I have had a problem of longstanding. I'll eat most anything between flaky layers of crust. Apples, rhubarb, kidneys, I'm there. I also develop my hearty appetite at the lanes, sitting in those fiberglass slider seats with my buddies and writing up the spares on circular formica tops. The sport of the gods, the plotz of the weekend sportstubbies.

Got to a point with me that I went to the physician about it. Told him I liked nothing better than to step into the universe of pin-setters and gutterballs, preferably with some brown-cardboard containers of Saralee or Entenmans, heavy on the grease spots.

Doc said I'm Pie-Bowler.