’s Lady Bug List, got as close to not being on this week’s list as ever before, as he rolled a 397 series to his wife Jane’s 398. I hated having to include him, but despite my tireless lobbying efforts, the Rules Committee wouldn’t budge; sorry Sell, I did my best.

Jim Klingman, TJ’s teammate and another regular Lady Bug from last year, got bent over by his wife in all three games. If he keeps this shit up the other chicks are gonna start inviting “him” to Tupperware and lingerie parties.

Fittingly, Greg Cira made this week’s list as well. I’m guessing that once he fully recovers from that damn near season ending cellophane injury, we won’t be seeing him, on the list again.

Greg Cira showing off his

surgically repaired finger.

Last on this week’s list is a newbie to the league; Matt Creech. His wife Jennifer gave him a thrashing that wasn’t pleasant to watch. Most of you folks have probably seen, but have yet to meet Matt. He’s the real pretty fella on Bill Weil’s team; and by pretty I mean, the kind of guy that the typical Mansfield prison inmate would get all giggly about. Here’s a little advise Matt; obey the law, and enjoy being on the Lady Bug list. It’s way better to be on this list, then to be on Bubba and Leroy’s list. Don’t take my word for it; just ask Andy Mellen, he’ll definitely confirm it.

This is how Matt looks on the Lady Bug List

This is how Matt looks on Leroy’s list

Since we’re bringing back the Lady Bugs, it seems only fitting that we bring back the Weekly Sausage as well. If you recall, at last years banquet Maria Gaeta won not only a living, breathing sausage, but more importantly, the right to finally give our sausage a name. At first she told me that she wanted to name the sausage Big Phil; I told her no, you can’t give the sausage your husband’s name. She quickly said she didn’t, and that she now refers to her husband as Little Phil. Nonetheless, I said no. I called her a month later to see if she came up with a new name; she was very excited and said “yes, I now call it My Pool Boy.” I told her that’s not a name that’s an occupation. She said I’m wrong because one week she called it my pool boy Fernando, then she called it my pool boy Hector, then she went with my pool boy Biff. Maria began to giggle, and blush with a bit of embarrassment as she whispered; “now I call him my pool boy Jamaal.”

Maria and her “Pool Boy”

I immediately did what any King Pin worth his crown would do; I confiscated the naming rights from Maria and quickly decided that I will name the damn thing myself.

Anyhow, the Weekly Sausage is awarded to the female bowler who bowls the highest number of pins over her average; thereby making her pretty much a dude, minus the meat of course. So, in recognition of this manly performance, the league is kind enough to award her, for lack of better term, the missing link. This week, like weeks in the past, we have two winners. Both Maddie Klingman and a sandbagging newbie, Regan McKinley were 29 pins over average. So ladies congratulations, now go throw on your work boots and remember to lift the seat when you pee.

I’m not sure who’s who, but if Iremember correctly,

those sure look like Maddie's underwear.

One last, but very important thing; this week when your server asks you if you would like to buy the King Pin a beer, I would suggest that you say yes. Those who do will have a 50% chance of winning a $10 Freeway Lanes bar gift certificate right then and there.

Looking forward to seeing your smiling faces this Sunday December 6th at 7pm.

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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The Cleveland Brown’s rule the Turkey Bowl

2009-11-28T09:13:00.031-05:00

No you idiot, not those Cleveland Browns, I’m talking about the tandem of Mike Brown Sr. and his son Mike Brown Jr. The young Brown proved to be unstoppable for the kid’s team as he rolled up 21 receptions for 337 yards and five TD’s to help the youngster’s build an early lead. That lead was due in large part to that fact that Terry Wise was intercepted 18 times in his first 19 passing attempts. Oddly enough, Terry blamed the interceptions on the intended receiver each and every time. Immediately following the replacement of Wise at QB, the adult’s mounted their comeback.

Chip Tighe spent the day putting enormous pressure on the playoff tested Mayfield High School senior quarterback, Lee Longo (whom I should point out is no relation to our very own Dick Dongo). I’m no Sigmund Freud, but I’m guessing that Dr. Tighe wanted to make sure that Lee, who is dating one of the “nameless” Tighe children, was well aware that Chip still had the ability to relentlessly hunt him down should he ever mistreat his daughter; and he clearly proved his point.

Chip's nephew Danny Tighe, a senior at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio used to be a serious threat when he played on the kids team. Back then he was a lightning quick, strapping 6'2" 180 pound game breaker who needed to be defended by 3 adults simultaneously. Now just 4 years later, and perhaps 40,000 Natty Lites later, he no longer instills fear in anyone. Somehow he transformed that body into a 5'7", 260 pound pile of slow moving jelly. The only thing he successfully did on Thursday was shit his pants as he tried to release a series of taco farts.

Danny Tighe probably didn't plan it,but it's
probably not the first time it's happened either

The adults inched their way back into a 7-7 tie (one point for each touchdown) and that’s when Mike Brown Sr. took control. On three consecutive defensive series, big Mike Brown intercepted the young high school QB. While those three interceptions somehow resulted in -9 return yards, they nonetheless provided the old folks with great field position and a chance to put points on the board. That’s exactly what they did as they bested da yute’s 10-7. After the game, Longo, who had not been intercepted in his previous 24 high school football games, was asked to describe what lead to the uncharacteristic interceptions. 'It’s hard to explain because I’ve never experienced anything like this. When Mr. Brown got within 10 yards of me it was like I was looking at an eclipse, he took up 6 passing lanes, and I simply couldn’t see anything else.'

Brian Kane, Mike Richuisa,

Mike "The Eclipse" Brown, and Andrew Ryzner

My son Tom, who was playing his first year with the adult’s, proved to be anything but a chip off the old block as he dropped every single pass thrown to him. His high school classmate, and "rock solid" D student at Ohio University, Danny Callam wasn’t much better defensively as he somehow dropped two balls that would have easily been returned for touchdowns. To his credit, after the game Callam said 'I guess I just choked; when I saw the ball coming my way I felt my butthole start twitching and it threw my concentration off. What else can I say; I’m not going to blame people for my mistakes like that Terry Wise guy does.'

Perhaps Tom & Danny should stick to sports

more suited to their abilities

I suppose I should say that in hindsight, Greg Cira was right trying to keep us off the field. It turned out with all the rain we had the field didn’t hold up as well as we thought. However, I am confident that it will be back in tip-top shape for next year’s Turkey Bowl.

Looks like every now and then Greg Cira is right

All it needs is a little love and care

See You at next years Turkey Bowl.

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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Chip Tighe, up to his old tricks

2009-11-24T12:00:00.023-05:00

Despite the efforts of Greg Cira to keep us off the St. Paschals football field this Thursday, I'd like to assure everyone that the 15th annual Turkey Bowl will be played as scheduled at 8 a.m. Thanksgiving morning. All adults and children are welcome to join us. For those who can't make it, I'll will do my best to provide a brief recap on Friday.

Now then, let me move on to a non-bowling matter.

Chip Tighe is an asshole! Well, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, maybe I should rephrase that; “Dear Lord, I am thankful Chip Tighe cannot be cloned; otherwise there would be two assholes in the world.”

Chip Tighe

Chip Tighe's clone

I don’t know if you have noticed, but the leaves have been falling off the trees pretty steadily for the last 6 weeks. If you’re poor like me, or cheap like Chip, you rake them yourself. I’ve got about 6,000 trees dropping shit on my yard; 5,900 of those trees are on Tighe’s property, but that’s not why Chip is an asshole. I bought two identical leaf rakes last year and have used them both this fall. Because of my beautiful OCD mind, whenever I buy something, I get two of them. As an aside, if you should ever buy me a beer, you should buy me two; otherwise, it’s like giving me half a beer.

Ole Martin V, happy as can be

Anyhow, on November 1st it was time to gather the leaves, but I couldn’t seem to find either rake. So I did what I always do, I went to Tighe’s yard and started looking around for my stuff. I saw my matching brown garbage can, my matching yellow handled garden rake, my matching wooden handled rounded point shovel, then, leaning against the shed I saw one of my matching leaf rakes. As I am inspecting it, Chip comes outside. I show him the rake and ask him why three of the forks are missing and inquire as to the crack in the fiberglass. He simply says, “that’s a piece of shit rake.”

Chip Tighe's recently cleaned up backyard

Two minutes into my raking the crack becomes a split and I now have two separate pieces, a handle, and a plastic rake head. I hear Tighe laughing and he then says “I told you it was a piece of shit.” My prayers to St. Anthony are finally answered 40 minutes later as I remember that I left the other rake out behind the bocce court. I complete my chore and lean the rake up against the side of my house.

Ole Martin V's freshly groomed yard

Roughly two weeks later, on November 13th, I tell my son that immediately after school he needs to handle the leaves, and that he won’t see his X-Box, ……correction, X-Box Live, all weekend if the yard isn’t done by the time I got home that evening. Sure enough, I pull in the driveway and the yard is only half way complete, and Ole’ Martin V is a little pissed. As I storm in the house, the lovely Mrs. Lynch stops me before I get to the kid and tells me it’s not his fault. She says that when she got home the young lad was damn near in tears knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do any live gaming this weekend. He explains to her that while he was raking, Dr. Tighe came over and told him that the rake he was using belonged to him and he was taking it back right now.

The Lynch kid moments before

Tighe stole the rake

I suppose I should have inquired as to why my 4’11”, 93 pound son didn’t put up a fight, but I decided to let that go. I figured, as all of us know, Chip was just picking on another kid. By the way, if by chance your kid has never been bullied by Tighe that’s only because your kid must never have been near him. Anyhow, I figured I needn’t worry because just three days earlier I finally did something I should have done the day I moved in; I took a knife and carved my name into that rake.

I go next door looking for Chip but get no answer. I remember that all of the Tighe’s are at the Mayfield-Solon game, so I text Chip about my rake. He replies saying that the rake was his. I figured that I would track the asshole down sooner or later. So, everyday for a week I go knocking on his door, and everyday he’s not there. Finally, I decide to ask one of his kids if they have seen my rake. This is what the “nameless” Tighe child said; “you mean the one you gave my dad?” I said, really? Did your dad tell you that I gave it to him? To which the “nameless” Tighe child said “no, but I saw him putting the wood filler into your name that was carved on the rake and figured that you must be talking about that one.” I said, really? I suppose you can still see my name pretty easily can’t you? To which the “nameless Tighe child said “no because my dad painted the handle black and then carved his name into it.” I said, really? Can you show it to me? To which the “nameless” Tighe child said, “nope, he took it to the Ashtabula house and was leaving it there.” I said, really? Do you know that your dad is an asshole? To which the “nameless” Tighe child said “oh yes, a complete and total one.”

A nameless Tighe kid who's obviously

proud to have Chip as a father

This story doesn’t have a happy ending yet, but it will. You see, I plan to go out and buy two more rakes; one I’m going to keep stored in my bedroom closet, and the other, well, I’m going to shove that one up Chip’s ass.

Sr. Agnes-Rose (center) moments before Chip

stole her cane and carved his name into it

This Thanksgiving count your blessing, and thank the Lord you don’t live next to Chip Tighe.

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Cira Goes On The Disabled List

2009-11-12T22:04:00.035-05:00

As some of you may have noticed, I roam the lanes from time to time. In doing so this week I overheard Greg Cira telling some guys how he couldn’t bowl because he tore a ligament in his bicep. He went on to volunteer that he injured it on that crazy P90X fitness video. I’ve seen that shit on TV and I get tired just watching it; and Greg pointed out that the workout is absolutely brutal, and he wouldn’t advise anyone to do it unless they’re a trained Olympic athlete. Well, you don’t have to spend a lot of time convincing Ole Martin V. to sit on his lazy ass and do nothing. Nonetheless, I had to give Cira some credit for having the energy to pick up the phone and buy it. When I was confronted with the same infomercial, I didn’t even have the energy to pick up the remote and change channels.

Cira can't wait for his full body make-over

Ole Martin V. not quite ready to make the same commitment

Alright, I’ll admit it; I was impressed. Impressed that is, until Greg walked away and I saw his wife Jennifer rolling her eyes, and biting her lip; in what certainly looked like an obvious effort not to say anything. All of a sudden I began to think that maybe, just maybe, Cira was lying. So I asked her if Greg had actually hurt himself on the P90X. Mrs. Cira thought for a moment, sighed, and said, yes I suppose he did hurt himself on the P90X. Finding myself a bit confused, I ask her to elaborate. She wanted to make sure that I knew Greg didn’t actually lie, but he didn’t really tell the truth either. Her story was a bit different from what Mr. Cira was leading people to believe.

Jennifer Cira getting tired of covering for Greg's bullshit stories

It turns out that Greg was very excited with the arrival of the UPS package containing the videos that were certain to transform his “clinically” obese body into one that would make Adonis scream with envy. Immediately he grabbed a knife, cut open the package, and pulled the instructions and videos out. He ran to his room, put on his favorite polyester sweat suit, and then made his way to the TV room. It was here that the injury occurred. You see Greg still hasn’t seen the video; it turns out that Cira was having trouble trying to rip the cellophane wrapping off the video. He finally managed to bite off a small piece of the wrapping, which allowed him to slide his right index finger inside the cellophane, thereby giving him a perfect fishhook grip. With all of his might Greg pulled the cellophane, then, not one second later, he let out a blood curdling scream. The cellophane didn’t budge, but the resistance it created ripped though his forearm and managed to tear the ligament in his bicep to pieces. How bout that; the little bastard couldn’t even get the thing opened without making a trip to the emergency room.

Cira one second after attempted cellophane opening

Cira two seconds after attempted cellophane opening

On behalf of the entire league I’d like to wish Mr. Cira a speedy recovery. Oh and by the way Greg, might I suggest that you stick to your current conditioning programs: hopscotch, jumping rope, and if you still have the strength, perhaps skipping.

Cira (2nd from left) and his workout buddies don't even need the rope

That does it! I’m bringing back the Lady Bug List, and the rest you sissy’s who are going to be on it can thank Greg Cira.

Marty Lynch

The King Pin

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Youngstown Tina Brown

2009-11-07T11:51:00.009-05:00

By now, I trust that everyone has had an opportunity to meet Tina Brown. If you haven’t, dare I say, you’re not missing much. Okay, that was a dick thing to say, but in my defense, I got that line from her husband Mike Brown, who apparently uses it on her all the time. So in effect, I’m just the messenger.

Regardless, a few weeks back Tina sends me an email wanting to know why I hadn’t written anything on the blog for so long. Then, she has the ballage to say that I’m nothing more than a one-hit-wonder or worse yet, that I suffer from something as amateurish as writers block. Me, a one-hit-wonder; how flattering. Need I remind you, that happens to be the same designation given to some guys named Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? As for writers block, are you kidding me? You jerk-offs provide me with more material than I know what to do with.

Anyhow, since Tina wants me to write something, then that’s what I’ll do. As some of you know, on November 6, 2009, Tina was supposed to host the fifth annual Martin V. Invitational dinner party at her home. Those who don’t know anything about it, obviously, weren’t invited. Nonetheless, on November 4th Tina called me saying that she had to cancel the party because both she and Mike had come down with the swine flu. Now, Mike with the swine flu makes total sense, in fact, if you told me he was the original carrier of the swine flu I’d believe that too. But Tina leads way too healthy a life-style to ever get sick.

What I’m trying to say is that I know Tina is lying to me; I simply need to get proof. So I decided to don my Inspector Clouseau outfit and stake out the Brown residence. Sure enough, at 5:05 pm that Friday evening the garage door opens; Tina backs out of the driveway and off she goes. I quickly jump into my un-marked Chrysler Cordoba and follow her, and follow her, and follow her, until finally; she pulls into the Youngstown branch of the YWCA.

Ole Martin V. staking out the Brown's house.

For those of you who don’t know, Tina is a workout freak, who has begun entering female body building contests. The problem is that she is bashful and doesn’t want anyone she knows to see her in a swim suit; therefore, she only goes to contests out of the Cleveland area. Well now I’ve seen her in a swim suit, and guess what? I sure wish I hadn’t.

A freshly shaven buttocks?

As she left the YWCA, I felt compelled to confront her about this lie. When I catch up to her in the parking lot she is clearly rattled. She’s apologetic but assures me that Mike really did have the swine flu, and what difference did it make if she wasn’t sick, Mike was sick so there couldn’t be a party anyhow. I could no longer believe anything she had to say. So I quickly stated that no decent wife would ever leave her sick husband at home alone to fend for himself. Tina immediately assured me that she took all of the necessary procautions to ensure that Mike would be fine until she returned, and if I didn’t believe her I was welcome to follow her back to her house and see Mike for myself. Which is just what I did, and guess what? I sure wish I hadn’t.

A well cared for Mike Brown?

In closing, let me say that if anyone else would like to question what I write or when I write it, please, and I mean this, please don't hesitate to contact me and voice your feelings.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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My Bowling League Is Back

2009-11-04T12:26:00.023-05:00

Happy Belated Halloween,

It’s obviously been a while since I put something out; and the reason for that is, well quite frankly, none of your god damn business. I won’t attempt to go back and recreate the events from the first two weeks of bowling. My memory is not what it used to be, and I’d rather not just make things up and risk losing my journalistic credibility with you folks. So perhaps I’ll just focus on a couple of things that jumped out at me from week three; here goes.

Without naming names (Himmel, Kane, Sirselle) some of you people are complete dick heads. Here it is 4pm on Sunday when Sherry Tighe forwards me a text she received from Cristen Kane saying that “No Spare Time” won’t be able to be at bowling that night. The Himmel’s have a Jewish ceremony to attend, the Kane’s have a soccer game to go to, and Jim Sirselle just had surgery. Now we all know how understanding I am when it comes to blowing off bowling; so it should come as no surprise that “No Spare Time” will have plenty of spare time next year to handle all of their trivial matters. Shit, I might just work out a mid-season replacement to drive the point home to the rest of you d-bags.

Here’s a suggestion, next time why don’t you call Rabbi Rabinowitz and tell him you’d love to spend the night yapping in Yiddish but you’ll be tied up that evening drinking beer and sucking down some non-kosher corn dogs. Or perhaps you might let Coach Soccer Sissy know that you’d love to sit around in the rain for five hours watching a bunch of school girls run back and forth so that one team can win 1-0 in some stupid triple overtime shootout, but you’ve got your own game to go to; a game that I should point out allows you to rub your balls for a purpose other than to simply stay warm. And for God’s sake Sirselle, only pussy’s have surgery during the season, so suck it up and play with a bit of discomfort you little bitch. I’m not all together sure what those people dressed up like on Halloween, but I’m guessing they looked something like this.

Brian and Melissa Himmel

Brian and Cristen Kane

Abigail and Jim Sirselle

Before I forget, I should mention that we had a few bowlers running for elected office this past Tuesday. Last year’s seldom-seen-sub, Scott Mills was re-elected to an At-Large seat on the Highland Heights City Council. This year, though still a sub with no team, he has managed to show up each week,… with guess what,…you got it,… campaign literature. This guy has his picture plastered all over everything, so most of you know who I’m talking about. But for those of you that are new to the league, as a courtesy, I’ll put his picture up one more time. My guess is now that he was re-elected, we won't see him for four more years.

Scott Mills

Another bowling sub, Rocco Dolciato came up a bit short in his run for the Ward 2 council seat in Highland Heights. I was actually somewhat shocked by that because Ward 2 is an enclave of Italians, which come to think of it, is surrounded by an enclave of Italians. So I’m thinking, how could a guy with that name lose in that area? After some thorough research, I’m guessing that he may have fared better had he not run against a wise guy named Leonardo Ricardo Lombardo. Sorry Rocco, ten vowels trumps your meager six syllable name any day of the week.

Rocco Dolciato (2nd from left) & da committee

Finally, Mark Byrne was unable to capture a seat on the South Euclid/Lyndhurst school board. I’m sure everyone remembers Mark, “the dog-trainer” from last year.
While Mark had the decency not to glad hand and make stump speeches at Freeway Lanes, like Mills did, that’s probably not what cost him the election. I’m guessing that he fell victim to the same thing that cost the East Cleveland Mayor, Eric Brewer his job last month; untimely photographs. So let this be a lesson to all of you who may seek office in the future; do not be cruel to animals. More importantly, be extremely careful when selecting a Halloween costume three days before the polls open.

Mark Byrne, looking mighty natural

I look forward to seeing all of you candy eating fat asses this Sunday November 8th.

XO,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Team Spotlight - The Pin Heads

2009-08-11T20:32:00.023-04:00

Hello People who suck at following simple instructions,

This past week we had over a 150 visitors to the blog, yet somehow only 19 of you ass wipes managed to click a box and vote for a Pimp Daddy. I should have known better than to count on you lazy bastards to do anything. Shit, you people can’t even reset the bowling pins without someone holding your hand; which means that I must be a complete idiot for thinking you could actually point and click.

Anyhow, for those of you who have heard that I was going to try and turn the Weekly Bowling Updates, and your replies to those updates into a book; well, there might be some truth to that, but I’m not confirming anything at this time. I will say that the idea did come to me after several people told me that they forward those Updates on to people who don’t even know who the people in our league are. I guess that after reading a few of them, people start to get a feel for who everyone is, in fact, people across the entire country now know that the name Nick Longo has many international interpretations; the most common of which is, flaming asshole. So, in an effort to help these strangers get an immediate feel for who our members are, I did a brief introduction of each team. This way, by the time the Weekly Updates start in the book, the reader will already know who everyone is.

Not exactly what I meant, but you get the idea.

Now, this will clearly be described as a work of fiction, but the ever compassionate King Pin will be happy to change your name upon request; and you can then decide if you’d prefer to use your real name. For example; PJ Buynack asked for a name change, so he became BJ Ballsnack, then decided to stick with the real name. The same held true for the award winning Ms. Naymick who briefly became Yvonda N. Mydik before she returned to her given name.

You can try to stay anonymous, but there are no guarantees.

With that in mind, I decided that I would veer off the Bowler Spotlight a little bit this week, and instead give you a sample of what an actual team introduction would look like in the book.

Chapter 13………………..THE PIN HEADS

In the mean time, I figure I’ll call the Bondra’s and get them squared away. John Bondra is a chiropractor; he used to be a chiroquackter until I threw my back out and had to use his services. I figure he’ll be good to have at the lanes in case I twist something while I’m bowling. His wife Carla is a piece of work; she definitely is funny and always has an entertaining tale to tell. I remember when I first met her; she was telling a story about how she was at the gym working out. She describes how she is seated on one of those nautilus leg press machines, and how it reminds her of being in stirrups at the OBGYN office. Then she says that her handsome personal trainer was adjusting the position of her legs, and in doing so, he pushed her knees outward. That outward push must have opened a space between the ribbing of her underwear and her inner thigh because at that very moment she and the trainer both watched a fruit fly escape from her snatch. So being quick on her feet, what does Carla say to the trainer? “That’s not mine.”

Carla releasing the fly................. which sent her handsome personal trainer into a major anxiety fit.

I figured that if she was willing to tell that story to me, there’s no reason I can’t tell it to whomever I want. And by now, I’ve probably told it 100 times. The amazing thing is that I’ve had that story told back to me by other people, the difference is that instead of fruit flies coming out of her shorts, there were bats, and pigeons, and hornets. Hell, someone even told me that Carla was using that area as a nesting place for cocoons and a breeding ground for tadpoles. Just goes to show you how people can take a factual story and turn it into fiction; I hate when people do that.

Her sister-in-law Dee Dee Bondra is listening to the story and says that the same thing happened to her, only worse! She says that she and Carla were at the gym and that she was on that same machine with the same handsome personal trainer, and he loads a ton of weight on the machine and tells Dee Dee to start pushing . She couldn’t budge it, so he said come on Dee Dee, come on, you can do it. So she reaches back and with every ounce of strength she has she pushes, and right then, she lets out the most enormous fart she’s ever had in her whole entire life. So being quick on her feet, what does she say to the trainer? “That wasn’t me that was Carla." Now rumor has it that it was a little “scarier” than just an enormous fart, but I like to stick to facts and will assume that she didn’t really have to change her diaper and wipe down her back.

Dee Dee showing off her most recent Mother's Day gift..... as her handsome personal trainer tries to describe the enormity of her blast.

Dee Dee’s husband Tony is standing right there listening to this story, and I have to admit, as he was shaking his head, he didn’t have that “I’m so glad I married her” look on his face. Tony never says much, when he does, he usually just grumbles. That’s probably because Dee Dee never stops talking long enough for him to get a word in. As I watch him shake his head, and listen to him growling, I start to see that cartoon character, the Tasmanian Devil. Some people describe Tony as a fireplug, or a tank, you know, short and stocky. Obviously, I’m a little more personal than that. He’s definitely the Tasmanian Devil; short and square from the waist up, and skinny little legs from the waist down. Granted, he’s got a little less hair, but other than that, we’re talking twins.

Like I said, twins.

Oh, and by the way, his brother John Bondra will likely be the only metro-sexual we have in the league. I imagine that he’ll stop by Saks Fifth Avenue looking for some Ralph Lauren bowling sandals, and perhaps a vibrant silk scarf.

Oh yeah. John definitely went on a shopping spree; but at least he's ready to bowl.

I can definitely see why John and Tony started dating those two girls. What I can’t figure out is why they kept dating them. Once you get past those ridiculous, though funny stories, they’re really not much more than a couple of endless talking, loud mouth, pain in the ass irritants. Nonetheless, by now it should be apparent that all of the Bondra’s are easily scoring an invite to My Bowling League.

OK people, there is a sample chapter; and rest assured, I’ve got an equally complimentary introduction for all of you.

Dee Dee bidding us all a fond farewell.

Likewise, a fond farewell,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Slimming Down the League

2009-08-03T11:35:00.011-04:00

Hello people who survived the cut,

As you recall, I told you that we would be cutting two teams from the league this year; and, I’m pretty sure that I mentioned the reason would come down to who failed to show up most often. But for the record, the ever compassionate King Pin could not bring himself to ax anyone. So then, let it be known, that by sheer coincidence the two teams that failed to show up most often decided, “on their own” not to re-join us this season. What are the odds of that!

So, it is with great sadness (feigned) that I bid farewell to the old people team, The Bowling Stones. I do take comfort knowing that their Sunday nights will once again be filled with excitement as they shuffle to the end of the hall for Bingo, Parcheesi, and a little Go Fish. I’m confident that while they’re soaking their teeth in polident, sipping on some warm ginger ale, and tapping their canes to the sounds of The Glen Miller Band, they won’t even remember they were ever in this league.

The Bowling Stones, back home again.

The other fond farewell goes to the Grebenc and Gurney team, Alley Oops. Bob “Shrek” Grebenc and his charming wife “Cruella” may not have been the life of the party, but at least they were alive. I’m not sure what I’ll miss more, his blank stare, or her beady eye stare. O.K., I figured it out; I’ll miss Bob’s blank stare more, mostly because Jane’s stare kind of scared me.

Bob & Jane, an unlikely pair.

Their teammates, Mike Gurney and her husband Janet will just be too busy to commit to the leagues rigorous schedule. Mike recently picked up an evening job teaching knitting and needlepoint at a local nursing home….I wonder if he’ll know anybody…… And my goodness, Janet was just named the 3rd shift head diesel mechanic at the Lordstown Lawnboy factory.

Mike & Janet, they've never been happier.

Additionally, the girls from Boccigalupe will not be returning. Like the Gurney’s, a couple of them had some scheduling conflicts and I suggested that they should take the year off and leave in good standing. While I’m saddened, I suspect that this news will certainly please both the waitress, who never received a tip from them, and Terry Wise who was never able to sell a single raffle ticket to the stingy spendthrifts. Nonetheless, I’m sure they too will be missed……. but not so much. Therefore, I’ve taken the liberty of replacing the girls with a hodge-podge of mostly shit, but I figured, how much worse can they be compared to some of the crap we have in this league?

Boccigalupe, they'll be back sooner or later.

As you can see at the top right hand of this page, we are conducting a poll to determine who should take over the Pimp Daddy reigns vacated by Mike “The Whiney Bitch” Hirsch. It’s not often the King Pin asks you for your opinion; mostly because I don’t care about your opinion. However, the lovely Mrs. Lynch has pointed out that if I select Brian Himmel, people will think that I am a chauvinist. She then told me that if I break protocol and select Melissa Himmel, a female as Pimp Daddy, people will think that I’m a pervert. Then, perhaps in an attempt to comfort me, she says that I shouldn’t really worry about that because everyone already thinks that I’m a chauvinist and a pervert. While I must admit that did make me feel better, I’ve decided that I would give all readers, regardless whether or not they are in the league, the opportunity to offer their guidance. So, I am now kindly asking that all of you make a selection.

With that, you have now completed reading one of the shortest weekly updates in the history of the league. I’ll be back in touch soon, who knows, perhaps with another installment featuring a Bowler Spotlight.

Briefly Yours,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Bowler Spotlight - PJ Buynack

2009-07-18T10:23:00.024-04:00

Who better to kick off our weekly member spotlight than our very own bowling booze cruise director, PJ Buynack?

PJ Buynack a.k.a. Julie McCoy
********************************

We all know him to be a very bashful fella, who usually makes himself the quintessential wall-flower at all the party’s and get together’s……Oh pleeeeeze; the guy won’t shut up; and wall-flower? Wall-flowers don’t wear those 3 foot long pointed toe, zip up shoes that the wicked witch of the East would have killed for. Nor will you find a wall-flower wearing one of the padded paisley print shirts that just happens to match his bedspread.

PJ wrapped in his blanket admiring his new footwear

Perhaps I’m just jealous that I don’t have the keen fashion sense that comes so naturally to Mr. Buynack. For example, it never would have dawned on me to purchase a pair of those turquoise Prada bowling shoes that he so proudly wears. Obviously PJ knows all the trends way before the rest of us. And yes he has been kind enough to share some of those trends with the rest of the league; as he recently assisted Mike Brown in picking out a new pair of open-toed, blue suede Hush Puppies, you know, the one’s that come with a free shoe horn. To finish our boy Brown off, Buynack got him a red mesh wife-beater shirt, and a pair of white lycra bicycle pants, all this, just in time for the Fourth of July. If I close my eyes real tight, I can almost see Mr. Brown strutting his stuff in that little holiday outfit; what a show off. I’m sure Tina Brown and all of her little body builder girl friends were green with envy wishing they could look as hot as Down Town Mikey Brown.

They match his

bowling ball perfectly

Mike Brown squeezing

into those white lycra pants

Having just said he’s willing to share his flare for fashion, please remember that it’s not without some indignation and a hardy scolding. He only offers his assistance after he berates you publically for your hideous JCrew polyester sweater selection, or god forbid your quadruple pleated slacks fresh off the Kohl’s clearance rack. And for heaven’s sake, whatever you do, don’t let him find out that you buy your jeans at Target, or worse yet, Costco.

Now this part is important, so pay attention. Should you find yourself at a party, and you’re wearing anything, anything at all, purchased at one of the aforementioned stores, do not, I repeat, do not leave his side. Here’s why; PJ drinks liquor as if he weighs 280 pounds, when in fact, he’s a buck forty at best. Mathematically, this means that any alcohol consumption after his first 47 minutes of drinking puts him in the dreaded over-served category. After two hours of continuous drinking his behavior is no different that that of a person hooked up to a vodka IV drip; and boy does that truth serum work good on him. You don’t leave his side because if you do, he’s gonna tear your wardrobe to pieces, then he’s going to go after your ridiculous Jan Brady hairdo, and finish you off by commenting on your Elvira make up, and that’s if you’re a guy. Women don’t fare nearly as well; he’ll let everyone know how you’re trying to cram your 50 pounds of trailer park ass into a size two pair of K-Mart pleather stirrups. If it’s not that, our boy Buynack will surely let everyone know that your wrinkly dried up skin can’t be hidden even with the 18 pounds of god awful Mary Kay cosmetics you plastered on your electrolysis starved grill. Then he’ll go after your snausage toes with the cheap-hooker colored nail polish, that are tearing the seams out of your sandals, which don’t even come close to matching your outfit; oh it just goes on and on, the guy is brutal. So, like I said,…….don‘t, under any circumstance, leave his side.

Look, we all know that I take no pleasure in pointing out other peoples flaws, but I’m doing you guys a favor by informing you of Mr. Buynack’s rants. You should consider this a public service announcement; and as usual, it’s just the King Pin looking out for you guys.

As for you PJ; don’t even bother asking people “do I do that? I don’t do that, do I? Because the answer is yes; granted, we all know you probably only mean about half of it, but nonetheless, you do. So Buynack, the next time you’re at a party and you’re thinking that you’re drawing crowds bigger than Liberace, just remember, it’s not because people want to see your act, it’s because people don’t want to be part of your act.

The almost Widow Tighe, an "over-served"

PJ Buynack, and the King Pin

Now why don’t you get your act together and do what you do best; travel agent shit. So stop talking people out of going on our booze cruise and start threatening to put them in your routine if they don’t go. Remember, they don’t have to be in My Bowling League to join in on the fun; we’ll take anyone,…… but I'd prefer if you looked for hot chicks, not dickhead guys.

Buynack, look for this.....................not this

As for the rest of you, I’ll be back with more valuable information soon, very soon.

Warmly Yours,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Bowling Ball Trophy Winners

2009-07-04T13:37:00.038-04:00

Hello Fourth of You-liars,

Well, as it turns out, we will not have any video of the awards ceremony after all. I would have no problem telling you that the pitiful film quality and the horrendous camera work on the part of our former videographer, Eileen Toomey was the sole reason for my decision to forego the video clips. While that is true, the real reason for my decision is that upon review, I'm kind of a boring speaker, with very little entertainment value. Next year I'm going to come up with some scripted material, throw it on one of Blomama's teleprompters, unload my amateur camera girl, and I guarantee it will be much better.

In the mean time, here's a quick rehash of the evening. I arrive at 6:30, just in time to confiscate the last parking spot in the city. I immediately begin bitching at the manager of Claddagh for not mentioning the fact that there was an art festival at Legacy Village that night and that every parking spot would be taken by the time we showed up. I soon realized that it wasn't his fault, it was Greg Cira's fault. After all, it was that little bastard who screwed me at the last minute by telling me he was too busy selling signs for the St. Paschal football field to continue on with this mission that he volunteered for. If we had a dick head of the year award he would have definitely won, well, he would have certainly been in the top 10; I almost forgot just how many dick heads this league has.

Longo, Sell, Tighe, Wise, Cira, Grebenc, Hirsch, & Klingman... My Bowling League Dickhead sampler platter.

Anyhow, its time to recognize some exemplary performance by a few of our members. First, our girl Yo-Yo-londa walked off with the "I blow more than all the Stripper's combined" award with her league wide season low average of 84. Right behind her and winning the "I suck more than anyone else in the league except for Yolonda" award was Joann (Roxanne-Stripper #2) Michalos with an 85 average. Neil (George Costanza) Gavin walked off with the "Low Man on the Totem Pole" award for his league wide season low game of 58. He was unable to knock Gabriel Argie off her stool, as she maintained the record for all-time lowest score in league history of 51.

Bob Grebenc dethrone Nick Longo of the "Jackass of the Year" award, largely because his team failed to show up three times during the course of the season, and stiffing Ole Martin V. for the final weeks $40.

The King Pin with Yolonda the blower, and Joann the sucker.

Neil Gavin and George Costanza, or vice versa.

Nick, which in some small Guatemalen towns means "man with testicles on chin," Longo was not completely shut out. In his absence, Cindy Lembach accepted his trophy for the 2009 My Bowling League "Queen of the Year" award. Nick, which is also the Tibetan word for scent of the anus, won this award by being the only fella to hold the "Queen of the Week" title 3 times during the course of the season. (I should point out that this trophy was one of three handsomely crafted awards designed by the lovely Mrs. Lynch.)

Cindy Lembach accepting Nick Longo's Queen of the Year trophy.

Longo's counterpart, and this years winner of the yet to be named Sausage, and the title of 2009 My Bowling League "King of the Year" trophy went to Audrey Cercelle. Audrey who was not in attendance was represented admirably by Cristen Kane. Cristen, (whose husband Brian was a co-winner along with Brian Himmel of the "Queer Little Bitch of the Year" award) has refused to part with the winning trophy, and as I understand it, has cleared a spot on her nightstand for it. Audrey has recently filed a suit to recover the trophy and the case is currently being litigated in smalls claims court. While I'm scheduled to provide testimony next Thursday, I'm hoping that this matter can be resolved prior to that. Regardless the outcome, they won't likely be teammates next season.

Brian Himmel & Brian Kane our QLB's

Cristen Kane tells Abigail Sirselle that possession is 9/10ths of the law.

Speaking of next season, I need to know who is coming back, and I need to know soon. I will be sending a separate email to team captains, but please feel free to jump the gun and email me first with your decisions.

The good doctor, Patrick Getty was anything but a surprise winner of the inaugural "Lady Bug of the Year" trophy. I understand that he has already redecorated his office with this trophy as the centerpiece of his bookshelf. Now patients will not have to look at his eight degrees, all from the University of Chicago, and wonder why he couldn't get accepted to any other college. Instead they'll focus on the trophy; and I'm confident our boy Getty will beam with pride as each and every patient asks him how he "won" that award. I'm not certain what his answer will be, but he should respond with something like, "I received this award because my wife repeatedly made me look more ball-less than any other guy in the league".

Yo Getty, lifting an 8 ounce scalpel all day hardly constitutes rigorous weight training.

By the way, but not that anyone cares, Terry Wise, Sue Wise, Eddie Mellen, and Dee Dee Bondra all won something because they did something good having to do with bowling.

Lastly, we will be starting a My Bowling League Spotlight segment to this blog where will be highlighting one of our members on a weekly basis. if you would like to be "spotlighted" or have a suggestion on a person who should be spotlighted, please let me know. Otherwise, I'll be making my own selections.

Enjoy the Holiday,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Bowling Ball Raffle Winners

2009-06-26T15:21:00.013-04:00

Hello people who pee without moving, and Chip,

I don’t have any of the video from the banquet to post just yet. It appears that while Eileen Toomey is quick with photos, she’s slow as molasses with video. So, perhaps I’ll just take a moment to cover our raffle winners and get back to you later with the trophy recipients.

Before I do that, I should tell you about the unofficial, My Bowling League “Husband of the Year.” When Edie and Andy Mellen show up at the banquet, my wife tells Andy that Edie was going to get some kind of award. So Andy tells Edie that she was going to win the biggest boobs in the league award; an award, which I should point out, we don’t have yet. I’m not sure what kind of guy would say something like that to his wife, and then spend the next two hours watching her shake and squirm and sweat, never telling her the truth, just laughing. Even when she gets back from the bathroom and tells Andy that she just threw up, he still doesn’t fess up. When she tells him that she may have diarrhea, he says “we’ll leave right after you get your award.” I didn’t realize how many schmucks this league had, but I’m definitely adding Andy to the list. If we did have the Biggest Boob award, I’m thinking Andy would win it. The truly troubling part of this story is why in the world Edie would think that I would do something to embarrass her, or anyone for that matter. I’m probably the one who should be upset.

Andy Mellen, not quite Husband of the Year

The raffle for the seats on the coveted Rules Committee produced two fine additions; Katy Profeta and Dave Toomey. Those difficult league decisions that previously fell solely upon my shoulders, broad though they may be, will now be shared amongst the three of us. Ironically, we’ve had our first meeting and have decided to add a Biggest Boobs in the league award to next year’s program. Dave brought the idea up, Katy said she was fine with it, and though I offered my opposition, it still passed 2-1.

I'm so happy Katy is on the Rules Committee, Dave, not so much.

Speaking of passed, the title of Pimp Daddy for the Strippers has passed from Mike Hirsch to either Brian Himmel or Melissa Himmel, but I’m not sure which. In my mind I pictured the title going to a guy, but Melissa actually held the winning ticket. The Rules Committee hasn’t worked this out yet; Katy thinks it should be Brian, and Toomey voted for Melissa. Both had good arguments; Katy is a traditionalist who firmly believes that there are certain occupations that should only be held by men; quickly citing priest, warlock, and pimp. Dave, who’s not typically a women’s libber, agreed but countered that Brian would not be suitable because he was just presented with the “Queer Little Bitch” of the year award, and that’s not usually on the resume of a high quality pimp daddy. I had hoped that the enlarged rules committee would make these decisions easier for me. It appears to have backfired and my burden is now greater. Therefore, I would welcome anyone to click on the comment section below and offer insight, for or against these individuals, prior to me casting the deciding vote for pimp daddy, or pimp mammy.

Melissa & Brian are already lobbying the Rules Committee for votes.

Speaking of deciding, Maria Gaeta won the “Name the Sausage” raffle and must decide upon a name for our mascot. As an aside, she also won the vibrating sausage, with rechargeable batteries. Now I’m guessing that she must have used that as a throw toy for her dog because I get a letter in the mail last Tuesday telling me that the replacement vibrating sausage that I requested would be shipped within two weeks. I was confused because I ordered these things, paid for these things, and received these things months ago. So I call the 800 number to find out what’s going on. It turns out that my address is still in their system but the letter was supposed to go to Maria. Apparently she sent it back because the motor was burned out and the batteries were not holding a charge. The fella said that they hadn’t seen one in that bad of shape before, and that they weren’t even going to try to fix it; they would just send a brand new one out. So, we’re still waiting on a name, a name that I should point out, will have to meet with committee approval.

Maria has never been happier.

For those of you who did not take advantage of the free lap dances offered by “The Strippers” in the back room at Claddagh, you’re out of luck. They are going back to their standard $3 dual lap dance fee; which I should point out, is still not a bad value in these trying economic times.

The Strippers, soon to be under new management.

Waiting for your help,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Chip Tighe Goes Fishing

2009-06-19T10:39:00.011-04:00

Hello Banqueteers,

Well this is the new Weekly Bowling Update format. So if you want to continue receiving the updates, you’re going to have to sign up as a follower of the blog (located on the right side of this page). If you’re not on the current distribution list, you’ll have to sign up as a follower and send an email to (mybowlingleague@aol.com) requesting to be added to the list; or removed. (Everyone is welcome!) This way you'll be notified of any updates, and be able to post comments of your own; though I don't advise it. Trust me, it’s not that difficult. In fact, my sister Beth and my brother Terry, whom many of you met on the cruise, both found it easy to do. I mention this because both of them are imbeciles, which as everyone knows, puts them one step below a moron. Hence, if they can figure it out, everyone else should likewise be able to; well everyone else, with the possible exception of Chip Tighe who recently earned the life long title of major freaking idiot, which for the record, is two steps below a moron.

For the three of you who haven’t heard, our little fisherman Tighe got lost in the woods for 15 hours in a remote bear, wolf, and coyote infested Canadian forest. What an idiot. For those of you who think it could happen to anyone, you’re wrong. First, you have to be stupid enough to drive 12 hours north for the sole purpose of putting your entire body into a jumpsuit made of bug netting. Had this been his first trip across the border, he may have an out. But he’s been shimmying his dumb ass into that netting for the last 10 years. And every year he comes home with welts from being bitten by bugs. What an idiot.

So here is what happened. Chip and two of his equally stupid friends, spend 13 hours fishing, and sipping beer through a straw that they slid through their facial netting. When they return, Tighe goes into the woods to take a pee; (why someone would feel the need to be discreet when there isn’t a soul within 80 miles is beyond me) nonetheless; he strolls 15 feet into the woods. Now had our little Hansel brought Gretel, perhaps he would have known to turn around 180 degrees, follow the bread crumbs, and rejoin his pals. But no, not Jungle Larry, he decides that he wants to take a shortcut back. That’s right, a shortcut; as if being stupid wasn’t enough, he has to be stupid and lazy. What did he think he was going to do with the extra energy he’d be saving by cutting 2 steps off his journey? What an idiot.

Now, every one of you has got to be asking yourself, how could you get lost after 15 steps? How could anyone possibly get lost? Well some keen probing on my part elicited some valuable information. It turns out that Chip didn’t want to pee in front of his pals because he had a sudden urge to do what he calls his “circle pee.” The circle pee consists of Chip taking a leak while spinning around in circles. Apparently, Chip thought if he were moving, it was less likely that his itty-bitty privates would be bitten by bugs. When he finished, (bite free he claims) not only was he dizzy, but he had also lost his bearings. So, did he immediately yell to his friends for help? Nope, not our woodsman, he decides that he can find his way back on his own; no sense letting those guys harass him because he called for help. So how long do you try to find your way back before you decide to call for help; a minute, two minutes, how about five minutes? Nope, not if you're Chip, no sir-re-bob, if you’re Tighe you wait one hour and forty minutes. Yep, 100 minutes; I am absolutely certain this is what Forrest Gump meant by, “stupid is as stupid does.” What an idiot.

Suffice to say, no one heard him. I won’t go into all of the details of what happened to Chip as a “happy” 7pm turned into a” nervous” 9pm, which lead to a “tearful 1am” followed by a “cry like a baby” 4am, which eventually culminated into a “bartering with God” 7am. I’m not sure what Tighe gave up or agreed to do during those negotiations, but at 10am the local helicopter search & rescue team located their newest village idiot.

I hope I don’t come across as uncompassionate; so for the record, I’m truly grateful he was found. Cause if he wasn’t, I probably would have been stuck cutting his grass and doing all sorts of menial chores at his house. Then I’d have to put up with the lovely Mrs. Lynch grilling me about how come I’m spending so much time at the widow Tighe house, “what, all of a sudden you’re a plumber?” Like I need that shit in my life. Welcome home idiot.

Now I’m too tired to talk about the banquet, but I will come back with a recap soon, very soon. So get signed up, and in the mean time, here are some photos that Eileen Toomey took for us at the Bowling Ball at Claddagh.

http://picasaweb.google.com/eileentoomey/BowlingBanquet09?feat=email#

You can also check out the Jim Gaffigan video below. I’m confident some of you losers will be able to relate.

Fondly Yours,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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Jim Gaffigan Goes Bowling - Video Clip

2009-06-18T23:18:00.001-04:00

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Blogging may not be in my future

2009-06-14T15:34:00.001-04:00

People kept saying " Marty you gotta get your own blog." I thought they said this because they recognized I had something of value to say. However, I'm now beginning to believe that these people simply don't like me. If you have ever tried to set up a blog-site you can probably appreciate the pain-in-the-ass-factor that is closely associated with this activity.

I envisioned a great looking site with photos, audios, videos, links to distant places, and other cool shit. Yet, reality is slowly setting in; and if my reality doesn't change quick, well, you've just read my first and last blog.

Irritatedly Yours,

Marty Lynch
The King Pin

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