Awkward Dancing on the Golf Course

I played golf today. My friend and his friend played too. That’s a threesome…typically men like foursomes when they are hitting their balls deep, but we had a threesome.


We were on the first tee ready to tee off when a golfer playing by himself rolled up in a cart. I knew what was coming. He had to play with us to round out the much coveted foursome. The same thought went through my head that always does whenever I find out I have to play with people I don’t know. “Fuck.”

This guy was about our age (mid 20′s) and from the moment he opened his mouth he was a walking awkward dance. There are a lot of golf nuances that kind of piss me off and by the end of the day he was batting about .600. He even hit a lot annoyances that aren’t even golf related. I’ve decided it’s best to run all the ones this guy encompassed down list style:

  • Single golfer picking up with a random group of people who know each other – I’ve already mentioned this. I know that there are some people who relish in meeting new people on the golf course and finding out interesting things about them like what they do for a living and where they are originally from, but I could really care less. I golf to have a good time with my friends and cigars. There are million of icebreaker games. Golf isn’t one of them.
  • The really really really bad golfer – This guy was awful. Granted, I don’t claim to be next Ron Jeremy Tiger Woods, and really don’t mind if you can’t break 100 on a good day. But at least get the ball in the air on occasion.
  • The really really really bad golfer who thinks he’s really good – It was just his off day.
  • Giving unsolicited lessons – One of the other guys in my original group hadn’t played golf in a year or two and wasn’t very good. New guy felt it necessary to immediately start giving swing lessons. Not like, “You’re aimed up a bit to the right.” I’m talking about full-on, multi-minute, mini-instructional video with physical contact…on pretty much every swing. Remember too, this guy was awful.
  • Getting over excited for others’ decent shots – “Ah! You got a par! Nice job, bro!” “Oh, wow! You hit that right down the middle!” And then he’d throw the hand up for a high five. Oh yes…he did. And of course you feel obligated to not leave him hanging. Once he made a guy in my ground “pound it out, bro!” for a slightly better than average chip shot. I just sunk my head.
  • Having poor golf etiquette – I should probably rephrase this for him. His golf etiquette wasn’t so much poor as it was just wrong. For instance, he once borrowed my divot fixer to fix a divot before he took his putt that he felt was in his line for a solid two minutes. He then proceeded to aim two feet left of where he just fixed this divot. Another time, I was literally a few feet away from put the pin back in the hole after we finished up on the green and he insisted on taking the flag out of my hands and putting back for me. Thanks?
  • Now onto the non golf related peeves.

  • Being way too over zealous about the fact that you drink beer, like women, and cuss. – Drink Cart Girl: “You guys need anything? We have $2 beers.” Dude: “$2 beers!?!?!?! Hell yeah, I want one!” He gets beer and she drives off. “Holy shit, she was hot wasn’t she? And she’s giving out cheap beer! Wow!” No real further explanation needed, I feel.
  • People who try really hard to be funny, but just simply aren’t – This one is harsh. I know. But you should have heard some of these jokes. He legitimately used four ‘that’s what she said’ jokes Michael Scott style. And they didn’t even make sense. He also threw out a lot of poor golf lingo jokes that, again, weren’t funny and made little sense. Some people just aren’t talented at certain art forms and should therefore just not do them. I can’t draw, so I don’t. This guy lacked the art of humor…or really anything remotely tactful. He should have quit a long time ago.

The only real good thing about my experience with this guy today was that it gave me much needed Blogosis material. At least I can thank him for that.

The Tweets of Michael Jordan

Twitter cracks me up. A lot of people in my generation (and by generation I mean ages 24-29) deem Twitter a stupid waste of time that they don’t understand. Ironically, people in the five year generation above us say the same thing about Facebook. Regardless, I jumped on the Twitter bandwagon.

It’s basically just a glorified Facebook status, but what makes Twitter unique is that it’s very public (no permission required to see what is posted) and famous people use it. A lot of famous people use it. Some use it for what they are doing at the moment, some for self-promotion, some for political views, insightful thoughts, or general news.

Then there’s Michael Jordan. The Icon. The Legend. He’s the one sports figure who even that girl who won’t watch, or allow her boyfriend to watch sports either can recognize. He polarized basketball and will probably always be known as the greatest player ever. He also opened up the marketing business for sports figures who weren’t major players until MJ hawked everything from sports drinks to underwear. The only real knock on Jordan was that he didn’t really talk much. He had the power to influence the thoughts of millions of Americans and he never voiced any kind of opinion. After following him on Twitter for some time now, I found out why. Michael Jordan is just kind of…out there.

My friend and I went through nearly every tweet Jordan sent out in the past several months and were laughing hysterically. You have to see some of these.

“I’m a little surprised our cars aren’t more futuristic by now.”

“Sometimes, I have a week or two when I remember how great pop music in the 80s was. This week is one of those times.”

“On a clear nice night : Look at the moon from binoculars or a telescope. It will blow your mind.”

“I’m so sick of using batteries.”

“I woke up this morning and thought to myself, this spring I’m going plant 50 trees. Any recommendations?”

“I sometimes wonder what’s going on in Australia. Or, maybe Japan. Life must be a lot different over there.”

“I’m going through an ice-cream float phase right now. By the way.”

“A cactus is kind of a shitty houseplant.”

“I’d love to find a new Root Beer that really knocks my socks off. I’m worried that I’ve tried them all.”

“I’ve never used a sword or ridden a horse. I have never been in space or in the deep ocean. There are so many things I’d like to try.”

“I’m going to read all day one of these days.”

And my all time personal favorite:

“Do you think Dragons ever existed a long long time ago?”

Well we realize that one reason Jordan may have been so good at basketball is that he might have an extra extree chromosome. He’s sincere, genuine, and thought provoking jaw dropping. It’s almost as if Kige Ramsey or Bigfoot was an international sports figure.

If you don’t have Twitter or put it into the category of “a stupid waste of time,” I highly suggest you swallow your pride and follow Michael Jordan if no one else. He will change the way you think (of him) forever.

Kentucky Sports Radio is a sports blog about the greatest topic in the world…Kentucky Basketball. They aren’t a boring news site full of professionalism either, and because of it they get about 150,000 unique visitors a day. Recently they started a contest called Who Wants to be a Blogger? (for their site) and you know I had to enter. They just released the 20 finalists today, and I’m in it. I had to beat out 250 other chumps to do it.

Anyway, I thought I’d pat myself on the back publicly for that. We’ll see how far I can make it. Here was the article I submitted to get me this far. The topic: favorite obscure UK player of all time.

Oliver Simmons saved my life. Although his career at UK was cut short by a broken leg his sophomore year, he hung around just long enough to prevent perhaps my worst beating of all time, and win a national championship too.

During the 1995-1996 season, I managed to get into a decent amount of trouble in school. I threw a milkshake at a kid’s face, failed to do a week’s worth of Science homework, and got caught borrowing the movie Showgirls all in the same month. (what 7th grader didn’t want to see Jesse Spano naked?) But the Cats were #2 in the country, and nothing else really mattered. My mom, famous for such lines as, “I don’t like basketball because their shorts are so baggy you can’t see their butts,” and, “I don’t know why you even watch the games, because you know they’re going to win,” didn’t buy this excuse.

Surprisingly, it was my homework hiatus that had her most upset. I had always done well in Science so anything less than an ‘A’ would surely be unacceptable. Her exact threat was, “You better make up for not doing your homework, or I’ll rip your arm off and beat you to death with it.” I honestly believed her.

My only hope was bonus points, and my teacher gave everyone the opportunity. We had to come up with a mnemonic for the classifications of an organism (Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species). The best one got 20 bonus points! I had to win…it was my only shot.

After hours of deliberation, this is what I came up with: “Kentucky Plays Championship Offense Fantastically! Go Simmons!” Oliver Simmons was the only player I could think of on the roster who had a last name that started with ‘S’ so I had to use him against my natural urge to use stars like Walker, Delk, or McCarty. After I turned it in, I kicked myself for not thinking of Jeff Sheppard, and deemed my entry destined to lose because of it. After all, Simmons was goofy and had red hair.

When the day of reckoning came, though, Simmons pulled out the victory. Some say it was because I was the only one who used two, four-syllable words, but I know it wouldn’t have been a win without the 6’8” forward from Nashville. The 20 points got me over the hump, and to this day, I still have both of my arms.

Simmons is also one of the few players to shoot 100% from 3 point land (1 for 1) and falls into the category of, “Look what I found! A national title!” What’s not to love about that? Simmons transferred to Florida State his sophomore year with limited play and averaged around 6.5 points per game in 25 minutes while grabbing 4.5 rebounds a contest his junior and senior year.

Simmons may not have his jersey in the Rafters of Rupp anytime soon, but a #51 banner will always hang from my heart. He saved my life from certain maternal destruction and made me into the man I am today. Oliver Simmons, you are my favorite obscure UK basketball player of all time.

Superbowl Party Stereotypes

Superbowl parties happen all across the country. These are some people you may very well see:

Girl who knows nothing about football but tries to make comments she feels constitute football knowledge. This girl may or may not be single. She has watched a scarce amount of football in her life, but wants her guy (or potential post Superbowl hookups) to think she likes it. She’s known for making comments such as, “Wow, he kicked that ball right down the middle of the bars!” on an extra point, “They should have warmed up better!” after a bad play, and “They need to sack the running back!”

Guy who knows nothing about football but tries to make comments he feels constitute football knowledge. Same idea as above just not as easily forgiven because the lack of a vagina. His major contribution to the football game talk is “that’s a terrible call!” when “his team” gets penalized. He also doesn’t understand important parts of the game and tries to strike up arbitrary conversion during intense moments.

Know it all football genius. His entire life dream has been to grow up to be a high school football coach, but never made it further team manager. He will most certainly have a beer in his hand as he constantly screams at the TV about safety blitzes, coverage schemes, and slant routes. He always knows what play the offense should run next and lets the whole party know about it. He probably also manages several fantasy teams and belittles others for their stupid draft picks.

Girl who didn’t even know it was football season until she heard about the PARTY and wanted an excuse to drink. She’ll be begging people to come outside with her to smoke most of the time. Her input revolves around the commercials and why the hell they picked fill in the blank to preform at half time. She’ll also be in the top 10% of drunk people there.

Token boyfriend. He’s the guy that one of regular girls brings over. He feels extremely isolated because the only way most people will talk to friends’ significant others in a group setting is if they are hot and female. He awkwardly throws in one liners hoping for someone to bite or at least think he’s not a tool. However no one usually gives him more than a nod and fake laugh because they are too busy enjoying time with their real friends.

The way too enthusiastic guy. We get it, dude. You like football and your team made the Superbowl. This guy will be trying to get the whole party going by slapping hands, grunting, screaming, and taunting fans of the opposing team for all to hear. He will then go and do a keg stand during commercials. He wants everyone to know how hardcore he is in all walks of life freaks out Girl who didn’t even know it was football season until she heard about the PARTY and wanted an excuse to drink.

Guy who thinks the game should be played like Madden. There is no 4th down the team shouldn’t go for, and when the coach doesn’t…he’s a pussy! He doesn’t understand why they don’t blitz every play or why the QB doesn’t throw it deep every time. This is unless the QB is black and then he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t run with it every time.

Guy who just wants to watch the game and doesn’t understand why it requires a party atmosphere. He’ll be found sitting on the couch with a Pepsi much of the game keeping to himself and keeping stats in his head. He may clap now and then when he remembers he’s at a party, but wants Guy and Girl who know nothing about football but try to make comments he/she feels constitute football knowledge to shut the hell up if they don’t know what they are talking about. He loathes Way too enthusiastic guy.

Feel free to add more.

RIP Mr. Wildcat

Bill Keightley has been sitting on the Kentucky Wildcat bench since 1962. He has washed every UK basketball player’s underwear since then as the equipment manager, and has earned the name Mr. Wildcat. He was inducted into the UK Basketball Hall of Fame last year and has a banner with his name on it hanging in the rafters of Rupp Arena.

He died today of complications following a fall off a bus on his way to the Cincinnati Reds opening day game today.

He was 81 years old.


Pittsburgh was the flavor of the week. In my quest to attend every Major League Baseball stadium, I made my way up to Pittsburgh for the one of the Pirates’ series finale. Here are a few highlights:

I would get really annoyed if I played baseball for the Pirates. For one, the suck. But more importantly, PNC Park wears out the whole Pirate theme. Sound bites is like “ARGGGHH” and really long pirate ship animations flood the entire game atmosphere. Cool at first, but after 81 home games, it might get old. They are also constantly referred to as the “Buccos” which to me sounds like the gay, 21st century 13 year old girl way of saying Pirates. It’s sort of like when 21 year olds call Southern Comfort, “SoCo.” Hardcore rednecks have been drinking Southern Comfort for years and years, and these little girls throw some lime in there and think it’s a “neat” shot. Anyway…I digress…

The biggest thing that pissed me off about Pittsburgh isn’t a damn taxi cab to be found anywhere. At 6pm, one taxi company had a 45 minute wait, one led me to a voicemail that said they would call me back, and one company just didn’t answer. Luckily, we got the hotel to take us to the game. At 11pm, there was a 2 hour wait from the first cab company, and I didn’t even attempt the other two. Somehow, we saw a cab stopped at a gas station getting gas with someone in it, and begged him to let us split the cab with him. If it weren’t for that, I might be still in Pittsburgh trying to bum a ride.

Pittsburgh is basically a big city full of a bunch of hick towns. Everywhere outside of the skyscraper filled downtown looks like the hollers of eastern Kentucky without the hills. It’s old, dirty, and outside every Subway and gas station, you can bet to see someone smoking and working on their car. I think the polite way to refer to this is “blue collar.” This sucks for the whole niceness factor, but there was one good thing about being a 2.6 million person Elkhorn City: cheap beer.

Junior’s Gettin a New Number

I must give a disclaimer before beginning this post: I do not watch NASCAR. That being said, I marvel at those who do. Obviously there are exceptions, but take a minute to paint an image of the stereotypical NASCAR fanatic. Not just fan who watches the occasional race on Sunday…but the true fanatic who devotes their life to loud billboards racing around a track. K…hold that image.

Near the pinnacle of NASCAR’s all stars lies Dale Earnhardt Jr. Granted, he sort of fell into grace genetically, but nonetheless, he’s there. Evidently he is changing driving teams, and therefore changing numbers. He’s going from the number 8 to 88, and he will also no longer be sponsored by Budweiser. I find this hilarious, and here’s why:

Still have that image? If it’s anywhere close to the image I have, you have depicted a pretty rough, blue collar guy decked out in his favorite driver’s attire. That’s the thing with the stereotypical fanatic…they must spend 40% of their income on NASCAR merchandise. Now…all those people who have dumped thousands and thousands of dollars into number 8 decals, shirts with an airbrushed Dale on the front wearing a Bud hat, and car/truck paint to duplicate the likeness of the #8 car have just gotten the biggest facial of their lifetime. Now they have to go buy a whole new set of 8s and hope they match the one they already have. Either that or just buy all new 88 decals, shirts, and paint jobs. And there’s not much they can do with the old stuff besides send it to the trash.

Then come the idea of all those tattoos! Thats right, tattoos! That has to be awkward walking into a parlor having to say, “You reckon you can squeeze another 8 in there between the first one and the checkered flag?” There’s really no way to make that look good…not that an 8 beside a checkered flag looked good on your forearm in the first place.

License plates will have to be changed as well. Just on my way home tonight I saw IRNHRT 8. Evidently, ERNHRT 8 was already taken and he had to improvise. In Virginia, you can only have 7 characters on your plate, so this guy is out of luck if he thinks he can get another 8 on there. If he hurries, he might be able to get “ERNHT 88″ before that other guy gets it.

As you can see, I could go on and on with this. There’s just some sort of cynical euphoria I get knowing that people on welfare are going to have to spend an exuberant amount of money to redecorate their trailers because Junior and his step mom couldn’t get along. Maybe now they’ll have less money to buy their $1.00 prescriptions and won’t come bother me all time. Then again, they’ll probably just be that much more pissed off when they do. Oh well, git r done, Dale!

John Madden should be fired…

It’s time to hang em up, old man. Sure a video game that just happens to share your name might be awesome, but that is no reason for you to still have an announcing job. 90% of the things that come out of your mouth make no sense. Last night, for example…lets run over a couple of classic Maddenisms that are only useful for….well actually they are not usefuly at all.

“Tony Romo has his tongue sticking out…these guys keep doin that…it’s a surprise they don’t bite it off one day.”

“Terrell Owens is Terrell Owens and Tony Romo…well, he’s Tony Romo.”

Ah, I’m so frustrated I can’t think of any more from last night. My jaw was on the floor with nearly everything he was saying and of course this morning I can’t remember all the quotes. Madden kind of reminds me of Yogi Berra, but with Yogi’s stupid sayings such as “It ain’t over till it’s over” you actually are thinking to yourself, “yeah…he’s right!” Yogi’s made sense and had a purpose. Madden’s neither make sense or have a purpose other than to fill in silence on TV. I’ll leave you with my all time favorite Madden quote…

“The only bad thing about using your last timeout is that you don’t have any more to use after that.”