SHE SAID: Case of the Mondays

June 13, 2010

I can’t seem to get the cast of Arrested Development back together, and trust me I have tried.  Orbit’s new dirty shorts are as close as I can get.


I have been watching a little bit of soccer lately … a little thing called the World Cup is keeping me entertained through the recent rain storms.  Frankly, I’m surprised I hear women griping about having to watch this.  Not only is it a fantastic event and the sport a dazzling display of athleticism, but the gentlemen who partake in this sport are by and large GORGEOUS.  Here is a ranking of the arguably best looking soccer players in this World Cup.


Here are some absolutely gorgeous shots of underwater ballerinas. After my underwater base jumping video last week and this, it seems I’m going through an underwater phase.


For all you designers and artists out there, here is a fun game.  Note: non-artistic types will not be entertained by this while sober.


Twitter.  Some would argue it’s a waste of time.  This golf game, which one could also argue is a waste of time, relies on twitter – the yardage of your shot is based on how popular your word is on twitter in the last 20 seconds.

In related news, the New York Times has banned the word tweet.  Jeremy banned it almost a full year ago from his vocabulary.  That’s right, folks: my boys a visionary.


May 19, 2010

I am not as bad as Charles Barkley

So I joined a country club this year. The most rinky dink country club I think I’ve ever seen, but still I am a member.  Bear in mind this is a 9 hole course, the clubhouse looks closer to a squatters mecca than it does to most clubhouses, and last time I went to play (at 1 pm) there was not a soul on the course or in the clubhouse…yet a board still had to approve my membership.  Anyway, that’s besides the point, I could write a book on the many idiocracies surrounding golf (the pants, the mens lounge, the shitty golfers who think they are good, social memberships, yada yada yada), but in this post I want to focus on the game itself, and why I continue playing even though most of the time it is similar to torture.

For a frame of reference, you should know that I label myself an “accomplished hacker.”  I am past the point where I hit a ground ball every other shot, thought admittedly that does still happen. For 9 holes, I’m generally in the 45 range, and for 18 closer to 100 (I fall off the map after hole 14…when I am loaded I’m going to build a 14 hole golf course).  My score is high because I can’t hit any more than one or two really good shots each round.  Generally when I play, I’m frustrated more than I’m happy, I get blisters from walking, and I attain what many refer to as “swamp ass.” Doesn’t all this, mainly my success rate, beg the question – why the eff do I bother to play?  Or for that matter, considering I’m better than the average person I see on the course, why does anyone bother playing?

Not my future wife.

One reason I know is not true is to meet females.  I’ve been to many a courses around New England, and saying they are not ripe with single women in their 20′s would be the understatement of the century.  The only women I see at the golf course are usually there to appease husbands…I hope the man is not forcing his significant other to play by agreeing to seem some stupid movie like “Letters to Juliet” later that evening, yet I digress.

Is there anything else in life that so many people do shittily yet continue.  Think about it…I am completely satisfied with a shot only a couple of times in a 4 hour round.  Add into that the ass sweat and there really isn’t a rationale reason I should be playing.  Oh of course there is the argument, “well you are outside in the nice weather, perhaps enjoying an adult beverage or two with some friends.”  I can do the same thing at the beach (where there are lots more single females, and I don’t have to wait for four senior citizens to use the ocean like I might have to for 18 straight holes).  But I guess I’ve already answered my own question…it’s that one shot that brings me back…that one drive that I actually hit straight…or the sand shot that somehow manages to hit the pin…or the beer at the 19th hole.


May 19, 2010

I think golf is ultimately more of a man’s game because where else can you be in someone’s presence for 4 hours or more and not have to talk?  I’m surprised more couples don’t play together.


One could make the argument that I’m not that into golf because I stink.  And yes, that is a huge part of it.  I swing hard, it just goes even faster into the woods.  I try to keep my head down and end up missing the ball.  I think you get the picture of what a round of golf with me is like.

Golf is similar to shuffleboard in that anyone can do it who isn’t confined to a wheelchair.  If you’re 300 pounds overweight, your swing will be different than the 90 year old woman suffering from osteoporosis, but you can both be accomplished golfers.  Somewhere along the line, golf acquired more street cred than shuffleboard, and I’m still trying to figure out how that happened.  I think it has something to do with greens fees.

Which brings me to my next point: golf is ridiculously expensive.  While I’m all for preserving expansive areas of undeveloped land, I don’t think you should have to pay out the wazoo to walk a piece of land with a club.  Between the membership fees, the cart fees and then what it costs to get a bag of clubs together, I could have built my own tennis court and redone my kitchen.  And, if I want to spend my time with painful people, I already have plenty of occasions, and I certainly don’t need to pay money for more.

But golf also takes up time, and by time, I mean, eons.  And I don’t have four hours of free time to spend chasing a ball on a regular basis, which would be required in order for me to enjoy playing without my current level of frustration.  If I want a work out, I run, hike or go for a bike ride.  If I want to play a game, I play tennis, corn hole or volleyball.  All of those can be accomplished in around an hour, maybe a little more.

It made sense that my grandfather was into golf.  About all he could do was walk and it gave the poor guy something to do during the day since he wasn’t working and his wife had died.  And his passion for the sport, well, I chalked that up to having literally nothing else to do other than offer us grand kids twenty five cents for drinking our milk.  Then my dad got into it, but he was also getting up there and it made sense for the most competitive person I’ve ever known to attempt domination of a new activity when his fitness level was less and less impressive and he was approaching his golden years.  Once he couldn’t put his kids to shame athletically, he said he took up a game requiring more skill than athletic ability.

I’ve wondered whether he did it to get away from life for four hours.  If being out on the golf course was kind of like going on a high mileage run in that your mind is able to free itself from the minutia of your daily grind.  For four hours, he wasn’t an employee or boss or father or husband or brother or son.  Or maybe it doesn’t get that deep at all.  Maybe it really is just about getting a ball in a hole.

HE SAID: Tiger Woods

November 30, 2009

I almost feel like this post belongs on our dbag page, because there really isn’t a more accurate word to describe Tiger Woods – at least with regards to this specific situation.  Actually, there isn’t a more accurate word to describe anyone in this particular situation.  The situation is filled with dbags.  How many dbags we got on this ship anyhow (for those that didn’t catch this reference, go check out Spaceballs).

I mean, really, lets dissect from the top.  Tiger. Effing dbag.  First of all, who gets into an accident by driving into a tree and fire hydrant at less than 33 mph.  Oh wait, that happens all the time, to less than sober drivers.  Then for what has been almost a week, he has avoided both police and reporters and has only released a statement basically asking to respect his privacy.  Eff that, I don’t buy into the whole “superstars are entitled to the same amount of privacy everyone else is.”  Bullshit. You know why? We regular people are the reason he is so wealthy.  We pay premium prices for tickets to see him, we buy Nike gear that fund his endorsements.  Now, I’m not saying we should be entitled to who is he most likely banging on the side, but we deserve more than he is given; it’s part of the social contract.

The police.  You are also being dbags.  Just do your effing jobs.  Don’t cower to the power of celebrity that is Tiger Woods.  Putting the interview off once I can deal with…one can make the argument that Tiger was in some rough shape and needed some time to recover.  Twice? Three times now?  Please, just get this over with.

TMZ/National Enquirer.  You are also dbags…but not just because of this story.  Your entire purpose is to make other people miserable.  Do people that work for outfits such as these realize this aspect to their lives?  You are successful in your job if you tap deeply into the private lives of others, making them suffer.  Sweet life.

General Public. We are being dbags about this as well.  Lets all calm down with the conspiracy theories about them staging the accident to avoid public scrutiny about domestic dispute.  Like I said above, we deserve the truth, but we don’t need to dissect every aspect to his marriage.  Everyone should just shut the eff up about this already.  Which makes this entire post somewhat contradictory.  So I’ll stop.

After I mention Elin Nordegren Woods.  You are not innocent in all this, but when I looked you up I found this, and just can’t come up with anything negative to say about you.


SHE SAID: British Open

July 20, 2009

I watched some golf this weekend.  Gripping news, I know.  I also cleaned underneath my nails.

Stewart Cink won, but somehow I end up feeling sorry for the guy.  No one I know was rooting for him and numerous people throughout the afternoon and evening said wistfully and out of nowhere, “Man, I wish Watson had won the Open.”  Plus, despite his win and an exciting four-hole playoff, everyone is going to remember 2009 as the year that Tom Watson almost won the Open for the sixth time at 59 years of age.

The New York Times started off their coverage with: True, Stewart Cink spoiled the party, the story and the symmetry of Tom Watson’s rising from the heather to win on the same lovely links where he raised the claret jug when Jimmy Carter was president and woods were still made of wood.  But …

ESPN’s headline: A Villain in Victory?  I was hoping Simmons would have had some funny article on the Open, but had to settle for another installment of mailbag.

If someone had told Cink that despite playing a great 76 holes and winning the British Open, his first major, that he would have beat out Watson and the circumstances surrounding his win … would he have played the same game?  Does someone who won a major title deserve a little better than condemning headlines like ESPN’s?  Can we mourn Watson’s loss without sabotaging Cink’s celebration?  Do we really need to refer to him as a villain and party spoiler?

Thankfully, Cink seems to be an incredibly gracious and understated man and he’s not making a scene out of the reception his win received like some other’s might have.  Is his tolerance making the wistfulness worse?  Enabling it?

In other news, I feel golf needs a makeover.  The outfits, while funny and oddly stodgy, are ridiculous and need some updating.  The companies represented make decent clothing and somehow, despite this, 90% of the “athletes”  haha, look like my grandfather in high waisted, pleated and at best dark khakis.  All of which I thought were outlawed years ago.  I understand that many of them are older and that they are not out there to look good, but to get the job done … but it is not a prerequisite that they look dull, monotonous and uninspired.

I’m going to go typical female here for the sake of the blog and present some awards.

Chris-Wood-001Best Dressed: Chris Wood, although his hair needs work.  He modernized a classic look and it was slick.

Worst dressed: Too depressing to work out and way too bland.  It’s like looking at a lot of pictures of plain oatmeal over and over and over.

Medal of Valor: Daly for his FANTASTIC argyle pants.  I didn’t even know argyle pants were an option.  It was like a glimpse at the fourth dimension.  They will be mine.

Britain Open Golf

Pay Attention to me: Ian Poulter.  He’s like the Phoebe Price of golf.  Although, at least he’s having fun.  His closet would be fun to raid after a night of too many vodka red bulls.

HE SAID: The British Open

July 20, 2009

Just a warning, for those hoping for my own version of some fashion awards coming at the end of my post, I am not nearly as lame as Nifer, so don’t hold your breath.

While I see where you are coming from on the main part of your post, I can’t agree with you.  Yes, obviously it would be ideal if Cink had instead beat out someone else, someone not my father’s age, someone who has been relevant on the PGA Tour in the last two decades.  That way, the press would be focusing on Cink finally winning a major 12 years after being named PGA Rookie of the Year, instead of some young guy robbing an elder statesmen of one final chance at glory.

But, it is not ESPN’s or any other news outlet’s job to sugar coat anything.  They simply reported what people wanted to hear.  And the fact is, people simply didn’t give a shit about Stewart Cink, because even a first time major winner isn’t history.  At least, compared to Tom Watson winning a major at the age of 59.  BBC reported that when they walked up the last fairway together, 95% of the crowd was cheering for Watson.  In that sense, Stewart Cink was absolutely the villain. 

That’s how sports culture works.  When your favorite is out, almost everyone roots for the underdog.  And since Cink is pretty much no one’s favorite (to know fault of his own really, he is just one of the bland golfers you were referring to); and Watson hasn’t been anyone’s favorite since I was swinging plastic clubs in my backyard with my Pampers on, anyone not related to Cink was rooting for Watson.  Given just how amazing this would have been (think Soderling over Nadal, Miracle on Ice, Giants over Patriots (are you allowed to double parenthesize, because I just did to inform you that I puked in my mouth thinking of that fucking game)), people were pulling for Watson with even more emotion than normal.

I mean, for eff’s sake, I was watching the last few holes in the gym and was near tears watching the look on Watson’s face the last couple of holes, and that all of a sudden, he did indeed look 59 years old.  Actually, I think the tears were probably a result of the anxiety I was feeling after too much alcohol consumption over the weekend…

And as for Cink, when he looks back on this in two decades will he wish he could have won his first major a different way?  Of course he will.  Did he lose a little sleep because of it last night?  Yes, he did…but only because he was figuring out different ways to spend his $1.24 million dollar paycheck.  Besides, he will probably be an answer to a Trivial Pursuit question in 25 years (Nifer, hold onto this fact.  If you do you might actually beat me one day at that game).

PS – The Sports Guy may not have posted a full article (yet), but see here for some Twittering.