Well, Color Me Happy! My Team Somehow Pulled Off First Place...

This morning amidst a steady, light rain, my team and I teed off at 9:15 AM with great trepidation. There was loud thunder off to the left and off to the right, but we never saw any lightning, so play was never interrupted. I thought that we'd surely hear the sirens from the clubhouse, but they never sounded. We played on, thinking that we were going to have the worst score of all the teams because we were all playing horribly. The air was so heavy you could have cut it with a knife and the balls weren't going as far as they should have. I found myself having to *club up* on nearly every shot and every shot seemed to play out like a game of craps.

Today was another *shamble* with two *net balls* instead of only one, like we had yesterday. The teams were different too, but once again, I made out like a bandit and scored an awesome team of players. Today I only had one Eagle, 2 Birdies and 3 Pars. Boo Hoo! (whatever!) It was great and I enjoyed the entire tournament thoroughly.

However, today, with the all the wet weather, I had to dress for the rain and knew my hair would get soaked, which makes me resemble a wet rat. It's not pretty, but I didn't care. I was there to play real golf today, with real diehard players and it was such a great feeling being a winner for once. I could seriously get used to this.

I also had an epiphany. I like playing with everyone but my own Mr. Snoots. I know. It sounds really mean, doesn't it? But honestly, the man cannot quit telling me what I'm doing wrong the entire time we play together. Everyone else praises me for every shot and every putt, good or bad, which somehow makes me (or allows me) to play better. If Mr. Snoots could just figure this out we'd be great together. But, alas, I fear he cannot and will not ever be able to be different. This will certainly limit our time playing golf together.

The only thing that really ruffled my feathers a bit today, was the two men on our team insisted on telling me precisely where to putt my ball. You know. Like I didn't have the sense to do it on my own. Yesterday, I sank 16 of 18 putts. Today, I sank 5 putts out of 18. Hmmmmm… There's your sign, huh?

When someone insists on telling you where to putt, I think they have no idea how they are undermining your play, but they are. Of course, they think they are being oh-so-helpful, but it's almost insulting when (without invitation) they say, "Firm stroke right here to this spot." For me, it's like the freaking *kiss of death* and then I usually rocket launch my 3 foot putt to destinations unknown. Thanks a lot guys, but I think I can handle this all on my own, unless you'd like for me to line YOUR putts up for you....

Snort! ~ OR ~ The Summation Of My Golf Game

Yesterday was spectacular as far as weather goes, but we've been fooled into a false Spring before, so I'm holding judgement for a while yet. It's not normal for everything to be in full bloom this early. You know. As in maybe April and definitely May, but not, I repeat, NOT March. This here is Texas, not Cal-i-forn-i-a. It was so hot today that you could almost consider frying an egg on the blacktop.






As we all know, Snooty wilts in the heat. I wilted all day, which is never, never, ever a good thing for my golf game nor my disposition. It was hot and extremely slow because the two of us were behind a fivesome (actually two fivesomes) of dear little old men that I normally just adore. Yesterday, I wanted to throttle them. They had two groups of five back to back and wouldn't even look at us to wave us on to *play through*. Umm. Can we talk? We were a twosome. What part of that is difficult to understand? It's common golf course ettiquette for a slow and/or large group of golfers, to wave on those behind them, who have been waiting FREAKING FOREVER! Every. Single. Solitary. Hole.


By the time we made the turn (of the century), going from #9 to #10, we were having to wait even longer, which we just aren't used to out here, which resulted in the dreaded getting-cold-on-your-swing thing... Can you see where I'm going with this? It was painfully slow and the twosome behind us were *dogging* us, which makes me as nervous as a cat on crack.


Okay, FINE! My game was non-exsistent yesterday and I'm trying to blame it on everything and everyone but myself. No. Wait. It's actually The Curse Of Breaking 100. Yup. That's it. Once you break 100, then you take a huge step forward. Unfortunately, you then get to take 10 steps back. It volleys back and forth like this for a while, as it inflates your ego like a balloon, then lets it out like Grandma with a helium balloon. All weird and squeaky like. Very much like Charles Barkley's golf swing. Like a big Eeeeek!





Wait. Wait! I've got it. My equalibrium is out of whack from the sinus infection, respiratory infection, and barking bronchitis.... I wish. The truth is that I have no excuse, really. It was just me having a worse than normal round while playing with Mr. Snoots for the first time in many months. Then, he had the audacity to tell me that I should keep a more accurate score when playing *Girly Golf*, since I was clearly unable to break 100. Uh-Huh. Uhhhhhh...


I would definitely call that a **Hot Snot Sundae With A Booger On Top**. Yes, after digesting that statement, we called it quits at the end of the 15th hole and parted ways. He went back to *the office* (AKA Escape Module) and I... went... shopping. Did I mention he shot 3 strokes less than me on the front nine? Did I?


When preparing to leave the club, I spotted one of the pros and asked him if he had time to give me a **Hot Snot Sundae With A Booger On Top** lesson, then I asked him to pardon my French. Wise Acre that he is, he said "Oh, I speak French". You just have to love a golf pro with a good sense of humor and the patience of Job. So, I leave you with this:




The 10 Unalterable Laws of Golf

1. Golf is a test of your skill against your opponent's luck.
2. Golfers who claim not to cheat, also lie.
3. If your opponent has trouble remembering whether he shot a six or a seven, he probably shot an eight.
4. There are only two kinds of bounces: unfair, and ones that went just the way you meant to play them.
5. The shortest distance between any two points on a golf course, is a straight line: A straight line that passes through a very large tree.
6. If you are unable to keep your head still, and you look up, causing a bad shot, you will look down again at the exact moment when you should be watching the ball if you ever want to find it again.
7. Bad shots always come in threes. If you believe that you performed your fourth bad shot in a row, you're wrong: it's actually the first of the next group of three.
8. If it ain't broke, try changing your grip.
9. Any ball that you can see in the rough from more than 2 feet away, isn't yours.
10. No matter how badly you are currently playing, it's always possible to play worse.

Wooo Hooooo! Show Me The Money Baby....

Occasionally, (albeit it seldom) I have moments of clarity when playing golf. I had the absolute best time at the golf tournament! In addition to having a good time, my partner & I won 2nd Place on Saturday (which meant we actually won green back dollars!). Thankfully, I had GREAT partners on both Saturday & Sunday. Since my handicap is like the highest at our club (of anyone), it actually wound up being the perk that catapulted us into 2nd Place. Yeeee Haaaaaw! Most unfortunately, my next partner & I didn't do so well on Sunday.

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.