Tuesday, September 2, 2008

In which I torture myself and learn a lesson in futility

Saturday I went golfing.

That in itself should be enough of an explanation for my title, but alas, not a very good blog post. It started out so well too. It was a lovely Saturday. I went with Randy and my good friend Ber to Spanish Oaks. Its a nice course. I enjoy it. It was delightfully sunny, but not too hot. Ber loaded us down with all types of "cart-goodies". I remembered my camera for once. It was a good first hole; a little rough off the tee, but no biggie. I was gonna have fun with people I love, stuff my face, get some exercise and work on my tan. All in all it seemed like it was going to be a pretty good time.

Then the second hole happened and in succession I started to have a complete meltdown. Not only could I not get off the tee but I couldn't hit any sort of second shot either. At first I tried to distract myself from my dismal attempts to swing a club by sticking licorice up Ber's nose and tripping on my own footwear but even that started to lose some luster after the state of suck continued. To make matters worse, Ber pretty much had the best 18 holes I've ever seen her play. If we only could have combined her game with my chipping and putting (the only thing redeming in any form throughout the day) we would have been sensational!! I noticed as my frustration and bitterness ensued that Ber started to get very quiet, shrinking to her side of the cart, perhaps, much like a frightened animal, that I might not notice her and thus not gouge her eyes out and wear them like olives on my fingers.

To include the preverbial cherry on top of my whip cream sundae of steaming crap, I had waited to get the camera out for the sun to get a bit lower and by the time it should have been perfect, big dark yucky clouds moved in and I only got one decent picture of the entire day. Add that to the fact that my dinner after at Red Robin was an equal disappointment the day was almost a complete bust!

Notice I did say ALMOST. There WERE some redeeming factors. I did say I got to spend time with two people I adore a whole lot, even while pissy. Randy as always was very patient, and tried to cheer me up and help me out. Ber totally could have rubbed my face into my sudden lack of complete hand-eye coordination, especially when her game was going so well, and never did. I really did work on my tan and ate a lot of junk food and I'm sure I burn just as many calories when I throw my clubs as when I actually hit something. And yes I realize I included eating junk food and burning calories in the same breath, but thats cause I would eat the junk food regardless. The burning off of those aforementioned calories is just a bonus. See... not so bad afterall.


SuziQ said...

Thanks for the laugh!

FOODIE said...

It's true...I was afraid...very afraid!!! If only one of those par putts would have gone in the stupid hole, I might have had more to rub in your face, and actually, therefore, dunnit!!!