I had my annual golf outing last weekend, where some great people help raise money for my fallen fraternity brother, Quincy. It’s for a great cause, plus as a side bonus, I get to see all the drunken assholes (I mean that in a good way) I lived/was incarcerated with in college. I knew I was off to a great start when I pulled into the parking lot at 9:30 and seven guys were pounding Busch Lights. Ah, just like old times, except none of us ever got up that early before.
My plan to pace myself was destroyed when on the fourth hole I cracked my third beer, so away we go! I am an idiot, so I forgot my clubs and borrowed my Dad’s on the way to the outing – either new clubs or voodoo magic must have been involved, because my team actually used a good amount of my shots. That said I learned I can’t drive straight (in golf or after a few cold ones, am I right? Boooo bad joke), chip or go two holes without ruining someone’s shot by turning on the reverse beeper on the golf cart. That and undoing the strap that holds people’s clubs makes me laugh every single time. The rage from someone pulling away and dumping their clubs is just fantastic. I eventually got enough beers in me to pull out the sound effect app on my phone and release a nice air horn during the backswings. Oh and if there is dead grass off the tee boxes, me and the other drunk guys pissing all over that course don’t know what you’re talking about.
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