My parents both golfed. My sisters golfed. And I golfed, for many years. I was even on the Golf Team in college at the U of U.
I went over to Malaysia to work, and the big recreation there is golf (big time)! Everybody golfs, some every single freaking day. There was a big golf course and club we all belonged to on the way home from the job (which was about 60 miles). Many guys would stop on the way home and get in 9 holes before heading home, some even 18 holes. I got suckered into this more than once.
There were also some guys who joined this same club because golf was about the only recreational thing to do there, other than sweat your ass off and cuss at people and things. (Aside from the food, I hated Malaysia, I really did! The job was hard enough, let alone where it was...located on the Equator of the fucking Sun.) Anyway, some of these guys couldn't golf at all. I envied them.
One time, I'm playing this hole, and some of these guys were in front of us. They were moving pretty slow, but I didn't care. (I'd brought a cooler full of Tiger beer, so I was like..."Whatever!" (not what I really said)). Anyway, this one guy slices (if you could even call it that, more like hit a 'diagonal' shot) his ball off into the jungle which lined the course on all sides. This particular area was dense jungle. But this guy is NOT gonna' lose his ball, so he goes in after it. Like with gusto! He's out of sight for a while, when all of a sudden I hear..."AAAAIEEEEGH, AHHHH, OUCH, (thud) AAAAGHEEEIA! DAMMIT! (whack!) DAMMIT!! GET OFF ME!! GAWD DAMMIT!!!" Just the sound of this dude shrieking had me laughing so hard I almost pissed myself! I hear more of the same, and pretty soon I see branches and leaves flying up and it looks like the Tasmanian Devil is coming! By this point, the dude was a human weed wacker, just ripping a path through these bushes making his escape. This guy comes running out, stumbles and falls down. Now he's crawling...and shrieking. So I decided I better drive up and see what the hell was going on (his buddies weren't helping him at all).
I get up to him and he gets up. He looks like he's been in a street fight (bloody nose, blood all down his shirt, etc.). "WTF happened to you, dude??", I said. He says..."A..a...a...erm...I got in there, and this f'ing monkey attacked me out of nowhere! There's a whole bunch of those bastages in there!!! GOD DAMMIT!! JUST DAMMIT!!" He throws his 5 iron (I think he meant in the direction of his cart, but it just sailed off to the right), and he grabs his Driver. He's mad as hell now, and he's gonna' head back in there and go to WAR on these monkeys! "WHOA, WHOA, whoa, dude!! Hang on a second!", I say to him. "Don't mess with those monkeys, man, seriously! They'd Fk you up, bigtime!! (and they WILL too!)"...says me. He's like..."I don't care, I'm gonna' KILL THAT MF'er!!!!" I was actually kinda' worried, until I saw what he did next. He marches over to the edge of the jungle like he's gonna go to WAR against these monkeys, except he stops. Then he starts hollering at the top of his lungs..."COME OUT HERE YOU SONS A BITCHES!!" (I'm sorry, I'm laughing so hard even writing this that I'm crying). He's wildly swinging his club at the air, the gound, hitting the ground and taking huge divots out, and just flipping out. Then this dude just starts destroying anything within 5 feet of the edge of the jungle! He's whacking his club off underbrush, big trees, you name it! His club is all fucked up by now, and he screams again..."COME ON OUT HERE YOU BITCH, IMMA KILL YOUR ASS!!" Then he just launches his club off into the jungle (it flies out of sight). He marches right back over to his cart and grabs two more clubs. This dude has gone completely insane by this point. This is pretty entertaining, so I moved over to the passenger side of my cart, put my feet up, and cracked open another Tiger!
The whole time this guy is out of his mind, there's no calming him down...he's just losing it. (I guess he had a really bad score before this). He's cussing the whole time. "GAWD DAMMIT, MF'ING GAWD DAMN MONKEYS...COME OUT HERE AND FIGHT ME YOU FK'ERS!!" By now, he's back over at the edge of the jungle again, just hacking everything in sight apart with his club until it's so bent and twisted it's just a metal stick with no head! Then he grabs his next club..."GAWD DAMMIT!! COME OUT HERE YOU BASTARDS!! I DARE YOU!"...then he goes back into weed-wacker mode again! I have to give this guy credit, he did a helluva job trimming back the jungle about 5 or 6 feet in all directions...impressive! Even took some pretty impressive hunks out of some of the bigger trees (I think if he would have kept at it, he might have even managed to cut one down!). Then he comes back for even MORE clubs! At this point, I told him..."Dude! You're not gonna' have enough clubs left to finish the hole, let alone the round!!" He sits down on his cart, and puts his head in his hands. He's still cussin'. I walked over and handed him a cold Tiger, which he gladly took and slammed. He gradually started to come out of 'Psycho Weed-Wacker' mode, looked at his golf bag and realized he'd used up about half his clubs. Then I think he started crying and laughing at the same time. I handed him one of my towels, dumped some water on it and suggested he wipe off his face. Still, the whole time he was cussin' up a storm, mumbling..."gawd damned monkeys, I hate those MF'ers, I'm gonna' KILL every last one of those bastages I see from now on! I'm gonna' club my wife to death if I EVER hear her say how "Cute" they are, ever again! MF'ing monkeys!! Mumble, mumble...mumble."
He sits there for a moment, and it looks like he's calming down. Nope! After about two minutes, he jumps up, grabs another couple clubs...and starts to head back over there again to wage more battle on these monkeys..."COME ON, YOU MF'ERS!! I'LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YA!!" I managed to talk him off the ledge that time.
Oh my gawd, did I ever laugh! By this time a crowd had showed up for the show, including his buddies, who were no help at all to this poor dude. Of course, they were all egging him on..."Go back in there and FK those monkeys up, Bill!!" I told them to back off, and told him to relax.
He angrily reached in his bag, grabbed out another ball, and tossed it over into the middle of the fairway. He'd mashed most of his good clubs around a tree at that point, so I think he had a putter, sand wedge and a 5 wood left. He grabbed his 5 wood....and sliced ANOTHER ball off into the jungle on the same side about 75 yards down the fairway. He bounced his club off his cart, started cussing again, and said he was "damn sure" getting his ball back this time! I told him he was on his own, and continued my play. I found my lie, and promptly sliced my shot off into the same gawddamned trees, but about 160 yards away. Sigh. I slammed my beer, hopped in my cart and drove up to the green and dropped a ball about 5 yards off the green...which, of course, I hit right over the green into the sand trap on the far side!
Did I mention...I hate golf?!!!! LOL!
I went over to Malaysia to work, and the big recreation there is golf (big time)! Everybody golfs, some every single freaking day. There was a big golf course and club we all belonged to on the way home from the job (which was about 60 miles). Many guys would stop on the way home and get in 9 holes before heading home, some even 18 holes. I got suckered into this more than once.
There were also some guys who joined this same club because golf was about the only recreational thing to do there, other than sweat your ass off and cuss at people and things. (Aside from the food, I hated Malaysia, I really did! The job was hard enough, let alone where it was...located on the Equator of the fucking Sun.) Anyway, some of these guys couldn't golf at all. I envied them.
One time, I'm playing this hole, and some of these guys were in front of us. They were moving pretty slow, but I didn't care. (I'd brought a cooler full of Tiger beer, so I was like..."Whatever!" (not what I really said)). Anyway, this one guy slices (if you could even call it that, more like hit a 'diagonal' shot) his ball off into the jungle which lined the course on all sides. This particular area was dense jungle. But this guy is NOT gonna' lose his ball, so he goes in after it. Like with gusto! He's out of sight for a while, when all of a sudden I hear..."AAAAIEEEEGH, AHHHH, OUCH, (thud) AAAAGHEEEIA! DAMMIT! (whack!) DAMMIT!! GET OFF ME!! GAWD DAMMIT!!!" Just the sound of this dude shrieking had me laughing so hard I almost pissed myself! I hear more of the same, and pretty soon I see branches and leaves flying up and it looks like the Tasmanian Devil is coming! By this point, the dude was a human weed wacker, just ripping a path through these bushes making his escape. This guy comes running out, stumbles and falls down. Now he's crawling...and shrieking. So I decided I better drive up and see what the hell was going on (his buddies weren't helping him at all).
I get up to him and he gets up. He looks like he's been in a street fight (bloody nose, blood all down his shirt, etc.). "WTF happened to you, dude??", I said. He says..."A..a...a...erm...I got in there, and this f'ing monkey attacked me out of nowhere! There's a whole bunch of those bastages in there!!! GOD DAMMIT!! JUST DAMMIT!!" He throws his 5 iron (I think he meant in the direction of his cart, but it just sailed off to the right), and he grabs his Driver. He's mad as hell now, and he's gonna' head back in there and go to WAR on these monkeys! "WHOA, WHOA, whoa, dude!! Hang on a second!", I say to him. "Don't mess with those monkeys, man, seriously! They'd Fk you up, bigtime!! (and they WILL too!)"...says me. He's like..."I don't care, I'm gonna' KILL THAT MF'er!!!!" I was actually kinda' worried, until I saw what he did next. He marches over to the edge of the jungle like he's gonna go to WAR against these monkeys, except he stops. Then he starts hollering at the top of his lungs..."COME OUT HERE YOU SONS A BITCHES!!" (I'm sorry, I'm laughing so hard even writing this that I'm crying). He's wildly swinging his club at the air, the gound, hitting the ground and taking huge divots out, and just flipping out. Then this dude just starts destroying anything within 5 feet of the edge of the jungle! He's whacking his club off underbrush, big trees, you name it! His club is all fucked up by now, and he screams again..."COME ON OUT HERE YOU BITCH, IMMA KILL YOUR ASS!!" Then he just launches his club off into the jungle (it flies out of sight). He marches right back over to his cart and grabs two more clubs. This dude has gone completely insane by this point. This is pretty entertaining, so I moved over to the passenger side of my cart, put my feet up, and cracked open another Tiger!
The whole time this guy is out of his mind, there's no calming him down...he's just losing it. (I guess he had a really bad score before this). He's cussing the whole time. "GAWD DAMMIT, MF'ING GAWD DAMN MONKEYS...COME OUT HERE AND FIGHT ME YOU FK'ERS!!" By now, he's back over at the edge of the jungle again, just hacking everything in sight apart with his club until it's so bent and twisted it's just a metal stick with no head! Then he grabs his next club..."GAWD DAMMIT!! COME OUT HERE YOU BASTARDS!! I DARE YOU!"...then he goes back into weed-wacker mode again! I have to give this guy credit, he did a helluva job trimming back the jungle about 5 or 6 feet in all directions...impressive! Even took some pretty impressive hunks out of some of the bigger trees (I think if he would have kept at it, he might have even managed to cut one down!). Then he comes back for even MORE clubs! At this point, I told him..."Dude! You're not gonna' have enough clubs left to finish the hole, let alone the round!!" He sits down on his cart, and puts his head in his hands. He's still cussin'. I walked over and handed him a cold Tiger, which he gladly took and slammed. He gradually started to come out of 'Psycho Weed-Wacker' mode, looked at his golf bag and realized he'd used up about half his clubs. Then I think he started crying and laughing at the same time. I handed him one of my towels, dumped some water on it and suggested he wipe off his face. Still, the whole time he was cussin' up a storm, mumbling..."gawd damned monkeys, I hate those MF'ers, I'm gonna' KILL every last one of those bastages I see from now on! I'm gonna' club my wife to death if I EVER hear her say how "Cute" they are, ever again! MF'ing monkeys!! Mumble, mumble...mumble."
He sits there for a moment, and it looks like he's calming down. Nope! After about two minutes, he jumps up, grabs another couple clubs...and starts to head back over there again to wage more battle on these monkeys..."COME ON, YOU MF'ERS!! I'LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YA!!" I managed to talk him off the ledge that time.
Oh my gawd, did I ever laugh! By this time a crowd had showed up for the show, including his buddies, who were no help at all to this poor dude. Of course, they were all egging him on..."Go back in there and FK those monkeys up, Bill!!" I told them to back off, and told him to relax.
He angrily reached in his bag, grabbed out another ball, and tossed it over into the middle of the fairway. He'd mashed most of his good clubs around a tree at that point, so I think he had a putter, sand wedge and a 5 wood left. He grabbed his 5 wood....and sliced ANOTHER ball off into the jungle on the same side about 75 yards down the fairway. He bounced his club off his cart, started cussing again, and said he was "damn sure" getting his ball back this time! I told him he was on his own, and continued my play. I found my lie, and promptly sliced my shot off into the same gawddamned trees, but about 160 yards away. Sigh. I slammed my beer, hopped in my cart and drove up to the green and dropped a ball about 5 yards off the green...which, of course, I hit right over the green into the sand trap on the far side!
Did I mention...I hate golf?!!!! LOL!
