Golf

It's been a while since my last post but I have an excuse. I have been extremely busy...at golf. That's right folks, you heard me, GOLF. I have needed lots of practice gearing up for the Ryder Cup Tournament that happened last weekend. I have been trying to play every day over the past two weeks. It hasn't worked. The weather has been rainy and windy, especially at Beaver Meadows. My poor 1999 Saab 9-5 is slowly dying and needs a transmission replacement. This wasn't exactly reliable transportation during this time. I did manage to get in a few rounds though before the Ryder Cup. Here is #5 at the club.

Ryder Cup was fun. I putted like Ray Charles on Saturday but was hung over enough to hit the ball pretty well. It felt like I had a good tempo built until around hole 16 when I started swinging for the stars. Needless to say, the drives didn't work out too well for the last few holes. It didn't matter as it was a team event. My partner, Mac, carried me and I carried him when we needed it. Our team ham and egged it to a third place start after day 1. We were only two shots back.

Saturday night I got some rest and felt great Sunday morning. The fun portion of the tourney set up stated out well. I played with our A player, "Mahj" and made a good 20 footer to keep us in the first hole and a decent hole on #2. I then proceeded to suck hard on #3 and #4. My partner carried me through the rough patch and we did fine on the 9 hole better ball portion. The alternate shot portion is always interesting but we managed to fight out a +1 round of 73 between us. Pretty damned good.

The only problem that we had was that our B and C players didn't play to their abilities. This shit just happens. It's golf. You can be the best one day and be sub-par or even suck the next. "Stewie" and "Mack" played like the latter according to them. I gotta say I felt a bit bad for them. I've been there. The whole team has to play well to win this tourney and we just didn't have it on Sunday. Thanks Stewie for inviting me to play though. It really was a ton of fun.

Now I'm worn out a bit on golf. Explosives time is getting closer. Can't wait for the party on Sunday to celebrate the 4th of July. Independence Day. Make sure you become a follower of this blog.

Explosives

Men LOVE explosives. If I could light fireworks as a job, I would be complete as a man. I'd have a badge so if the police came, I would whip it out and say "fireworks expert, stand back". The only other job that is more manly is a navy seal or a army ranger. O.k., I am exaggerating a bit but pyrotechnics is COOL, Seriously COOL!

I always pick on J, my wife, for playing in campfires. I tell her, "you'll wet the bed if you keep poking at that fire" but she doesn't believe that. She can't help herself so she throws another face cord of wood on and continues to poke until either the fire is out, or she has a ten alarm fire going in a fire pit. People complain global warming is from humans, I blame it on J with a campfire.

I went to Pennsylvania after a client trip to Corning this week. There were no fireworks dealers listed on the web so, I had to inquire about purchasing pyrotechnics. I felt like a college student trying to score a $20 bag from a dealer. The kid at the A-Plus said in a whisper, "dude, take Rt. 15 south, past the first PA exit, and take a left on exit 2". I frantically wrote the directions down. "Whatever you do dude, don't stop at the two-for-one fireworks store on the corner because they rip you off, but go past the dive bar on the left and you'll find THE WAREHOUSE". I almost passed out. I felt like I just got totally hooked up by a true dude.

My new tattooed friend from head to toe, then pulled up the microphone and said "not like I buy illegal fireworks and blow them off in NYS all the time"! I do not lie. I looked around frantically. WHEW! No cops. The store was empty and he laughed uncontrollably.

So being the true pyromaniac that I am, I ask if he was messing with me and he replies that he is not. I promptly travel thirty minutes out of my way, on a tip from a stranger, to commit a misdemeanor and buy the explosive fireworks display. All I could consider is my planned awesome Fourth of July party with family and friends. I was on a mission.

The kid didn't lie. I arrived at a huge building surrounded by barbwire. The warehouse was pure nirvana. Fireworks were stacked in cases to the ceiling. I had to show my NYS licence at the door which made me a little uneasy. I wished I had my license from college bar days at that point and I started to sweat. The lady at the door smiled and let me in like a sucker at a NYS Fair whack-a-mole booth. I knew I was golden.

There were "customer service" people working the floor like hawkers at a carnival. "Can I help you sir?" was a common question. This was typically followed by me nervously laughing and asking for HUGE but very quiet fireworks so that the neighbors wouldn't be too bothered. Of course, hook, line and sinker... hand me the $40 cake of fireworks since they are quiet. I finally got out of the warehouse with a bill of $187 with another free $20 in explosives.

I immediately called my pyromaniac brother and told him of the cool shit that I bought. He was impressed until he checked with one of his sales reps who owns fireworks stores, on the cash I spent. Turns out that I overspent by a mere 400%. It definitely pays to know a fireworks sales person. Now we know for next year that we can get a retail fireworks display for 1/4 of the price, making it that much better than the anticipated show this year! It doesn't matter. Bring your tents. Bring your beers and drinks. A great time will be had by all who read this blog. If you don't get an invitation, please ask me for one. July 4th at the Baker residence. I can't wait!

THE CALL

I got invited to Stag Day today. For you bitches, Stag Day is basically "men's day" at the club. A bunch of good old boys get together to hit the long ball and talk about beer and women. Throw in a couple of birdies, beers and one irons and you have a complete day. For guys who are married, like myself, we talk about cooking and cleaning the house. Sometimes, we talk about Housewives of B'ville and the Next Super Duper Model Show.

Never-the-less, we are always aware that our wives can call at any moment and interrupt the day before it begins. Take tonight for instance. I was talking to a couple guys from my team about nothing in particular, when I got THE CALL! They were smart enough to crawl into a corner and secretly contact their better halves, before me, to update them on their progress. I advised that I would be contacting my wife to "check in" before I got THE CALL to check up on me. Since I was a good boy all day, and wasn't wasted or anything, I thought I was all good. Sure enough, while I was dialing, my phone rang from ... the wife. Duh.. duh.. duh!!!! She read my mind and beat me to the call!

Sweetness was all I heard. " Your daughter is headed to sleep. Should I expect you home soon?" Thoughts raced through my head. "Shit", I thought to myself. Just missed! I have only been gone since noon and here it is 8:30 at night. Not too long. Since golf takes, what, 8 hours for a round of 18 in a tourney, shouldn't I be safe? Then it struck me, I have a rational thinking wife who probably thought out the time frame. Five hours max. I overshot. I didn't pull the trigger soon enough! Why didn't I marry a dummy with a flat head and no teeth? I should leave while I can and arrive before my beautiful child goes to bed. I should score what points I have left so that I have a chance of playing again in the future! NO! BE A MAN! ORDER ANOTHER DRINK AND TAKE YOUR TIME! What did I do? I left.

Supposedly, it is a lot like training a dog. Teach them quick, be stern and they will learn. At least this is what all the divorced men that I know tell me. Tell your beatch to wait at home, bare footed and cleaning. Come home and take care of business and play golf when you want to. I know... You don't have to tell me. This is a pipe dream. Even though my beautiful wife did not demand it, I was at the door, waiting for my bowl of food and a doggy treat within fifteen minutes. My tail was tucked between my legs. I survived! I live to play another stag day..