Monday, August 22, 2005
Let The Countdown Begin!
Remember these pants. You may just see them again.
OK, I know....the countdown has already begun over at the AZPHC website. But now we're creeping ever closer to single digits.
That's right! I'm talking Parrot Grande now. This promises to be one helluva good time. A little food, a little golf, a little music, a little
Twelve more days to fun in the sun, Stars On The Water (yes girls, Jerry. When are you crazy wimmen going to just start flinging undies at the guy, a la Tom Jones?), Mark Mulligan, Bad Monkeys, Ray Cody.....ice cold beer....a big-ass cement pond that looks like a baseball bat.....a pirate boat race. I'm calling my shot right here and now on the pirate boat race. I will not win. My boat will float neither fast nor straight. But it'll be cool.
And of course - twelve more days until the 1st Annual Golf Deities Conclave and Fashion Show. More plaid and polyester than you ever dreamed of seeing again. And all on only four guys. Garish, loud, mismatched, we got it all. We should make some sort of Grand Entrance to the pool area after the match. Maybe get somebody with a cool voice to say:
Ladies and Gentlemen....Announcing the arrival of The Golf God and his Disciples....
Talk about your Kodak moments. Sheesh. I don't know about the rest of the deities, but I can go right into the pool with my $14.00 outfit. In fact, I'll throw the gauntlet down right here:
I hereby challenge the Golf God and Apostles to go off the diving board and right into the pool in your golf clothes. I'll even lead the way and go first.
But wait a minute.....ooooooh, the wheels are turning now......
What if this whole Caddyshcak dress up thing is a scam, a set up, a gag? What if I'm the only one that shows up dressed like an idiot while the rest of the tournament field laughs its collective ass off?
What if it's you that's been set up, and I'm the conniving bastard? Hmmmm?
Nothing like seeing Moose dressed up in XXXLarge plaid with a Tam O'Shanter on his dome, chasing my ass up and down the course swinging a 7-Iron, is there? Or maybe hearing Russ a-hollerin' "Y'all done fixin' to get yore ass whupped now!"
Naah. Impossible. The Golf God is omnipotent and infallible. He'll also be too hung over at 7:00 Saturday morning to think about anything beyond a Bloody Mary and which way the zipper faces on those plaid shorts.
Just to be safe, I'm going to bring me a change of clothes down to the course.....
