So I woke up yesterday with several intentions, such as cleaning the bedroom, cleaning the office, finishing the laundry, doing the dishes, taking the dry cleaning to the store, and playing golf. I ended up doing the dishes and playing golf.
Before I played, however, I stopped and looked at some new drivers. I ended up getting fitted for Callaway’s Great Big Bertha II driver. It felt nice to hit, so I bought one and then headed for the course.
I happened to be looking at the local rules printed on the back of the scorecard when I noticed Rule 3, which states:
Environmentally-Sensitive Areas are defined as any hole, cast or runway reasonably believed to have been occupied by or made by a burrowing owl. Play therefrom is PROHIBITED. Relief MUST betaken pursuant to Rule 25-1b or 25-1c, if located or lost therein.
I didn’t even know there was such a goddamn thing as a burrowing owl. And if there is such a thing, why in god’s name would it make its habitat on a golf course? I was determined at that point to find such a burrowing owl and see what they looked like.
A goose on the 9th hole got all up in my face hissing and trying to start some shit. I said, “I’ll kick your fucking head off if you come near me,” and it went away. Number 1: I hate geese almost as much as I hate pigeons. Number 2: If a goose wants a piece of me, he can go ahead and try, with the knowledge that I’ll apply a fucking 7 iron to his dome.
Also on hole 9: I was playing with 3 guys (a kid, his dad, and his grandpa) and we were about halfway up the hole (a 474 yard par 5), when the guys behind us teed off and a ball came rocketing into our group (we were over a small hill so they couldn’t see us). The grandpa is enraged, and tees up the ball that came flying in back in the direction of the tee box. He hits it back at them. I wish there was a rule in Whazz™ where, if you were close enough to another person’s ball, you could just hit it in any direction.
It was on the 14th hole that my odyssey for a burrowing owl was realized. I saw three of the critters come out of a “not-unlike-a-gopher” hole and start looking around as I passed. They were about the size of a blue jay, and just looking around crazily. I wanted to yell things at them. Things like, “Hey jackass, you’re an owl! Why live in the ground?!” or “Hey burrowing owl, eat my ass!” but after watching them for a few moments I just continued on my way.
The KMEL SummerJam was going on at the Shoreline Pavillion, whichy sits on a site right next to the course. It was quite eerie, though mostly funny, to be playing golf with a dad and grandpa while Busta Rhymes was telling everyone to get their damn hands up. Also, where all the bitches at (*women screaming*). So I got to play holes 7, 8, and 9 with Busta Rhymes musical accompaniament.
Not much else going on. After buying the driver I’m broke as a joke, and therefore I will be doing housework for the next two weeks until I have any money to go golfing again. Once Wirkuswhazz gets back from Da North we’ll compile our wedding pictures and get The Wedding Post out the door. If I have time later today I’ll get a zip file of my pictures out the door. And if you don’t get out my face, you’re going out the door.