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..

Death and Taxes

Let me be the first to say that I am disgusted by people who don't vote. Why you ask? Simple. My taxes keep going up. I swear people have an extra chromosome in Central NY. The 3,000 people who did vote on the school budget passed it 2-1. Where are the other 24,000 people who live in the district?

Here's the scenario. One of the highest property taxes in America? Check. One of the highest per pupil cost in America? Check. Highest retirement spending per teacher in America? Check. Best testing outcomes in America? Eh eh. Hmmm you say. Why would you keep throwing more money at that problem every year? Why not lower the costs so that more business and people would move to the region? Instead, it is a steady flow of people that are leaving, bringing their businesses with them.

So why bitch you say? Why not leave with the rest of them? Trust me. I will leave when one of the following happens. (a) My business cant afford to do business anymore in NYS which is coming soon. (b) My daughter graduates high school and moves to a southern state like all of the other kids. (c) I grow a pair of nads and put up or shut up.

But it was only a 2.8% increase in taxes Rob! Let me educate you all in Baldwinsville a bit. The school budget spending proposal shows me a hefty $2,000,000 increase in spending this year over last. If you look closely, out of the $97,000,000 that they are spending on 5813 students district wide ($16,687 per pupil), it includes $5,000,000 from a slush fund for tough times. That means that NEXT YEAR they will have to find $5,000,000 of the 2011 budget SOMEWHERE. Duh!! I think it wont come from the slush fund since it doesn't exist anymore! Since they didn't cut the budget this year, but raised it by $2,000,000, I doubt they will cut the money next year, when the economy is presumably doing better!

All I can say is bring the lube, because next year is the year that it is going to really hurt. I'm guessing a 10% increase in school tax alone. To keep the budget at 0% growth, with no layoffs, they will need to raise a MINIMUM of $7,000,000 in new revenue. Bah! Don't worry, plenty of businesses will open in Baldwinsville, NY next year to cover the tax base increase! Haven't you noticed all the small businesses opening and all of the hiring going on? Haven't you seen all the new homes with their property tax being built? I don't know anyone who is moving away from here to find work! Shit, so many people are moving away that the student population is dropping year after year. There are 267 kids less in the district this year than in 2006. That's a 5% decline.

How do we stop it? Move. Or, you could vote.

The Crash

It was another exciting night golfing. I drove one of the useless golf carts that Beaver Meadows leases so that I can carry some beers while golfing. It's always a major pain to carry beers while walking because they are always shaken. Not only are they flat, but there is nowhere to place them while one shoots, nor do they remain remotely cold. To be a true professional, one MUST take a golf cart. Four cup holders. Did I stutter? Four cup holders at a time!! Since I drove, my bro-in-law rode for 18 with me.

Unfortunately for Jimmy, he doesn't hold many skills in the art of golf cart driving. Let me set the stage. Here we are on 16. Jimmy drives the ball off the tee, to the right, in the pine trees. All the trees are trimmed low, there is plenty of pine straw, so that one can drive a golf cart under these 60 footers without issue. Simply put your foot on the gas, drive to the ball and take your foot off, coasting to a halt next to said ball. Ron and I are in the fairway watching his approach to his ball under the trees. Jimmy with his amazing cart driving skills decides to drive from the passenger side because he is cool like that. Needless to say, it didn't turn out so hot.

We watch with horror as Jimmy mistakenly slams his foot on the gas, instead of the brake, when by his account, a branch nearly poked him in the face. The cart shoots forward, from a near stop, at what seemed like 30 miles an hour...he swerves at the last second, narrowly avoiding a full speed head-on with a tree... he still collects a large root and the side of the tree, sending the cart careening at a 60 degree angle airborne. I'm talking a good four feet in the air at top speed with all our stuff exiting the cart into the air. It sounded like a car wreck. You know, tin can type CRUNCH! Jimmy lands upright, the cart stops dead and Jimmy immediately exits the cart. Panicking, he checks for missing or damaged parts, but all seems o.k.

Ron and I are 50 yards from the wreck but were laughing SO hard at this point that we almost fell over. I haven't laughed so hard in years. With tears streaming down my face, we get to the cart and all looks great. The damage is of course, two spilled beers and humiliation. I walk to the green while Jimmy recollected himself and realized that his life had just passed before his eyes.
He pulls the cart next to us, complaining that it isn't driving right. We finish the hole and take it from there.

Upon taking the reins of the cart back, I realized that the wheels are messed up something fierce. The alignment is shot and the wheels squeeled on the pavement because they were pointing outwards in two different directions. Another laughing fit occurred because Ron could see the struggle to handle the beast, even by an experience cart jockey like myself.

I limped the beast back to the parking lot and promptly informed the cart kid that the cart started acting funny on number 16. Jimmy went to the locker room to change his shoes as he was afraid that someone might recognize him as a crash victim. I didn't bother to explain why. I have decided that next time I play with Jimmy, he needs to ride shotgun with no touching the cart, or I'll have to suffer walking and choke down warm, flat beers!

Drinko De Mayo

I think a regular tradition has been adopted. Every year from now on will be an all out, sick-ass, pinata beatin', tequila drinkin', smash to celebrate Cinco de Mayo. We will call it Drinko de Mayo. A special thanks to Ali for the new name of the party! In my book, there is nothing better than getting together with friends and family and tipping the bottle. Mix in some awesome Mexican food and you have Drinko de Mayo! Next year we will plan better and include even more friends!

I keep getting complimented for the pinata and the semi-lame fireworks display! I know for a fact that all of the chinchillas (kiddies) enjoyed the party! They were on the floor grabbing candy and coins like fleas on the back of a Mexican chihuahua.

One of the good things about this party was that we actually took pictures this time. Food was served with the likes of enchiladas, nachos, tacos, guacamole, salsa, and several other dishes that smelled so good that it started to attract the illegal aliens from down the road. As the evening progressed, so did the craziness of the event. The tequila shots and margaritas were flowing like the Rio Grande. Several people wanted to get out the guns and start firing them into the air. Just to make it seem authentic, fireworks were set off.

There are a couple of thoughts that I keep having. I wish that I had a Mariachi band. If the weather would cooperate I would line one up for next year. My ideal party would have been outdoors, with a band, porta johns, a catered bar and the same types of Mexican food. Throw in a real fireworks display and there you have it! A future plan for the 10'th anniversary Drinko de Mayo party.

I had a great time and would like to thank all the participants for coming: Rob, Lisa and kids, Mike, Molly and kids, Leo, Annette and kids, Gina, Jimmy and kid, our golf buddies -Ron and Patty and Phil and Norine, my homeys -Sissy and Senor Rob and Senorita Alyse. I'd like to thank our Mexican neighbors to the south for the food recipes, tequila and an obscure holiday to use as an excuse to get together in May!

Disclaimer - I would just like to add that all of the participants are legal residents of the USA. No illegal immigrants were invited or attended to the best of my knowledge -Even this guy!

Golf Partners

Breakfast tournament is over. I had a wonderful time with the exception of one thing that always annoys me. Forced pairings suck. The problem is that in this tourney, the pro shop randomly chooses what tools, erm partners one gets stuck, I mean - saddled, I mean - play with. Needless to say, I got stuck with a doosey. He was such a tool box that when I was asked who I played with, I got the knowing nod of disapproval. It was one of those ooooooooooh that suckssssssssssss looks. I wont mention his name but I will say that the other two partners made it worthwhile.

Ok so here is the scene: we start on hole 3. I know one of my partners so we ride to hole 3 together from the clubhouse. I don't know the other two guys from a bag of beans. They show up in cart #2. One guy I hear is a "big hitter". He is fine and appropriately introduces himself with a handshake. The other guy lumbers from the cart and promptly introduces himself with the etiology of his last name. and shakes hands, laughing nervously and inappropriately the whole time. He then proceeds to talk to himself under his breath, scolding himself for already being such a douche bag. I got the feeling right away that I was glad I wasn't stuck riding with him. Our long hitter had to pay his dues riding with "the tool".

We start play and Big hitter proceeds to almost drive the green at 330 yards away uphill. The tool oohs and ahhs and duffs his first shot. He proceeds to tell Big hitter what he did wrong with his swing. Big hitter is gracious and brushes off the comment. I step up and The tool talks throughout my tee shot. I'm already annoyed. So it went for 16 holes. On the 16th hole I have had my fill. If it wasn't Sunday morning, I would have had 6 beers in me just to block out the annoyance that was playing with us.

On the 16th, Big hitter hit a major drive behind a small tree. Being a captain and crew tournament, you are allowed to move your ball one club, no closer to the hole. I say to The tool "move from behind that branch, it looks like you may hit it". The tool says "it's not in play" and then swings and hits the branch with his ball. I say" I guess it was in play!" I couldn't help myself. The tool almost cried. He then lumbered back to the cart with his coke bottle glasses, talking under his breath about some way he can kill me I'm sure. My other two partners quietly nodded their approval and promptly began giving The tool more shit. Big hitter asked if he could ride back to the clubhouse in our cart. It was that bad...

We ended up at 7 under, should've, could've, would've been 10 under at least if we had any peace that day. Maybe 12 under if we had beers on a Sunday morning!