Among the vast fecund lot of my talents is seeing into the future. For example, when I was four years old, I saw a highly-marketed egomaniac androgynous freak screaming clichés into a microphone. Or, last month, I saw some sheets covered in stains…wait…that wasn’t the future; that was just my bed. I totally need to rehire my maid, either that or fix my catheter.

Most recently, I looked into my ball o’ future and saw a glow-in-the-dark bowling ball. True, one may argue that I was merely looking at the thing itself and not into some metaphysical realm, but I assure you—I’m a professional.

To help manifest this vision, tonight I’m going bowling with my crew. I have to admit I’m a horrible bowler. Finally though, my mind won’t be the only thing in the gutter.