Thursday, March 24, 2005

New Approach

So I was reading over my first two posts and I noticed something. They sound funny. At least to me. And I think it's because I edit and proofread and edit some more. Ad nauseum. And I know that's a great approach for a lot of people, and all of the sites claiming that they have "tips" for bloggers will preach beautifully organized writing, but I just don't want to edit that much anymore. It makes my writing seem unoriginal and slightly impersonal. Plus, I think it takes all the fun out of blogging. You're just supposed to speak your peace whenever you want. Excessive editing does not match up well with my stream-of-consciousness, "Gonzo journalist" attempt at a writing style. So, that being said, I think the rest of my aritcles will be a little more entertaining and a little more personal. At least that's the goal.

So I jotted down seven quick conversation pieces today while I made my loop:

1. Dirty stories from a bouncer
2. Everyone trying to talk at once
3. How much I hate putter covers
4. The guy was cool
5. 15 clubs in the bag
6. I talked too much
7. My shoes got soaked

I'll touch on some of these. Perhaps all. It depends on how much time I spend on each one. But first and foremost, my boss used to be a bouncer. He spent almost 2 hours this morning telling the weirdest stories you've ever heard. I'm talking "Taxicab Confessionals." Stories of sex, drinking, whatever. It was all there. He can really tell a story man. You can't seem to focus on anything else. But man those stories were graphic. Can't believe I had the stomach for some of them.

Occasionally I'd try to get in a word edge-wise. But everyone there likes to talk so much. It was near impossible. I guess that's all I have to say about that.

Putter covers. Not until today did I call them into question. Why do we need them? I mean, you're talking titanium, steel, and a whole lot of other composites going into the mix when they make your clubs. Are you worried about denting your putter? I mean, I know you swing it pretty hard. At least I do. But anyway, I kept dropping this guy's damn putter cover. And not like four or five yards away. No. That would've been cake. We would finish a hole, and when I was grabbing the bag, I'd realize I dropped the thing two-hundred yards back down the fairway. Wait. Scratch that. He hardly ever hit the fairway. Make that deep rough. And it was a Nicklaus putter. I mean for a Scotty Cameron, sure. But a Nicklaus? I mean, I know the guy's won a lot of stuff, but come on. Some putters don't deserve covers.

The guy was cool. Well, I mean, I guess. He was really cool at first, but by the end of the round, he only left me a $30 tip. When, from what I understand, $40 is the minimum. Bastard. I probably ruined my pants and shoes raking all those freakin' traps you were in today and...well...I mean, you know. I strained my eyes looking for his ball. Cause I can't lose it. Cause that's a rule. It's also a rule not to speak unless spoken to. Guess I screwed that one up. Maybe that's why I got dicked over on that tip. Idiot.

The guy had 15 clubs in his bag. I didn't realize this until 17. I counted like 5 times. For some reason that was fascinating to me. But yeah, 15 clubs. Not sure why he needed that many. He only used like 5 of them all day. He made it a habit to skull-hook a lob wedge to run it up onto the greens. It was the most amazing shot I'd ever seen in my life. Who says you can't do that with a lob wedge? Then again, he also chunked a lot. Which sucked because he really knew how to lay over the sod and he kept spraying dirt all over me. But yeah, 15 clubs. It was pretty amazing.

And my favorite brand and make of sneakers got soaked. But it was totally worth it. I brought in a smell of sweat and goose-shit into the caddyshack. It took someone 30 minutes to say, "dude, who farted?" Reason number 4,356 why men have it better than women. Our noses aren't as alert.

But that's all for now. It was a pretty crappy day outside today. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

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