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Wednesday, July 17, 2019

More Golf


More Golf


Well it is either golf or nothing at all, so…golf.

I was back on the course for the first time after several weeks at the Shore.  You might think that after three or four weeks of not playing I would have stunk the place out.  Actually, sometimes for us duffers, time off allows you to forget all those bad habits and play better.

Today that was the way.  I was hitting the ball very well…for me that is.  The biggest problem was with the sun, my eyesight, and playing on my own, I did not see where almost every shot went.  I knew I hit it well and the general direction, but did not find most balls until I about tripped over them.

Several shots were on the green, a good place to be, but even though I thought the shots were good, it takes some of the enjoyment away to not immediately see the result.

The next problem I encountered is it was FLAMING HOT.  I did not tee off until 11:30, pretty much peak heat of the day.  It was 95, no breeze and humid as all not-Heaven.

I took regular water breaks and rested in the shade when I could.  I think I was the only golfer on the front nine.  On the eight hole, I waited while grounds people were watering the green.  After about 10 minutes I decided to go ahead and hit even though they did not stop the watering.  As I was lining up my shot, the sprinklers went off on my tee area.  I think they were trying to turn off the sprinklers on the green and hit the tee sprinklers instead.

Their mistake was welcome as I let the sprinklers make several passes at me before I hit.

I barely dragged my behind to the finish, I only played nine…eighteen and I would have melted.  My reward was going to be a tall vodka tonic, but the new grill “Bar” still did not have a liquor license.  I had vodka at home, so my reward just had to wait a bit.

I sipped the drink while still dripping wet and barely able to move.  I will think twice before playing in that heat again.

Oh yeah, I shot 43 for nine holes.  Not bad for an old man.


Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Road Rage Rant


Road Rage Rant
What is it with people that just do not want to give an inch on the highway?  Merging into a traffic-jammed turnpike and there is always some scuzzbag that refuses to let you in.  These scuzzbags generally have NY plates and or drive a BMW…I guess they ae just better than everyone else. 

What do they expect, I’m not allowed on the highway?  If everyone was a scuzzbag that would be the case.  Not surprisingly when you allow these same scuzzbags into a merging lane, they never give you the thank-you wave.

Here is one that is really the squeaky chalk on my blackboard; waiting at a traffic light to turn left, no one behind me, and there is a line across the way about 18 miles deep.  If I cannot make the left turn, I’ll have to wait in the intersection until the light turns back to red.  You might think the first car across the way would delay enough for me to make my left turn. 

You would think wrong. 

NO!! They stomp on the gas as soon as the light turns, they actually start to creep when it is amber on the other side because GOD forbid I turn in front and his trip is delayed an eighteenth of a second…better I wait four minutes in the intersection than this asshat be delayed an eighteenth of a second.

The other day, same above situation, and I stomped on the gas to beat the asshat that was going straight.  The dude actually leaned on his horn and steered towards me like to ram my car, before turning away at the last second.

He sure taught me a lesson!

Here is another tool-for-a-brain that should be banned from my roads.  Coming home from an errand, this asswipe has to tailgate me all the way to my turn off.  Hell, I was only doing ten MPH above the limit. 

As I slowed down to turn right into my development, he sped up and ran within a foot of my rear end without veering to the left.

Taught me another lesson.

Sometimes when these D-bags tailgate me, I pull to the side of the road and let them pass, when I catch up at the next stoplight, I make sure to beep and wave.

Sometimes I wave with one finger.

Sunday, July 14, 2019

I MIGHT BE A PRICK!

I MIGHT BE A PRICK!

I might be a prick.  I don’t think I am a prick, but I just might be.  Why you ask, do I think I might be a prick?

I am not a wealthy man, but I can afford a buck.  Giving one dollar to a worthy cause will not affect my life style.  I should be willing to give a dollar to worthy causes, but apparently I am a prick.

Yesterday Mrs. C and I went grocery shopping.  When my bill was rung up, the cashier asked me, “Would you like to donate a dollar to the Something Something Blah Blah Blah FOR CHILDREN?

I have no idea what this charity was for.  All I heard was FOR CHILDREN.  What cause that ends in FOR CHILDREN would not be worth handing over a single dollar?  Probably none, except apparently I am a prick.

“No thank you, I don’t want to give a measly dollar to the Something Something Blah Blah Blah FOR CHILDREN, because I am a prick!”

The thing is, I just don’t like being hit up for a charity when I am not expecting it.  I don’t like that the store hits me up when I am running up a credit charge.  I don’t like the fact that I won’t be able to declare my contribution as a tax deduction, but the store probably will.  I give a buck and one million other blindsided customers give a buck and the CEO of the grocery store gets his picture in the paper handing over a tax deductible check for $1 million dollars. 

It just bothers me…but then I am a prick.

I give to charities from time to time.  I give to charities I care about, charities that hit close to my home.  If I give a buck to the store, it is one dollar less I have to give to my charities; so I say no and feel like a prick!

“No thank you, I don’t want to give a measly dollar to the Something Something Blah Blah Blah FOR CHILDREN, because I am a prick!”

After the grocery store we went to “Boston Market” to take home our dinner.  Checking out I was asked,

“Would you like to donate a dollar to the CHILDRENS FUND for something something?”

Mrs. C immediately pulled me by the arm, said no thank you and dragged me out of the store before I went on a rant to some poor 17 year old cashier who was only doing her job.

The next time I am asked for a dollar while checking out of a store I am going to ask to see the manager.  When he shows up I am going to ask him if he would like to donate a dollar to the Lustgarten Foundation to find a cure for pancreatic cancer.  If he says no I will just shake his hand and say “Well let’s just call it a draw then.”

If he says yes, I’ll do the same thing.

At least then I won’t feel like a prick.
re-run from July 2015