Golf And Truckin'

I was asked to play in a golf scramble yesterday, no doubt because of my wild tee shots and skull-tastic wedge shots.

I drove the ball like a man possessed. We probably used my tee shot 75% of the time. I hit a couple putts for us, had zero approach shots worth a shit, and eagled a hole on my own for the team. I should note that I hit my tee shot with too much draw but kicked off the trees 260yds out, hit my second shot left and hit a tree that knocked me right out in front of the green, and hit a bump and run shot with way too much run that smacked the flag and dropped. Not exactly pretty, but it was still an eagle.

The outing was planned by either Sarah Palin's baby or my company's senior management. Seriously, whoever organized this didn't just drop the ball, they threw it at the ground like a Joey Harrington pass.

As was explained to me when I was asked to play, the outing was a yearly thing and it was always a great time. What they lacked in great prizes they made up for in a great dinner afterwards and free drinks throughout the day. Alright, I thought. Free booze, golf, and a nice steak dinner sounded good to me. Besides, it was paid for and I was substituting last second. I wouldn't be expected to pay.

No drinks were free on the course. You paid for water, beer, or pop. Prizes were what I expected, with the winners getting nothing more than a free entry fee for next year. Dinner was a burger or a chicken sandwich.

Here is where it got extra retarded.

They had a food Nazi standing near the burgers and chicken informing you that you were only allowed one burger OR one chicken sandwich. No seconds, not one of each, just one. There was nothing to dress the burgers or sandwich's except ketchup. No cheese, lettuce, tomato, whatever. The food Nazi had a huge attitude as well.

At the dinner portion you could get a free bud light draft, but anyone wanting a pop from the gun had to pay.

My friend who invited me was surprised at how different it was this year. I ate my single hamburger and left. At least it was free for me. I feel bad for everyone else who played, most of which were doing it for support of the private school benefiting, but got virtually nothing for their hard earned money.

The funny thing is I had backed out of an offer to play in a scramble the same day because it was probably going to be like the one I played. I would have had to pay for it and declined. In the end I didn't have to pay but ended up in a worse outing.

The weather was good, however, and a couple good things happened while I was out golfing. The future 4th place finishers in the Big Ten, Michigan State University, won easily and Pauly put up his September issue of Truckin'.

There are a couple interesting authors this go around. In particular, I'd suggest the story of Fatty McLiarson. That one had me snorting a couple times.


September 2008, Vol. 7, Issue 9

Welcome back to another issue of Truckin'. We have a six-pack of stories this month.

1. Feline Existentialism by Paul McGuire
On the third day of Prozac? That pretty much summed up my visit to the afternoon shift. The stripper was drunk, sedated on happy pills, sloppy, and slurring her speech like Albert Finney at happy hour... More

2. A Different God by Nick Cantwell
The slow walk along the dusty path was always a time for reflection. Reflection on his life, his family and his standing. But as ever, his thoughts turned to his loss. His daughter had only been nine when the disease had taken her. And since that day, he had walked the same path three or four times a day. Asking questions. And hoping to receive answers... More

3. One Night Out Part III: 120 Minutes in Sodom by Sigge S. Amdal
A show came on and six little dancers brushed past us from the dressing room. Barely legal naked nymphs with eyes too predatory for my liking. Reptile folk with nice legs, ripe breasts and hands long into your pockets. The moment our over-priced beer arrived, in slender glasses akin to lab equipment, my phone rang... More

4. Fatty McLiaraon by Bob Respert
Emily and I had been talking for quite some time over an instant messenger on the computer. Her in ski-country and me in the suck-belt. Ugh, the Midwest. What a fucking dump. Nice job basing almost your entire future existence on the American factory worker and his union. Well played, Midwest. I can see the abandoned factories now... More

5. Journey of 35,000 Miles Began with One Bong Hit by Rob Hogan
I was surrounded by a room full of strangers who shared in my pathetic tales of a failed marriage, while enthralling me with their own stories of bad relationships and piss poor decisions. It was an instant camaraderie that connected us on the most basic of human levels. For once in my sad excuse for a life, I felt like I belonged... More

6. The Long by Dan England
The ridge looked like the back of a stegosaurus. It was long and thin, yet it also had many long, technical towers about three times our size that we would have to climb over. And once we got on the ridge, there was no getting off. No wonder many climbers considered it the toughest ridge in all of Colorado... More