Aug 20, 2010

There come times in life when change gets tired of our dawdling and knocks down the door of our comfortable little box, determined to drag us out.  Sometimes we go quietly, and sometimes kicking and screaming.  Either way, change cannot be denied.

The lovely Mrs. Sneed has been back at work for the past week or so and is realizing that her life on the outside was personally preferable to her life back on the inside of the rat race.

I have been urging her to give her notice and walk away from the turmoil and stress of her job.  She tells me that leaving is a process she has to work through, she can't simply up and leave.  I get that.

I played golf with the usual suspects yesterday and it was really hot.  I walked the front nine and rode the back.

At the 14th hole a somewhat crazy guy in the group behind us drove up to us and asked which one of us took his golf ball?  No hello, no how do you do, just an accusation.

His reasoning, and I am not making this up, is that he hit it into the fairway behind us and since he can't find it, we had to have stolen it.

The ball, a Titliest Pro V1, is the most expensive ball you can buy, about $5 per.  I understand how frustrating it would be to lose one.

Naturally, Some Guy Named Bob is an automatic suspect in a golf ball disappearance, but I was riding with him and can vouch that he didn't take it.

The guy was unimpressed with our protestations of innocence and said that he hoped we enjoyed playing with a stolen ball.

After we finished and the crazy guy was still playing 18, I raced to the pro shop.  I was going to buy him a couple of Pro V1s and give them to him with my sage advice not to be a jerk.  I have a PhD in jerkiness, so I am totally qualified to hand out that advice.

Unfortunately, I had to buy three balls minimum for $16, so I didn't.  

In other unfortunate golf news, SGNB very nearly killed the Seafood King with one of his many "do-overs".  SGNB  thinks nothing of hitting shots over and over without regard to the life or limb of his fellow golfers.  Only a happenstance tilt of his head kept the Seafood King from taking one in the back of the old noggin.

This video shows it all.


Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky


Kurt said...

$5 doesn't seem like enough money to make an ass of yourself over.

The Bug said...

Oh I have to share this one with my dad - he could probably tell similar stories about his weekly golf games.

Megan said...

There are so many parts to this post, I'm not even sure how to or what to comment upon.

But I ended a sentence with a preposition again, so that's something.

Bella Rum said...

Good luck to Mrs. Sneed. May she leave under her own steam and in her own time.

As for the incident of the disappearing golf ball, it reminds me of Dad believing someone stole his tractor manual. Some people just can't believe the universe eats stuff occasionally.