Shooting 99 in Golf

 

Shooting 99 in Golf

 

I played golf today.  99.  Is 99 a good golf score for me?  Not great, but anything under 100 and I am pretty happy.   But today I did not shoot 99, today I played when the temperature was 99!  Make that ninety friggin nine! 

The weather geeks claimed that it actually feels like not 99, but 105. 

I don’t get that.  I’ve never been in a real temperature of 105.  101 is probably the hottest I can remember.  As I recall it felt like 101, because it WAS 101!  Same today, it felt like 99 because it WAS 99.

What? Oh you need to factor the heat humidity index to get a “Feels Like” temperature.  OK, except in the NY tristate area whenever the temperature is above 80 it is always humid.  How humid? Humid as f*ck, that’s how humid, so the heat humidity index means nothing to me.

Anyway today I played golf and it was 99 out.  I was the only person on the course.  JUST ME! Why? Because the heat humidity index “feels like” temperature scared the crap out of every golfer in the area.

Mrs. C did not want me to play, but I have a dentist appointment tomorrow at 9:30 and decided to leave the shore for home so I can make the appointment in the morning.  Might as well play golf then on the day before.

Mrs. C said it was too hot. 

I promised to only play nine holes and would take an electric cart and not pull my clubs in the heat.

I lied. 

Not intentionally, but I played my best golf since when I had no children and was able to play a lot of golf.  

I played nine holes in an hour and fifteen minutes.  Somedays when it is crowded and I pull my clubs an hour and fifteen would only get you past the third hole.

I brought lots of water, and the cart provided shade, so I decided to play more than nine.  After twelve holes I had a chance to breaking 90.  I have not broken 90 in 30 years, so I plodded on.

At the last hole, a par three, I needed only a five to break 90.  Even with the cart, my ass was dragging.  The heat felt like 99…because it WAS 99.

I hit the green, two putted for par and a final score of 87. 

87 in 99 at 75.

Hell yeah I’m bragging! Dragging, but bragging.

 

 

Dolphins Ospreys and Whales…Oh My!

 

Dolphins Ospreys and Whales…Oh My!

We are spending time at the beautiful New Jersey Shore.  Not the beach, not the ocean, in New Jersey it is “The Shore.” Don’t ask, I don’t know why.  In Jersey we do not fill our gas tanks, and we go to “The Shore”, oh yeah, and we have a diner in every town.

The beach today was a comfortable 75 degrees, the ocean a not so comfortable 55 degrees. 

I stayed out of the ocean.

What do you do at the shore when the water is 55 degrees?  You get tanned, you read a James Patterson book, do a bunch of crossword puzzles and listen to Meatloaf.  Well, everyone does not do that, but that is what I did today. 

I also look at the ocean.

Looking at the ocean is boring you say?  Yes, it can be.  It is relaxing, but it does get boring…unless you really look.  It helps if you look with binoculars.  There is not much to see just staring out to sea without binoculars.  With binoculars it can get interesting.

Today I was perusing a nothing to see ocean when I noticed way out there were several large schools of bunker.  To the naked eye they are just dark spots in the water.  Up close there are fish jumping.  Something must be making the bunker jump.

Sure enough, after watching the bunker school for a bit I spotted several dolphin feeding.  The dolphin moved on and a little later I saw a puff of sea spray. 

Whales!  Two of them.  Up close and personal with the binoculars they put on quite a show, at one point one came straight up out of the water in a feeding frenzy.  While the whales were feeding on bunker my vision was interrupted by a diving osprey who then flew away with his own bunker in its claws.

Just a quiet day at the Jersey shore.  Not much to do except relax.

Oh yeah, also dolphins, ospreys and whales.

Oh my!

 

Another Cranky Rant

 

Another Cranky Rant

 

That’s it, I’m taking my gloves off.  I’m tired of walking on word egg-shells and tap dancing around stuff that suddenly became forbidden to waltz through. 

I don’t get it and I’m done.  LGBTQ…wtf? I only can figure out a few of them.  Don’t use the “N” word.  Fine, what is it?  They won’t tell you because to do so would require you to use the actual word.  WTF?  Yeah, I said it, the “F” letter.  Pretty soon you won’t be able to use even the letters.

Oooh!  You said the “F” word letter!  Did you just use the “N” word letter instead of the “you know what”?  That means you are the “R” word!

Just now I read where an “L” word soccer player said in a ten-year-old tweet that she thought a certain ladies eyes looked like the “A” word.  Apparently, that was the “R” word, except I’ll bet the “L” word lady meant it as a compliment.  These days even a compliment can be deemed as “R” word.

Well, now I am fed up with the use of the “O” word.  You know the word.  I’m pretty sure it is used in a pejorative way.

He drives an “O” word car.  How is that meant to be nice.  It is pejorative.  I am 75 years the “O” word.  That can’t be meant in a nice way otherwise why would people sometimes say I am 75 years “young?”

I am offended by the use of the “O” word.  Well, not that “O” word, the other one. 

You know!

That “O” word is a good thing, it is the other “O” word I don’t like.  I am not sure if “He is the “O” word but he can still the “O” word” is good or not.  I think I object to the first “O” word.

Anyway, my thoughts just drifted.  Maybe because I am getting seasoned.  I am, after all, 75 years seasoned.

That’s it, from now on I declare the “O” word to be offensive.  You know, the offensive “O” word, not the other one. 

I prefer “Seasoned.”

If you disagree then you need to be cancelled!

I decree that from now on we use “Seasoned” instead of the offensive “O” word!

 

What?  I have to change the name of this blog?  That would be a pain in the “A” word.  Pretty sure that “seasoned” would only soon become the “S” word anyway.

So, never mind.

I apologize to anyone I may have offended by my use of several offensive letters.   I am ashamed of my insensitive self and intend to be better in the future.  I intend to attend sessions with a “C” (Not that “C”) in order to become a better version of myself.

I am sorry. 

 

 

 

 

Mrs. C the detective

 

Mrs. C the detective

 

“WTF…JOSEPH!”

Uh oh, this can not be good, not when she calls me Joseph.

“What?”

“Come here, how did this happen?”

She was in the dining room and one of the windows was smashed.  A rock had ripped through the screen and busted the first pane of the double pane storm window.

“WTF…I don’t know.  Have you pissed off any local teenager lately?”

“I don’t think so.”

Can anyone figure out what happened before I solve the mystery?  I’ll wait.  Anyone…

River?

No one?

OK, here it is.  The yard people were cutting the grass this day.  I was pretty sure that the mower had to kick a rock through the screen and the window.  Those blades can fling a rock like a bullet.

“Had to be the lawn mower.  The association should contact them, they will replace the window.”

“How do we prove it.”

“We don’t have to prove it, the window was fine yesterday, it was broken today while we were home, and we did not hear it because…the mowers are so flipping loud.”

“I still think we need to have proof.”

“Wait, lets check the Ring security camera.”

The Ring captured the mower making several passes near the window, but we could not see it shooting any rock.

“Wait, Mrs. C called, run it again and listen.”

 At 1 minute 10 seconds in, there was a slight click sound, barely audible.  At 1 minute 22 seconds there it was again.  We ran the clip over and over.

“Look, at the first click see that leaf move?”

“Yes, but it is way up high.  Unless like the Kennedy thing it is a ‘magic rock’.”

“Look at the second click, something seems to whiz by the tree, like a speck.”

It took three tries for me to see what she was seeing, and the speck was at window level.

“That’s it, but what was the first click, our imagination?”

“Maybe there were two rocks.”

I went out and looked up at where the leaf moved.  Sure enough, the facing up by the roof had a scratch and slight dent.  Nothing worth fixing, barely noticeable, but an explanation for the other click, and further confirmation of our lawnmower rock theory.

Mrs. C sent an email to the association.  She sent a copy of the video, a picture of the broken screen and window pane with the rock still there, along with a picture of the roof facing.  She carefully gave the exact times on the video to hear the clicks and see the movement.

“You know, I’m pretty sure all you have to do is tell them and say you have video proof from our security camera.  You don’t have to send them a copy and give them all the times to check.”

“Yeah, you're probably right, but after all the Perry Mason shows we’ve seen every morning, I just can’t help myself."

I’m pretty sure we will win our case!

 

MASK YOU A QUESTION?

 

MASK YOU A QUESTION?

For those of you who do not get this title, Mask you a question is New York for “May I ask you a question.”  New Yorkers don’t like to waste time with words so they tend to run them together.  For example, "Honest to God" is "Onstagod".

Anyway, May I ask you a question?  Do you wear a mask or not?

The CDC says if you are vaccinated you do not have to wear one, but who knows who has been vaccinated or not?  There are no tattoos on the forehead.   Who is safe?

I’m not all that sure that masks were ever that effective.  I say that because in New Jersey EVERYONE wore a mask EVERYWHERE, and our cases were still as high or higher than any state.

What the heck, when in doubt wear the mask.  For most people they could do no harm, only a bit uncomfortable.

The problem now is, and will be for a while at least, that when you do wear the mask there are people that give you the stink-eye, like

“Why are you wearing that mask, you indoctrinated fool!”

And if you don’t wear a mask there are people who point and tell you,

“You are being selfish; you could be killing my grandmother!”

I still wear a mask most of the time because I’d rather be a fool than to be accused of killing someone’s grandmother.

If I am asked, of course with much distain, why I am wearing a mask, I will simply reply,

“Because I just want to buy a few groceries with out pissing off as many people as possible, not sure why you even give a crap.”

Is there anything in this country that is no longer political? 

Wear a mask, you’re a liberal.  Don’t wear a mask you are a racist conservative pig.  Keep the schools closed …liberal.  Open the schools…pig.  Make the OK sign…racist.  Fly the American flag…racist conservative pig…don’t fly the flag…liberal commie.  Use the wrong pronoun…sexist homophobe, and also pig, don’t forget pig. 

Zip before button…sexist!

White…BAD!  Believe in God…BAD!

Mask you a question?  WTF?

That’s FED X’D’ up

 

That’s FED X’D’ up

This past Friday, 8 days from Mrs. C’s daughter’s wedding, FED X f**K'd up. 

Apparently, the operation at Fed X is highly computerized.  Computers are great, except they often do not allow for the option of thinking.

Mrs. C was waiting for a delivery.  It was a fairly important delivery given the up coming nuptials.  She purchased a wedding dress and her own dress in NYC.  She could have just brought the dresses home from NYC, but then there was a NYC sales tax which was … just say it was friggin expensive.  Having the dresses delivered to New Jersey saved a boat load of money.  A great idea except for FED X.

Friday the step-crank and future bride received an email from FED X that the package could not be delivered as the given address did not exist.  The package was to be delivered to

Mrs. Cranky

555 Something Rd.

Somewhereville, NJ

The step crank was not having any luck straightening out the situation and it was up to Mrs. C to fix it.

Mrs. C called and advised FED X that the correct address should be

555 Something Club Rd.

She was asked, “Are you the shipper? and do you have a blah blah code (some kind of a code)?”

“No.”

“Can’t help you then.”

HEY FED X!  Put on your thinking cap.  You have a package that you can’t deliver because of a bad address, and the intended recipient calls to give you the correct address…and you will not accept it?

I KNOW!!

Mrs. C called the shipper to call FED X and correct the address. 

FED X had a list of acceptable people from the shipper to make an address change.  The dress place, the shipper, named several people before finding someone from which FED X would accept an address change. 

That person was in Spain and not reachable at the time.

Now if I was on the call, I might have asked to speak to a supervisor.  I might then have mentioned that if the coming wedding was ruined because your idiot people can not ship to 555 Something Rd because it does not exist and will not ship to 555 Something Club Rd which does exist because we can’t reach someone in Spain to give you the correct address there just could be a law suit involved!

I KNOW!!

Fortunately. I was not involved because those stupid threats never work with idiots.  They usually make things worse.

The package was currently 15 minutes away, but they would also not allow Mrs. C to just come and pick it up.

Why?  I don’t know, probably as they are all IDIOTS at FED X!

Anyway, FED X was finally convinced to deliver the dresses to a FED X location even closer and Mrs. C could pick them up there.

Yes, I hear you that makes no sense at all.  

I KNOW!!

Keep in mind that if FED X did deliver to 555 Something Club Dr. and no one was home they would have just left a many thousand-dollar package sitting on our front stoop.  Yet they would not trust someone whose name was the same as the recipient to make an address change from one that did not exist to the address that matches with her name, if you just took the time to Google it.

I KNOW!!

Sometime after this call, Mrs. C called again just to double check.  Someone had changed the instructions to forward the package and it was set to be returned to NYC,  where at this point, I would say there would be an excellent chance it would be totally lost forever.

Now the Step-crank was understandably freaking out. Mrs. C was understandably fuming. 

She called the main FED X location where the package was, and relayed her Fume and the Step-cranks Freak. 

She actually found a human who could think.  A nice lady, Gwen, who could understand the anxiety involved with a wedding dress.

Gwen said for Mrs. C to come get the package, only about 15 minutes away, and she would guard it with her life.

We left before the phone hit the hook.  Mrs. C showed her ID at the front desk.  Gwen was ready and expecting her; we were home with the dresses safe and sound in a half-hour.

Crisis averted. 

Thank you, Gwen, for having a brain and a heart.

As for the rest of FED X … you are all unbelievably stupid with a capitol

STUPID!!