my weekend foursome

trophy

If you’ve never started off a weekday morning at 5:30 am with a Bloody Mary, then I don’t know who you are anymore. And if you’ve never asked the other men in your foursome to lift their balls so that you could finish your stroke, then you only have my pity. And the only reason I choose to speak in double entendres is to underline the frustration of a week speaking with very sweet co-workers who are in desperate need of the URBAN DICTIONARY.

/Cue the dux

Scene 1: Curriculum Development Meeting
UNNAMED INDIVIDUAL: So we’re going to develop a new program: Piledriving!
ME: /giggle
UNNAMED INDIVIDUAL: Something funny? Dontcha know what a piledriver is?
ME: /giggle NO /giggle

Scene 2: Some other meeting, I don’t remember
UNNAMED INDIVIDUAL: Wow! Great photo!
ME: Thanks.
UNNAMED INDIVIDUAL: I mean that’s a real money shot!
ME: HAHAHAHAHA!

Scene 3: I don’t know, someplace or another. With people. Talking.
UNNAMED INDIVIDUAL #1: Oooh! So what did he get you?
UNNAMED INDIVIDUAL #2: He gave me a pearl necklace!
ME: WOULD YOU PEOPLE STOP TALKING PLEASE

But that frustration found an inglorious death on Friday afternoon on Hole #14 as I dropped a 40 foot putt for birdie, getting our team to 10 under and bringing home the championship by one shot, winning the lifelong hatred and respect of the other 140 players in the banquet hall.

I have to admit, of all my lifelong accomplishments (and they are MANY, the top few being:
1. I NEVER believed it was butter. NOT. FOR. AN. INSTANT.
2. I know how to juggle.
3. I’ve never received a pearl necklace.)
winning this tournament now sits firmly at the top of the heap. I can say unequivocally that I love this trophy more than any other thing in the world, which is saying a lot, being as how I have a son. But it really means more.

Oh, I have a daughter, too. She’s only 2 or 3, so you can understand how I might forget that, get off my back already.

Anyway, golf. I mean, how many other sports besides bowling and NASCAR does alcoholic beverage consumption actually IMPROVE your performance? Hmm? Hmm?

Though by the end of the day, I have to admit that I eventually conceded the point that beer is indeed a gateway drink. No question, it leads the user to harder substances, like Ketel One and the semi-coagulated juice at the bottom of the prime rib pan.