Female Version Of Happy Gilmore

I have never understood the golf obsession. My husband likes to play - he even watches it on TV which to me is tantamount to watching paint dry or listening to the voice of the guy from Everyone Love Raymond (his monotone droning drives my nuts). Anyway, this week was meetings and team-building activities at work, and one event was an afternoon at an Executive Golf Course (which is funny that they call it "Executive" because that actually means it's like par 3 holes - i.e. wimpier and shorter). Seeing as a considerable number of people were going that had never played any golf before, I agreed to join in on the debauchery.

We formed a team with the only four women that were playing so, by default, we were going to suck. And we did. 19 over par. Came in last in the tournament 9though everyone kept telling us we were first in the ladies tournament). But over the course of the afternoon (in the drizzly, uncharacteristically cold weather) I realized that I can drive the ball pretty far. But I have no control over where it goes. When I made contact, it would go over 100 yards. At once point I overshot it and the ball was sitting on the side of the next tee-off, waiting for me to pick it up. And I deposited two balls into neighboring yards. Only once did I manage to aim it right and it landed on the green. And another time it was on the rough, right next to the green.

The crazy thing is that it was fun. Now, I am cheap - I am not someone that thinks hobbies should cost a bazillion dollars. And playing golf at a regular (not Executive) course is like 3 bazillion dollars. At least $60/person on the weekends (a bazillion). That right there is enough to make be run away screaming from golf. BUT! Turns out that this wimpy executive courses are considerably cheaper. Add on the fact that we live in the most middle-class beach city in Southern California, fraught with cash-strapped young Marines, the costs are even lower. I found one just a few miles from the house that charges $20 for 18 holes. For 2-3 hours of fun and exercise, that is worth it. And I get to whack the ball and see what ridiculous location I deposit it at.

What really sealed the deal for me was the discovery that they sell golf clubs for the vertically challenged. Yes. Ladies Petite Golf Clubs, for us freaks under 5'3". How inclusive! I feel so welcome. So, you look for me on rock-bottom cheap, less than perfectly maintained golf courses with my little, tiny golf clubs smashing balls in the absolute wrong direction.


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