Quick Golf Notes

I can always tell who wins the weekly golf match between Nosaj and the father-in-law. Whoever calls me on Saturday evening for no apparent reason.

Golf winner: Hey.

Me: Hey.

GW: What's new?

Me: Nada. How about you?

GW: Well let me tell you. I beat the crap out of him. He cheated, I am awesome. I hit awesome shots and he smells.

Me: I think you have the wrong number.

I was thinking about these weekly calls when I talked to my dad yesterday. He told me he had poison ivy real bad. Since he lives in a old folks neighborhood with 1/64 of an acre for land, I asked how in the heck he got the ivy. He goes on with this elaborately planned scenario. It seemed like a 48 hours mystery.

Supposedly he is out playing golf with other old people. He gets up near the green. I break in and ask him if the course is a little unkempt. Is there ivy on the green? He goes on that he noticed they just bush hogged a portion of the woods. He noticed a bunch of golf balls over there. So he grabs about thirty balls to give to my kid. OK. I am buying it so far. Then, somehow, a few holes later his cart dies. The pro shop brings him another cart and he forgets all the found balls on the dead cart. Then he gets home and realizes he has bad poison ivy and no golf balls.

I would have just said, I played bad and took a bunch of shots from the woods. But that is just me.