On Friday, when everyone arrived, we all checked in and claimed our *adjacent spaces* at Motel Hell. There are two *sides* to the Bates Motel Hell and we were all on the same side, which was probably a*Good Thing*, since we are the most intrusive group of people ever. It seems as if every time we go as a group to play in a golf tourney somewhere, we seem to overtake the complete area we are currently occupying space in. Of course, someone is always inebriated enough to invite the innocent bystanders who always seem to decline.
So, on Friday night (before the tournament began) most of us, the women, stayed up almost all night. I finally yelled "Timber" and fell into bed next to Mr. Snooty (who had gone to bed around 9:00 PM) @ 4:30 in the morning. We were teeing off @ 8:30 AM on Saturday morning, so perhaps this wasn't the wisest of decisions, but OMG! It was Fun, Fun, Fun till Daddy took the T-Bird away. All the hubbys went out like a light around Midnight, but we were having too much fun, so we made the decision to stay up and *partay*, which we did in a most stellar manner. My partner for Saturday disappeared with a pleasant *Nite Nite* around 11:00 PM, which rather worried me, as I was all-in on the staying up all night thing. I ended up having gotten 2 hours of sleep, but I got up & dressed & ready to go @ 6:30 AM. I suppose I can sleep when I die, eh?
So, Mr. Snooty & I got up, dressed, and went off to the nearby town to seek out breakfast (you know... fuel) for the day. I had my coffee and *Breakfast On A Bun* and I was completely pumped up for the day's game. We raced back to the Bates Motel, gathered up our required *tools of the trade*, made sure we had plentiful containers of everyone's preferred poison, gargantuan amounts of ice, and headed for the golf course.When I play golf, everything must go according to my plan or I have major issues. (Oh, sure... there's a big surprise.) I'm certain that my OCD plays an important role here, so I'm quite careful to plan everything precisely. It's almost like a recipe of sorts. Without all the proper ingredients, I melt down like the Wicked Witch of the West. Not wanting to launch that rocket, I plan very carefully so that this doesn't happen. Although my plan doesn't always go the way I'd like for it to (as in San Saba, which apparently everyone on God's Green Earth has heard some version of by now), on occasion I hit The Mark. During this tournament, I freaking SCORED!!! Well... on Saturday, anyway. One out of two ain't bad, huh? I owe this amazing win to my partner Dan B., who is like the most FUN, FUN, FUN partner I've ever had besides Mr. Snooty. He never tried to tell me what to do, nor did he try to change my swing or my stroke, or whatever. I knew I was totally his greatest fan when he added like a pint of Vodka to my 8-ounce cup, at the turn, lol. In addition to that, he was a completely Bad Ass Playa, which (for some unknown reason) made me play better.Once the Saturday round was finished, we all headed back to the Bates Motel to make preparations for our dinner. I provided smoked salmon, cream cheese, chopped red onions, chopped hard boiled eggs and capers, which all disappeared much more quickly than I'd anticipated. So, no wasted food... which made me a happy camper.You would be shocked how much I'd taken of the salmon/cream cheese dish & trimmings. I mean, we'd all had scrumptious cheeseburgers at the course (for lunch), which were included in the price of play, and believe me, they were amazingly good. So, when we arrived back @ The Bates Motel Hell, I was shocked at the consumption of food. I mean, I couldn't eat a thing, so I just busied myself making whores ovaries for everyone else. But, I enjoy that, as long as I'm lavished with compliments. You know... everyone needs a little *stroking* now & then. There's absolutely NOTHING wrong with that. Right? Right.So, we had a major feast Saturday night, which included rib eye steaks (instead of beef tenderloin), a shrimp boil with red potatoes, corn-on-the-cob & Polish sausage, potato salad, and German Chocolate Cake for dessert. Not a bad fare for the likes of the Bates Motel Hell. No one went to bed hungry, for sure.Sunday, we had another 8:30 AM tee time, but I got a good night's rest on Saturday night, once the outside music was turned down to a dull roar. Thank Gawd. Also, the cook was at the course early enough to feed us breakfast burritos before we teed off and they were absolutely delicioso. Doubtless we all were in dire need of fuel for the day's festivities.Because I was going to be driving the 3 hours home after our round, I didn't drink (much). Besides, we'd already paid for an extra day @ Motel Hell, so that we could go back after we finished our round... to rest, get cleaned up & pack up. Yes, it was that cheap. Anyway, neither Mr. Snooty nor myself won a copper penny on Sunday, but we all had fun. Oh, except for the one incident (that lasted throughout the game) with the male partner on the other team of our foursome. I didn't know him well but had played with his wife the day before & she was a real sweetheart. She was also the other half of the team that won 1st place and is really an excellent golfer. I think the worst she said all day was "Darn". Then, there were stories about him (her hubby) from Saturday. Like... he doesn't like music playing, people talking, making any kind of noise whatsoever, when he's making his tee shot. You know, like at professional PGA type golf tournaments. You're not even allowed to breathe or swallow. However, in the real world like Clyde, Texas... shit happens. Which gives you the right to act like a complete jerk, blaming everyone else instead of yourself for bad shots? Let me clarify this. His partner & I were whispering, so his bad shot was our fault. At first I thought he was joking, but he really rather lost his cool on a very asshole-ish level. His partner didn't take it from him & let it roll right off her back.
Unfortunately, being the scorpian that I am, I couldn't let it go. I talked his partner (my friend) into getting some duct tape out of her car and I slapped a large piece across my mouth at every tee. I felt that was the only way he would not be able to blame me repeatedly. Furthermore, I thought I was being funny, even though I never spoke to the a$$hole again. Not. One. Word. However, I do remember concentrating on every one of his putts, thinking "miss it, miss it, miss it". He did, but I never uttered a word out loud or directed at him. The general consensus after the second day, was that they won't be asked back next year. This group likes to have fun and if you can't do that, then you simply don't belong with our group. We are all very laid back and are not anal retentive jerks. Period.
PS: I apologize for not visiting any blogs or commenting or posting on mine. Somehow, I put my back out and now I can't even sit at the computer. I've been in bed for two days and can't get in to the soft touch Chiropractor until tomorrow. I am currently living in Hell, but will let you know when I get out. Right now, I'm not a happy camper and now I'm going back to bed.