Two tips for golfers on defeating Tiger Woods

I usually have no trouble falling asleep. I just pop some DMB into the stereo, climax and then Dave’s soft and soulful voice does the rest. He should really put out a lullaby album. Just think of a stampede of mothers flooding Babies R Us for that CD. And I promise to never throw ‘climax’ and ‘babies’ into the same paragraph ever again, unless I’m telling you what’s wrong with buying sperm.

I wrote something over two weeks ago about the octuplet mom. It’s obnoxiously long so if I’m feeling bitchy soon I’ll post it.

Usually I fall sleep easy, but one of my sons got an amp for his birthday a few weeks back and chose to stay up until midnight playing his guitar. I’m not complaining. I enjoy it since his goal isn’t to wake the neighbors or make the dogs bark. It sounds good and makes me forget my trivial troubles. He has long since stopped playing and fallen asleep, and yet for some reason I can’t wind down. I’ll be fine since moms can run on only a few hours sleep. It all started 17 years ago with cries in the night, and that was me trying to mix formula properly with one eye open… anyway…

When I can’t sleep I read, and I noticed a story on my homepage about Tiger Woods returning to golf after an 8-month hiatus because apparently no one gives a shit about golf unless he is playing. And you know money makes the world go round (sorry kids it’s true). So let me get this straight…

The entire sport of golf as we know it is doomed unless Tiger Woods is involved? Who would’ve thunk? Surely not me, who can’t really name any other golfer off the top of my head other than Leslie Spalding, who will always be famous around these parts. So I came up with two half-assed tips for the others, the unknowns who really love the sport (is it a sport?) and can’t for the life of them get noticed thanks to the living legend who really doesn’t need the money yet keeps reappearing like he is Michael Jordan or something. Sorry Tiger but unless you appear in a movie with Bugs Bunny, have a song written for that movie by a child molester or have women guessing what kind of undies you wear, you are a nobody.

Yeah, who am I kidding? But I might as well finish this anyway.

Tip 1) Watch the movie Happy Gilmore. It is a complete how-to on rattling the star of the golf course. You know the only reason Adam Sandler’s character didn’t give up after being hit by a car was it would’ve entirely killed the ending. And not even Tiger Woods could pull off that dramatic win. You wouldn’t be able to steal his house, but if you bribed a heckler or a mental hospital escapee I’m talking real results. And how can Tiger Woods thinking about midgets save him?

Tip 2) Don’t read my blog. This is a stupid waste of web space. I could be sharing recipes or poetry, and here I am telling people to watch Happy Gilmore. I should be attacked by a mob of angry midgets or the entire cast of Wizard Of Oz right now…

Should we even care about golf? Or should we just zone out in front of the TV watching old movies?

Hurray for summer.

Hurray for vacation time. I’m looking forward to visiting my homeland. It‘s been two years since our last trip. It’s a 14-hr drive that always turns into a 16-hr event because the kids need to pee every few hours… and get one hot meal… so when we finally arrive I’ll see brand new worry lines on my mother’s face. Wait… she doesn’t know exactly when we’re leaving, so I’ll try to keep it that way. I‘m sure I‘ll fail miserably. She has a way of finding out things. If only I were an only child… but then I’d have no one to sympathize, or top my stories of pain and woe.

Hurray for beer. A tall cold one always tastes great on a warm day, and is probably one of my favorite things about summer. I really don’t enjoy beer much the rest of the year. I will have one or two on occasion but I have to be in the right mood for it. I don’t understand this summer phenomenon. Before I had kids I used to drink beer nearly every day through all seasons, and like water on my days off from work. I couldn’t get back into a regular drinking schedule after the first kid. I’m such a loser.

Hurray for ice cream. The kids have a chant that goes like this: I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream. Then Mom screams. They always get what they want in the end.

Hurray for baseball. I hope the new ballpark is open this summer as planned, and is still cheaper than a movie. I’m not a tightwad, I just have trouble sneaking kids into the theater, and after the first two it starts getting spendy. The popcorn is like crack and priced like gold. And you can’t have popcorn without a three or four dollar container of pop that could drown a small child.

At Cobb Field everything was reasonably priced which made for a true day of fun. Holy crap, I’ve turned into my father.

Anyway, fun time with the kids is important and I’m always happier when it doesn’t cost too much green. Yep, I’m my dad.

Not only do I enjoy ball games, but my kids will come along, and getting ALL of my kids together to spend time with mom is a tough feat these days. Teenagers are funny people. The strange thing is I can relate.

Hurray for the drive-in, but it’s only for the kids. And when the kids are happy, I bitch on the inside.

Movies just don‘t get me excited like they did years ago. When I became a grown-up (some time in the 90’s) I started seeing a trend of crap peddled by Hollywood, so I thought, like I’ll die if I don’t see Arnold in his latest multi-million dollar deal. I think the way I feel means I’m getting old. I’d guess my parents lost their love for movies when Clint Eastwood stopped starring in Westerns. For me, cinema died when Harrison Ford disappeared. He is a true stud. I’m glad he’s making a comeback of sorts in this new Indiana Jones flick, but I didn’t see him in the last three Star Wars episodes! I still want my money back. Darned kids. Yoda hypnotize them so, why does, hmm?.

Hurray for Independence Day. Our town really gets into the celebration and stretches it out over a few days with parades, fireworks, etc… and people are always on stage trying desperately to convince me that they are entertaining. I’m not like the rest of the drunken sheep, I only applaud when I mean it.

Rodeos are fun, but only when Cowboy Poker is played. There’s something special about watching a live group of snuff-chewers sitting around a card table in a ring with a bull. How does your poker face work when you have over 1,000 lbs of irate animal (complete with horns) breathing down the back of your neck? At some point the fear reflex kicks in and running for your life becomes a bit more important. In fact, the mean bucking machine doesn’t really allow time for a game to get started. To see grown men scrambling and crapping their pants is always a hoot.

We can light fireworks for two weeks straight if we feel like it. This can be fun, depending on who your neighbors are. There is a guy on our street who goes to bed early, and he will call the cops, even though he knows full well we aren‘t breaking any law. So out of respect we resist whipping out the noise makers on weeknights. Who am I kidding? The truth is we don’t want the cops hating us any more than they already do. They get really annoyed by his phone calls, so we are kind to the guy just in case we ever need to call 911. As far as I know there aren’t any specific fireworks that are banned because I’ve seen it all. Then again, I don’t have a copy of the city code handy. It may not be a defense but it works for me.

Sometimes ignorance really is bliss, especially when you‘ve got a deputy watching your every move because you justifiably insulted a woman, who turned out to be his wife. I didn’t start it, but I like to finish things in a memorable way. I guess the truth really can hurt. This is why I have a newfound love for attorneys. You never know when you’ll need one on your side, which is better than having one on your back. But it’s good when they have your back. But not your rear. What am I talking about?

What do you like about summer?