We participated in the 2010 Barstool Open in Omaha last weekend, a miniature golf/drinking tournament. All in all it was a mild success; I say only mild because while it was a ton of fun, we were able to finish only 6 of the 18 holes (there was 1 hole set up at each bar) because of long lines at every bar we went to. And we were among the more ambitious groups as far as finishing holes is concerned- I would bet my one remaining testicle (along with the bouncy ball from a 25-cent machine that doubles as my second testicle) that no team finished more than 9 holes. No way. I feel like we could've pocketed our entry fee, bellied up at a bar with an entertaining hole, and just sat there, heckled golfers, dropped Happy Gilmore quotes, and done our best David Feherty and Roger Maltbie impressions and had just as much fun.
- Like I said, the day was a ton of fun, but I have one more bone to pick: there were no left-handed putters available for use, except for one hole that had one of those cheap double-sided ones. I expected this situation heading into it (I predicted it the day we signed up and I saw the line on the registration which read PLEASE DO NOT BRING YOUR OWN PUTTER, THEY WILL BE PROVIDED FOR YOU) but it only pissed me off more because they throw in that qualifier on the registration. It's like no, no, don't even think about bringing your own tools- we'll supply that for you- but 10% of you are going to be screwed. Yep, just go ahead and fill in your credit card information right there at the bottom. I would've been more than happy to supply my own putter- instead I was stuck putting right-handed and cross-handed all day. C'mon bro, how am I supposed to win my skins game against Gangel putting opposite handed? Even though I understand the rationale behind not allowing people to be strolling around downtown Omaha, shitfaced and brandishing a putter, they should at least have a second putter on hand for lefties, or at least the aforementioned double-sided putter. Fucking racists.
Normally I love being a lefty, at least sports-wise: it's good for about 6-8 ppg in city league basketball; and I used to be a pretty good Little League pitcher, even though a four-year-old girl could've been my battery mate, played without a glove and been fine because I threw so soft.....but every once in a while I run into a situaton like this where lefties are discriminated against, and it drives me nuts. You can read more about my feelings on this in my book, "It's A Mildly Cruel World: How To Make A Big Deal About Things That Have Little Significance In Your Day-to-Day Life."
- A great source of fun throughout the day: fashioning our team handshake after the scene from Happy Gilmore after Chubbs dies, when Happy picks Chubbs' wooden hand up off his casket and gives it a three-step soul shake and then awkwardly slaps it. One person would just stand there with a rigid outstretched hand, while the other one would go through the actions. That was almost TOO much fun after 10 drinks or so.
- Apparently at one bar we were at, there was some creeper who was nonstop hitting on Alex. My normal m.o. is to let it play out. I'm not what you would call the jealous type, and I kind of enjoy seeing how Alex handles herself. But this time I honestly had no idea it was happening. Between watching other teams in order to get a scouting report on how to attack the hole, dominating the complimentary pulled pork sandwich, and watching KU piss away a 16-point halftime lead vs. Mizzou, I didn't see the guy at all, until he had finished "laying his mack down" for the 6th time, by the girls' count. Maybe I should've been paying more attention? Maybe I'm a horrible boyfriend? Anyway, he was just a little guy, I probably could've handled it if it came to fisticuffs. One shot, bro! That's one shot, bro! They call me Lil' Ronnie.
- We finished the night at bar about a block away from Ashley's place, and while we were walking home, a lifelong goal of mine was accomplished: we saw a car sideswipe the shit out of a parked car right in front of us. Just CRUSHED it. I immediately reacted like we just won the World Series, and then once we settled down, we proceeded to make Dane Cook "I was in my kitchen, and I heard it, so I came out" jokes for about 15 minutes until we got bored and walked the rest the way home. Pretty awesome though.
- Also, just an FYI, I'm currently on hour 53 of the song from this SNL sketch being lodged in my brain. I'm not saying it's a bad thing; in fact I'm pretty OK with it. I'm just sayin', 53 hours is a long time.
