MAN It's Hot

I don’t know what it is, but lately the weather has gone from nice to HELL ON EARTH. It’s hot and humid every freakin’ day.

“…The humidity, and here’s the problem, is WAY over 100%. WAY. And you know how you know it’s over 100% humidity? When you’re walking down the street for five minutes thinking to yourself: you know, I should’ve put deodorant on my BALLS. That’s over 100. Cause that’s not something you’d think of on your own.”

Sorry. That Lewis Black quote had to get worked in here somewhere. It has been SO incredibly hot lately. I’ve been averaging about 20 ounces of water every 3 holes. For all you math majors out there, that’s 120 ounces, or a GALLON of water for 18 holes. And yes, I just looked it up too. A gallon is actually 128 ounces. But I’m close enough. That’s insane. And I NEVER stop to take a piss. Which means that I don’t just sweat. Oh no. I RAIN. I sweat to the point where I think I’m crying because there’s so much water in my eyes. Even the brim of my cap has started to stratify into all of these magnificent colors. And when you add in the fading effects of the sun, you’ve got yourself a new line of hats to sell: “Caddie-Ass Hats.” The best freakin’ hats since “Truckers: America’s Little White Blood Cells.” Man, this heat has been KILLING me. This is two nights’ in a row now where I’ve been sitting at my computer trying to write and I almost pass out in my chair. I can’t even finish the post. I get about 4 paragraphs into it and my eyes start to close. At that point, the only thing left for me to do is to type as fast as I possibly can and hope to God that there’s something palatable by the end. I guess it depends on your palate, but the majority of what I’ve been writing hasn’t made much sense. Here’s a taste:

“So there are WAY too many roads. They need to take some bazookas to that shit. Either that or just give these weapons of mass-destruction to me. That comment scared me a bit so I'll stop. But I just really want to blow up some of the cars that get in my way. Is that wrong?”

Well maybe that did make SOME sense. But you can see why I stopped. I was a little “punchy.”

But now that I’m a little more ALERT, why not take this opportunity to tell you a little bit about my day yesterday. Because it was vicious.

I was told to arrive early yesterday morning, so I did. Because I'm the man.

The only problem was that NOBODY was playing golf. I had a better chance of curing some form of cancer than getting out on a loop. Today, I would be riding the couch. But then THE call came in. Somebody was in trouble!

So I jumped into the Bat-mobile and did some AWESOME karate kicks and roundhouses. I kicked SO many asses. It was wicked awesome. And quite manly. But wait. Who was calling?

The Caddie Master at my boss's new account was short on help. Apparently it was absolutely slammed over there. So, after looking around the caddie room and realizing that the caddie to player ratio was higher than a baby at a Doobie Brothers concert, my boss decided to offer up priority tomorrow to anyone who went over and helped out the Caddie Master at this new course.

So let me get this straight. I get a loop today, I’m assured a loop tomorrow, and I get to see a new course? Oh I’m SO there man.

Well, I was forgetting about one minor detail.

For all of you who are just joining us, I live in an area where the traffic is a bit of a nightmare. Well, I don’t know if “nightmare” quite cuts it. It’s more like a Vietnam Vet reliving one of his worst moments in combat while getting railed in the ass by a gopher. If you're trying to get somewhere and the time just happens to be between 8-11 or 3-6, you're done. You might as well just stay where you are and try to leave when traffic simmers down. Under normal conditions, the drive up to this new course would’ve been about 45 minutes. No sir. Not today. How do you feel about an hour and 45 minutes?

Crap. Father time, why must you be a dickhead?

So I finally arrive at the course, and the minute I step out of my car 38 flies start having sex on my face. They’re in my ears, under the brim of my cap, in my eyes and trying to get into my mouth. It was rough sex too. All I kept hearing were a bunch of flies yelling, “Who’s your daddy? Who’s your daddy BITCH!”

A few of the gay flies were whispering sweet nothings in my ear trying to stop me from killing them. But it didn’t work. The only flies I didn’t kill were the ASEXUAL ones. But I couldn’t really find any. So I just swatted at all of them.

There were flies EVERYWHERE. I'm not used to that. I NEVER run into flies at my home course. I guess the security gate outside keeps them out. But at this new course, DAMN. They just would NOT leave you alone. I’d kill a few of them on my arm and they’d leave little blood trails behind them. Those bastards are FILLING UP man. They’re like tiny water balloons who like to have lots of dirty sex.

By the time the flies started to bang the shit out of my tear ducts, I arrived at the caddie hut. I’m swearing and throwing punches at anything that moves. Come to think of it, Mike Tyson must’ve had the same problem when he jumped out of his car and beat those two senior citizens. Ah well. I blinked a few times to crush the bastards, and I walked into the ice-cold igloo this course had turned into a caddie hut.

It was marvelous in there. I ended up walking back outside a few times because I was actually getting COLD. It was exciting because I could almost etch my initials on the window with my NIPPLES.

There were no chairs in this little hut and it was SMALL. So all you could do to pass the time was lean up against the glass and stare at the other four guys waiting to get out. It was a little awkward. But you always had the air conditioner to talk about. Much like the weather with a perfect stranger. You ever notice that? The weather is really the only thing that you could just turn and talk to ANYBODY about. Well, no. I take that back. Weather and crack-rocks.

“So how about this weather, huh?”

“Yeah man. Some weather.”

“Wanna buy a few rocks?”

“Oh yeah.”

And this is an acceptable conversation. If that’s all that was said, you’re golden, and are probably friends now. Such was the case with this caddie hut.

“Man, this air conditioner is NICE.”

“Isn’t it?”

“You like crack?”

“Only if YOU like hard nipples.”

“Done and done my friend.”

Then I was finally assigned a loop. I would be carrying two bags, and I was set to work with another caddie from my home course. Cool beans. I mean I think one of my nuts might melt off halfway through the round, but other than that, yeah, cool beans man.

We walked up to the driving range and introduced ourselves to the players. Then I was introduced to my players’ bags. For all you newcomers, I’d like to define something for you.

A “Trunk”: Largus Baggus. The antithesis of a “non-trunk.” A golf bag known for having three distinct qualities: incredible mass, volume, and density. It’s large, to compensate for a small penis. It’s unbelievably dense, because the player normally likes to be prepared for even the rarest of events. Crossing a desert is always popular. And, due to the density and size, the bag is heavy. Caddies who willingly carry said bags on a hot day are considered RETARDS. See also: Al Czervik’s bag in “Caddyshack.”

Both of my players’ bags were HUGE trunks. And the minute they saw me eyeing up their bags, they became very defensive. I walked up to the first one and the player immediately approached me and said, “What? This is fine, isn’t it?”

Sir, your bag has HOOFS coming out of it.

This was a cart bag of the highest order. King of the cart bags. Not only that, but the guy had 16 clubs in his bag, two umbrellas and NO bag-stand. He obviously had a MASSIVE DONG.

“Sir, would you mind if I switched this bag out?”

“No, I GUESS not.”

Well okay. Here are a few tissues and I’ll introduce you to somebody over on the other end of the range who gives a shit.

So I went about my business, happily changing out the first bag. At some point, the Caddie Master comes over and informs me that they don’t have any more carry bags.

Awesome.

Tis true, I was able to slay one trunk thus far, but there was still one that remained. And that player was so happy with himself he could barely stand it.

“Yeah, this should be no problem for you. There’s no need to bring out another bag.”

Well, there AREN’T anymore. I don't really have a choice Mr. Hunglikeahorse.

You see, what players don’t understand (at least most of them don’t) is that as a club caddie, I’m working every day and am never really sure what kind of caddying job I’ll be assigned to do (whether it’s forecaddying, two bags, etc). Therefore, if I'm carrying a bag, I need to make sure that I take care of myself and lighten the load as much as possible. Otherwise, I run the risk of hurting myself and losing a substantial part of my pay trying to get better. I imagine Stevie Williams, Tiger’s caddie, kept this ideal in mind when he bought a racetrack and crashed a car one day. But for the most part, caddies know they need to be careful. A heavy bag mixed with a side-hill lie and a little dew could easily introduce to a world of hurt. Or hot-ass babes in bikini's. I don't remember which it was. So I guess you have a 50-50 shot of coming out alright.

So fine. I’ll carry this bastards’ bag. Not quite as wide as the other one, but it was definitely just as heavy. And I definitely appreciate the absence of a bag stand. You dirty slutbag.

Halfway down the first hole, a cart flies out and flashes another bag in my direction. I wasn’t the first one to witness this miracle, but it definitely caught my eye soon after. The guy with the remaining trunk was the first on the scene.

“So I guess you’re switching out MY bag now?”

I guess so. I'm sorry to hear that. I mean, I didn’t say anything. I suppose news of your bags’ weight traveled far and wide. This nice man in the cart just wants to take it somewhere special until you finish up. This isn't goodbye, sir. Just a new beginning.

Finally. The loop was underway, and I don’t have to deal with small cars hanging off of my shoulders. Sweet deal.

Before I pass out again, I’m going to wrap this up so I can finally post. The rest of the round was extremely tiring. But there were some great things that happened. First of all, these players treated me and this other caddie like Kings. They were sending carts in to fetch us water, snacks and even an iced-towel. Now for those of you who have never used/seen one of these babies, it is a gift from God to caddies everywhere. They soak towels in ice-water and throw in a few lemons. Don’t ask me why they use the lemons, because I don't really care. I’d just like to think it’s used to pamper the caddies. We just wanted to throw in a lemon because we LOVE YOU SO MUCH. That’s really why.

And iced-towels feel so good. It’s orgasmic, really. Here you are, sweating like a pig, heat infecting every pore in your body, the sun beating down on your neck and calling you a sissy girl. Then out comes a fat guy on a cart with towels so cold it would shrink the nuts on a polar bear. You slap that towel on the back of your neck and your body instantly feels cooler. It’s like a Dentyne Ice commercial, except not as gay. The only downside is that you CAN get a small headache from this experience. It feels like brain-freeze. But man, you just let that towel thaw out on your neck and enjoy. Water’s running down my back and chest, making me feel like Chewbacca flipped me upside-down and dunked me in a pool. Like a potato chip. Yeah. That's exactly what it was like.

So the service on the course was phenomenal, the players were all extremely appreciative of everything that I did (the course JUST adopted this caddie program), and the course itself was in great shape. It was fun to see. The greens were PURE man. Hardly any ball marks on them at all. But there were a few downsides to today. First of all, the traffic can lick left and suck center for all I care. I was on the road for 4 1/2 hours. Totally unacceptable. I was wasting away in the car on the way home. I was running out of water and had to ration it accordingly. Why didn’t I just pull over? The TRAFFIC man. Once you get in that line, you just have to keep going. It would’ve been MORE of a hassle getting off of the main road and getting back on after a drink. It would’ve been easier to DIE first.

So take it easy all. I need to get some sleep before my trip tomorrow. I’m driving back home to visit some friends and play in a member-guest. Hope I don’t suck it up.