Remember the opening sequence in Jackass: The Movie, when the superstars of idiocy push each other down a bridge in a shopping cart? Then you're close to imagining the tomfoolery on display during the Idiotarod Shopping Cart Race. The event, named sardonically after the 1,151-mile Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race in Alaska, originated in San Francisco and has spread to other major metropolises like New York City and Chicago. The inaugural Phoenix race began and ended at Bikini Lounge on a beautiful February afternoon and showcased three to four team members, all tied to "found" shopping carts, pushing one cart-sitter around the streets of downtown. The fun and competitive race made pit stops at The News Room and .anti_space before Double Team and Dance Dance Armageddon took first and second, respectively, with the Renegade Rollercart Girls winning the "Best Sabotage" distinction. What can we say? Our town is filled with lovable idiots. Registration is $5 per person, $30 per team.
We've decided that playing bingo has gone past ironic to kind of sad and come back around again to some kind of post-irony level of acceptable things to do with your weekend. (And that was before that stupid television show.)

There's something inherently soothing about watching those little white balls roll around their cage while you hope your number will be called. And if you're going to gamble, we feel it's a lot smarter to buy in at a bingo game for $5 than waste hours of life (and a lot more money) at a poker table.

When the bingo itch strikes, we don't so much want to play in a church with a bunch of saggy old ladies. No, we'd much rather go somewhere we can drink and smoke while waiting for our numbers to pop up. That's why Fort McDowell Casino is perfect. It's got the biggest bingo room in the state and includes a smoking section. On top of that, there are games starting as late as 3:15 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays — sounds a little weird, but late at night in a bingo room is prime people-watching.

Thanks to the folks who run the Arizona WiffleBall League, big kids of all ages can baffle hitters with nasty, perforated plastic ball benders or go way downtown by swinging a Herculean, yellow synthetic bat.

The league is part of the 19-region Fast Plastic association, which grants division winners a spot in the wiffle national championships (this year's version was held in Austin, Texas). Don't fret if you can't recruit enough rubber-armed pitchers or bases-clearing sluggers. Just hit up the organizers and they'll match you with (hopefully) a fellow Warren Spahn or Ted Kluszewski. Tournaments are held outdoors at Cactus Park and feature round-robin duels and a home run contest. Chicks most definitely dig the long ball, and, depending on the woman, they may already dig the plastic, too.

Retro furnishings such as orange shag rugs and chrome diner tables are back in style, and vintage-style threads dominate the runways. That's why we love Glen Fair, an old-school alley with beige stucco walls and a curvaceous sign that mimics the monogramming on your dad's old polyester bowling shirt. There are league nights for youth and adults, dollar days and senior afternoons where old-timers can earn a buck or two for multiple strikes. But we think Friday and Saturday's Neon Karaoke Night, complete with groovy singers and acid-flashback lighting, is the real winner here. The swank lounge atmosphere is great for a casual, no-hassle first date. And though the live entertainment is generally off-key, there's plenty of cheap beer to dull your senses. So brush up on your Lionel Richie lyrics, throw on some bell-bottoms and go singing in the lanes.
Screw the FBR Open. Who needs it? The only golfer we follow with any regularity is Korean-American sweetie Michelle Wie, and she doesn't have the plumbing to play the PGA. After all, what kind of golf is it when there's no windmill to putt-putt through, no Lost Dutchman-themed course, or King Arthur-themed greens? Hey, we've seen the FBR on TV, and all those putting greens are obstacle-free. Where's the challenge, the thrill of whether or not you'll make it past a mini-sawmill, or through a perilous medieval fortress? Heck, do you think when the Scots invented this game back in the early 17th century, they intended for it to be played on open expanses free of clutter and childlike distractions? Okay, maybe they did. But then again, those crazy Scots wear skirts, too, and that's the last thing we want to see Tiger Woods wearing. (Michelle Wie's another story.) Point is, Mesa's Golfland allows one the opportunity to knock around ye ole gutta percha in civilized environs, with water slides, bumper boats and video games nearby. Hey, they don't call it Golfland for nothing.
Ah, the lush smell of bermuda grass and dried mud. The dull thwack of metal on polymer. The shower of grass in the air and the white smudge of a ball rolling on the ground.There's nothing like passing a summer day at Encanto, where the greens are flat as prairieland and our confidence is as high as it gets. Except for a few thirsty-looking trees, there's little to get in our way except the carts and bodies of other players. Fore!We love Encanto's treasure of esteem-building par threes and fours, and the fact that the course is accessible to the masses, smack in the middle of town. But it's those City of Phoenix greens fees that keeps us coming back — just $27 in the morning and $23 if you start after 11 a.m. (that's with a cart). With that kind of rate, we can hail down the beer girl every time she rolls by.
What we enjoy most about this easily accessible course is the dress code, as in there is NONE! You want to yank the ball around in your favorite ratty T-shirt and goofy shorts that cover at least most of your behind, go for it. That's not to say, however, that this mature track — which opened for business back in 1974 — is a piece of cake. No, if you're like us, that is to say, cursed with an errant swing pattern, unfortunate club choices and the putting stroke of an ax murderer, you'll end up using more mulligans than any self-respecting hacker ever ought to consider. Think trees, big trees, and lots of 'em. Also think water — the Western Canal zigs and zags through the course, and comes into play here and there. We also like the fact that the course is mostly flat and the fairways generally wide and forgiving. And the cost is relatively minimal. Summer rates are $18.50 for 18 holes and a motorized cart. Price-wise, the rest of the year ain't bad, either. So tee it up and give it a swack.
Most of the super-luxe courses in the Valley are super-private, but a few will let you on the links if you have the cash. We asked our favorite golfer for his favorite course — price being no object — and he didn't hesitate to spew out verbiage worthy of a Madison Avenue public relations firm:

"Troon North," came the immediate response. "The service is outstanding; all employees are well-trained and appreciate great customer service. The course is in incredible shape, tee to green. The fairways are immaculate, the sand traps well-manicured, and putts roll on the fast greens true to the line. The views of Pinnacle Peak and Four Peaks are spectacular."

We're sold, and we don't even like to golf. Maybe that's because it really is all about the course — of course. This one'll run you $75 or so, per player, and that's in the dead of summer. Could be hundreds in-season. But hey, great view. And bragging rights.

Sometimes we feel our hackles rise while riding the mean streets of the Valley. We feel lucky the dumbass serial shooters missed us, since we make such a pretty target in our colorful spandex biking jerseys. But we figure we're still bound to get creamed someday by a drunken legislator or some other idiot motorist. We like to avoid those risks by sticking to the miles of smooth-riding bike paths that slice through Tempe and Scottsdale.

Our favorite training ride, from Town Lake and Mill Avenue to Scottsdale and Chaparral roads, can be done entirely on these paths, for a decent calorie-burning distance of about 15 miles. The scenery's terrific the whole way, and varied enough to keep it interesting, going past rippling lakes and grungy county island properties and pricey Scottsdale townhomes. The path's northern end is near Shea Boulevard, and it can be accessed from a number of points between there and Town Lake for an enjoyable ride of any distance.

Construction of the new condos just east of Scottsdale Road at Town Lake knocked out the path for much of last year, but it reopened in the spring. We're waiting eagerly for the new pedestrian bridge (it'll be okay for bikes, too) scheduled to go up next year over Town Lake, which will make the ride even more pleasant.

This route keeps us in the saddle much longer than we'd like, but it's probably a two-hour ride for the hardest of bicycle butts. Where you start depends on where you live, but we do the loop clockwise, finding Maricopa Road from the East Valley. However you get there, you should eventually find yourself on Riggs Road/Beltline Road, a wind-blown dusty highway on the Gila River Indian Community way to the south of South Mountain. Fifty-first Avenue is the loop's western edge. Just after Beltline bends north is a Texaco store good for drinks and snacks. Sometimes, it stocks flat-repair kits, but don't count on it.

About half the time, we'll finish this ride by taking Dobbins Road to South Mountain Park's Central Avenue entrance and steaming up to the radio towers before heading home. We love the winding summit road because it's hard, and there's nothing like the burn we get from doing it after the round-the-mountain ride. Of course, free-spinning down the hill is one of life's greatest joys. From our home, this is about a 50-miler — enough to justify a couple of 44-ounce drinks and a long nap.

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