i've never hit a hole-in-one but i've hit a guy... which is way more satisfying
i might have stretched the truth a little when i bragged to fellow co-workers of my great skills on the golf course. and by 'stretch the truth', i mean blatantly, white-tongue, flat-out, lied. i am not, in any sense of the game, a good golfer. i dont think i'd even consider myself a golfer - maybe just a girl that likes (and by likes, i mean hates) to golf.
i'll tell you the problems or the major, unreachable itches that are golf, to me.
a. i, in all aspects of ball-contact-required sports, have no eye-foot/hand/head/knee/any other body part used to play out such games coordination. none. i may be the only human being, besides the wheelchair-restrained, that has struck out at high school kickball. so the concept of hitting a little ball no bigger than a decent sized piece of cheese with a club no bigger than a really long pen is incomparable to someone such as myself.
b. i would like to set the record straight, i cannot see worth a damn. combined with my short attention span, that bright fuck we call a sun, and a little white ball (grant it, i can get one of those neon yellow balls but i dont want to look more lame than i already do), i'm practically out of the game after my first drive. (and being that my eyes and my brain are so close together, they usually side with one other and spoil what little optimism i do have) so the chances of me enjoying any part of this little game of 'where the fuck is my god damn ball!?!' is slim to none. and by 'slim to none', i mean 'none'.
c. and why is it we only play golf when it's 0% wind chill and 90 degrees? i swear the sun to me is like one of those son-of-a-bitch rain clouds that follow those unlucky bastards around constantly raining on their heads. only it's shining its miserable, hot rays of this-is-a-little-taste-of-hell-so-get-used-to-it death and I am that unlucky bastard.. and no visor, no hat, no pair of sunglasses will help my sun-loathing self.
any why is any of this relevant? my company is having a work-sponsored golf outing in a few weeks. and of course it's insert-foot-into-mouth (or is it?) time. i could bite the bullet, take the last tee time, cross my fingers, (maybe feeding the homeless the night before could help the karma a little), and take a shot (pun intended) (by the way, did you know that the pun is the lowest form of humor?), and see how it goes down... maybe even have a little fun. or do i bail out now - maybe a last minute death in the family or chinese food poisoning?
i'll take the latter.
i'll tell you the problems or the major, unreachable itches that are golf, to me.
a. i, in all aspects of ball-contact-required sports, have no eye-foot/hand/head/knee/any other body part used to play out such games coordination. none. i may be the only human being, besides the wheelchair-restrained, that has struck out at high school kickball. so the concept of hitting a little ball no bigger than a decent sized piece of cheese with a club no bigger than a really long pen is incomparable to someone such as myself.
b. i would like to set the record straight, i cannot see worth a damn. combined with my short attention span, that bright fuck we call a sun, and a little white ball (grant it, i can get one of those neon yellow balls but i dont want to look more lame than i already do), i'm practically out of the game after my first drive. (and being that my eyes and my brain are so close together, they usually side with one other and spoil what little optimism i do have) so the chances of me enjoying any part of this little game of 'where the fuck is my god damn ball!?!' is slim to none. and by 'slim to none', i mean 'none'.
c. and why is it we only play golf when it's 0% wind chill and 90 degrees? i swear the sun to me is like one of those son-of-a-bitch rain clouds that follow those unlucky bastards around constantly raining on their heads. only it's shining its miserable, hot rays of this-is-a-little-taste-of-hell-so-get-used-to-it death and I am that unlucky bastard.. and no visor, no hat, no pair of sunglasses will help my sun-loathing self.
any why is any of this relevant? my company is having a work-sponsored golf outing in a few weeks. and of course it's insert-foot-into-mouth (or is it?) time. i could bite the bullet, take the last tee time, cross my fingers, (maybe feeding the homeless the night before could help the karma a little), and take a shot (pun intended) (by the way, did you know that the pun is the lowest form of humor?), and see how it goes down... maybe even have a little fun. or do i bail out now - maybe a last minute death in the family or chinese food poisoning?
i'll take the latter.
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