War. What is it good for, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.........
So, golf. For now, yeah, that'll work.
When I find myself in times of trouble, 18 holes they come to me, Speaking words of disdain, let it be, let it be.
Golf is my "go to hell world, at least for 3, 4, 5 hours." I'm out here in the green, with the blue above, with the buddies next to me. Animals. Most I ain't skeered of, but, hit one in the woods, yep, there's a copperhead or two. Thus, I don't go after 'em. My take, "Fitty cents at WalMart" (I buy really cheap golf balls.)
I've a buddy. My buddy has done really really well in keeping his dollars in his billfold over his lifetime. I ain't. He has. So, bad boy bad boy, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when it's time for you (to tee off). Basta looks for broken tees. I turd you not. He's too dadgum cheap to buy tees. (Some, $1.69 a bag in the clubhouse, lastya a month or so.) I find humor in this. Kinda.
The progression of life. Usedta be, when you had to pee on the golf course 'no parking by the sewer sign, hot dog, my razor's broke, water drippin' up the spout, but I don't care, let it all hang out.' You go anywhere, anytime. Now, you pee pee in public, yep, you're at risk of being charged with indecent exposure, up to six months in jail, and it can possibly be turned into a felony (I ain't kidding) and you could be put on a sexual offender list.
Bad boy bad boy, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when the bladder's about to unglue....... Well. I find a tree. Hopefully a wide one. Hopefully no one will see. All of us old farts do. You see, if you're an old man, and you're in WalMart, on the East side of the building, and the restroom is on the West side, you in heap big trouble. Leak a bit at the very least. Maybe even go quite a bit, so, you quickly buy something, hold the plastic bag infrtonta ya so no one sees, and you scurry home.
Women. What do women do? Bad girl bad girl, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when it's pee time for you? Well... most will drive up to the clubhouse. I don't see how they can be on the hole the farthest away, and make it to the clubhouse. Some can't. There's a wooden shack on our course where the pump house is, you can even drive through it. It's kinda stinky there. I'm thinking that's where all the female sexual offenders go.
Although, there was one recently. A gal. I feel fairly certain alcohol was involved. 18th hole, RIGHT next to the clubhouse. Bad girl bad girl whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna to if there's not enough time for you..... well, this one 'hid' behind a 6 inch wide tree and let 'er rip. Right infronta God and all fifteen of us watching from the deck. Victor, are you really writing about this? Reader, are you really reading about this?
I've even got a buddy that keeps a small roll of TP in his golf bag. You're kidding. Nope. Ain't. Golf is funny that way, sometimes you just have some crappy rounds.
When. Where. Bad boy bad boy where you gonna go, where you gonna go when you gotta let go..... Hopefully, outta eyesight of houses. Outta eyesight of women, children. Nowadays, cops.
In this gentleman's game of golf, when a player in your party is getting read to tee off, no noise, it's unwritten, but you don't get out a club, risk a clanking noise as he swings. You don't light a cig, pop a beer. Worst of all, you don't talk. To be continued.
Other day, buddy of mine hit a really really bad shot. So what's bad boy bad boy, whatcha gonna say, whatcha gonna say when the ball goes astray. "Well, I thought I had everything under control, then just as I started to swing I HEAR THIS WATERFALL"... so, yep, that's added to the list. No pee pee when they swingy.
Over the years, the eyeballs see a lot. One leg on grass, one in the sand, swing, fall down. Cart in pond. Yep, twice since I've worked at our course. Guy hit ball from white tees, ball hit small, red, circular marker on the ground where women tee off from, ball come RIGHT back at his head. He ducked, luckily, in time. We 'sex offenders' peed a bit in our pants laughing at him. I can't tell you Nubert's real name though.
Thrown clubs. Profanity. Broken clubs in fit of anger. Hole in one. Hole in twelve, thus, we enforced the 'triple bogey is the worst you can score' rule. Geese chasing golfer. Golfer chasing geese. Beautiful blue heron RIGHT in the way on the 18th tee box. Wait. Wait. Wait. Finally he leaves. We see momma and poppa goose, guarding their hatching nest. You come close, they squawk at you LOUDLY, as if, say, it's midnight, you were supposed to be home at 8, and your spouse meets you at the door. That loud.
We've seen, said geese, goose, have duckings. Cute as can be. Mom, pop, 7, 8, 12 ducklings in a row. Off they walk. In they swim. In order. Always. In a millisecond (say, 6, 8 rounds), baby geese turn into regular regular big ole geese, and off they go. Forever. So you sit and wonder. Why, why Lord do we have to wait until they graduate from college, or, finally decide to get off the couch, quit playing Play Station 2, get a job and move out. The geese. They born. They follow. For a short. Shazam. They gone.
Bad boy bad boy, whatcha gonna do, golfed for three hours, now whatcha gonna do? Well, back in the day, we'd gather around a table out in the pretty blue, talk Camero's, Mustangs, the hated Yankees, the endowment of a specific lass (sorry. Kinda. Remember? We're sexual offenders now that we pee by tree. Won't happen again. Promise.) But today, since we're now of legal age to bitch about the Government, we do. And we talk of knee replacements, hip replacements, the new $80 vibrating massage tool we bought at WallyWorld so we can use it on our neck just to enable us to go, play, pee behind trees, and of course, the endowment of a specific lass. (scroll to sex offenders). The times they are a changin'. And, we all have two or three Cokes, then go home. Cokes make one pee a lot. Old men keep cups in car for that specific reason. You ride with one, no drinky from any cup laying around.
Apologies, kinda, for this blog. Respite from real world was needed though.
Bad boy bad boy, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when you pee behind a tree, they see, and they come for you.
You were seen 'going to the restroom in public' behind a tree on hole #7.... You have the right to remain silent....... Now, put your hands behind your back." But officer, I gotta go bad, can I keep one hand..... NO!
Love, Victurd
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