I'm sore. I would like to tell you that I'm sore because I saved a nun from a pack of Nazi biker-gang rapists, or that I repelled from the Eiffel Tower on a rope I wove from 8lb-test fishing line and the hair of a red-headed supermodel to drop-kick a terrorist who was about to nuke Paris, or that I'm training for a triathlon, a marathon and a battle royale (all to be held on the same day), but in truth, I have to accept the fact that age is starting to set in -- I'm sore from bowling. From bowling. This is not a good thing.
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