Thursday, May 27, 2004

Hello, Ball!

Anticipating getting cajoled into playing golf this weekend, I went to the driving range to re-learn how to swing a club. Even the driving range is expensive. $7 for a large bucket, and I needed two to even approach competancy. $14 to pitch tiny balls into a field for an hour. Found out that I've picked up a wicked, and intermittant, slice. I know why that happens, just can't correct it. Bastards.

If I had unlimited money, I'd care. But golf costs too much money to do more than occasionally, and it's miserable not being able to do it well.

Right before I was through, the place was mine- empty. Then, as I was cursing the last dozen balls or so, a guy walks up and takes the stall directly next to mine. What's that? Just goes to prove that there are two types of people in the world: just normal folks who mind their own business, and the lunatics who truely and sincerely believe I want to hear their stories. For example...

Stranger: What was that?
Greg: Huh?
Stranger: Did you hear that beep?
Greg: No, can't say I did.
Stranger: Must be my cell phone. I tell ya...
Greg: Un huh.
Stranger: I was going to get this JSM thing, but it turns out it's not available down in Monmouth.
Greg: OK
Stranger: Yeah, that's where me and my wife are from, Monmouth. Yeah, we just rent a house up here for work, you know. Go down to see the kids, and- well, grandkids now- yeah, we put a lot of miles on the car. Never buy a Dodge.
Greg: Mine works good enou-
Stranger: Three transmissions in two years!

And it goes on from there.

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