Chili Cheese Hashbrowns + RV = Bad Times

After leaving the wafflehouse, all eyes were on me to see whether or not I would break the RV code and pull a 'two-sie.'

Well, I did not violate the code of the RV, but I am being brought up charges by the UN for bio-chemical war crimes. The Chili Cheese hashbrowns mixed with the already volatile contents of my stomach and have been producing a steady of noxious gas so vile even I have been reduced to gaging. It's bad. Very Very Very Very Bad.

Bad.

In non gas related updates, the first-ever "RV Beer Club" was called to order sometime around 1PM. Sadly I could not participate as I was driving the RV at the time, but I believe Brett managed more beer on the floor of the RV than in his belly (can you name the GnR tune in the background).

My beard is no more. I will post pictures later, but people say I look like one of the 3 musketeers. I'm guess it's more "Cubby" than "Annette" (look it up).

I'm going to keep this update short, since CT and Bos just arrived. Everyone is now here, and the party is about to get going. Well, it's about to get going for them - we've been partying for the past 2 days. Those dudes need to catch up!

Good Morning Campers

After a night of not so blissful slumber, we awoke to the sounds of nature. Specifically, the sounds of Sheabone wandering though the camp ground looking for berries, picnic baskets, and captain morgan. Brett thought he was entitled to more sleep than the rest of us just because he drove all night. I disagreed with his logic, and felt the need to wake him up:

After packing up the tent we piled into the RV, slightly hungover, very tired, but ready to continue our journey. But before we could press on, we needed breakfast. We really just wanted a cup of coffee and maybe a muffin. We got the wafflehouse. Winners = us!

Actually, I should qualify that statement. It is entirely possible we could all be losers after the wafflehouse visit. Double order of hashbrowns covered (cheese) and topped (chili) - what could possibly go wrong!?! Well, we're only 5 miles down the road, but already there is some rumblings from the citizens of Bowel-Town. The one who stands to lose the most is Moden, since he's sitting directly behind me and currently driving the RV - which means he has nowhere to run. I may owe him a beer when all is said. Still, we continue our journey forward - with strength and intestinal fortitude (I hope). I have next shift at the wheel. We'll see if I can stay composed with the chili cheese goodness running amok downtown.

Trouble Ahead?

~Saps

Update

Yeah.....no words. Just sounds

KOA arrival. . . Myrtle is begin

RV departure - 8PM. KOA arrival - 12AM. Winners - Brett, Sheabone, Moden, Nasar, Saps.

Well, maybe not so much Brett since he drove the whole way here, but the rest of us are well ahead of the pack. Let's face it, the RV was the way to go, and anyone who didn't hitch a ride on the fame trian is just a loser. There, I said it - history will stand on my side on this one.
Here are a couple of quick hits from the journey thus far (as I type, Moden is 'pitching a tent.' Take that however you want).

• Brett is a good RV driver - until you have to use the toilet. Thats when he starts to swerve all over road. Until an hour ago, I believed this to be a coincidce. However after my urine spilled over the toilet bowl onto my exposed toes for the 4th time I feel there may be some malice involved.


• I may have the most bad ass and sissy iPod in existance - it all depends on how you view the world. I feel Michael MacDonald and Christopher Cross are the pinnacle of modern metal. You may not agree. I think you suck.


• Iron Maiden is the straight goodness, and if you don't know, now you do.>

Dave's Mustache at 2 weeks is better than mine at 2 months. Dammit.

Traffic does not suck in an RV, especially if you have 2 coolers full of beers (state troopers, please note we did not drink any alcohol along the way. I most certainly did not drink ten boozers. Anyone who says otherwise is a dirty liar).

Modens Momz is a dirty whore.

Twizzlers and Beef Jerky do not a dinner make.

Dave and I perform a kick ass air guitar rendition of "November Rain." It rule almost as hard as Axel and Slash, though we're in an RV and, last I hear, Axel was in a trailer park. We win...again.

So with that, I bid you all a good night. I am going to drink a few more boozer, and have a few more bi-curious moments. Don't judge me. You ain't here. You don't understand.

~Saps

Caution...

Objects in mirror may be sexier than they appear

Myrtle Fortnight

'Twas the fortnight before Myrtle, with clubs in the car

Golfers were sober, with high hopes of par;

The irons sat idle in trunks dark and cold,

In hopes that their owners would not fold;

The players were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of birdies danced in their heads;

And Myrtle with her courses, and greens keepers in caps,

Had settled down for a long two weeks nap.

When out in the lot there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new chance to win,

Myrtle 09 was about to begin.

When, what to my wondering eyes was going to be,

But a 24 foot, 6 person, rolling RV,

With two beds, a pooper, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment each passenger was a d__k.

More rapid than airplanes her passengers in delight,

She rumbled and rolled on Tuesday night.

"Now, KOA, Border Store, and Broadway on the Beach!

On Myrtlewood, Crazy Horse, & Derriere's!

To River Hills! to Long Bay Club! to Thistle! to Legends!

Now slice! hook! miss a putt!"

As greens that before the were aerated and slow,

When met with our group , they want us to go,

So out to the RV and down ninety five,

With it full of clubs, and hopes to stay alive,

And then, in a twinkling, the group started to drink

Knowing in days their game was bound to stink.

The golfers were ready fresh with desire,

with Sheabone searching the Derriere's caddie's for hire;

A bundle of 1's he strapped to his back,

he looked through the establishment, seeking the largest rack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! He resembled the Fonz!

Finally he landed, the great Modenz Momz!

A wink of his eye and and no look of dread,

Soon he would get grade A perfect head.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his drawers,

A chuckle she would bellow begging for more.

Myrtle 09 began with a bang,

Beer club kicked off the rest of the gang.

72 holes and a tournament winner,

Hot Dogs for lunch and Hooters for dinner.

Soon after the week began to start,

The RV departed with smells of a fart.

Swing Thoughts by Steve Boswell

Water ... water ... don't hit it in the water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water

Taking Liberties

You're not that good. I don't care if you tell me you're a 3 or a 23, I really don't believe you. If you wonder why that is, go look at the title of this blog post. Have you ever been 30 feet away and hit a nice putt up to 4 feet, then walked up and just tapped the ball into the cup in a non chalant manner? We all have. But whether you made that putt or not, you gave it to yourself; and that my friends is taking a liberty.

Why do we take these liberties? Is it because we're afraid of shooting a 94 versus 93? Let's face it, aside from a select few of us, no one is regularly threatening the 70s, so why do it? Here's another liberty. You hit a drive into the rough, get there and the rough sucks, so you give yourself a decent lie. You still have a slim chance at hitting the green, so why do it? Would you have felt better at the end of the round knowing you played all balls where they lied (even those across your nose)? I don't know.

That's the real beauty of taking a liberty; it's not cheating. We're not pros. We're not competing at any level other than who can drink the most beers. So there is no level of moral ground to worry about. That is...until you flash your handicap to someone. "Hey, I'm an 8 handicap".

Then you go to the course and see more liberties being taken than the Taliban takes from its women. So what do you do? The guy is one of your friends' co-workers and is generally a good guy. Do you call him out on that 3 foot putt that may have cost you a 50 cent skin? Do you make him return to the tee instead of hitting 3 from 75 yards further than where his drive went OB? Do you enforce the lateral hazard rule? Who knows what the lateral hazard rule is? What other hazard rule is there? When having crab cakes, is 2 enough? Is 3 too many?

The answer to these questions is no. No one wants to play with "The Enforcer". No want wants to be told that rule 8.1a states that a man whose tee shot does not pass the ladies tee must play the entire hole pantless...that is of course, unless that rule has been specified before the round.

There is no one among us who does not take liberties. From the tap in (6 inches to 5 feet) to the "winter rules" movement of a lie in the rough, to a favorable drop on the right side of the pond, or a "one in, two out" where you just take the distance. No one among us is casting any stones. We all live in glass houses. None of us are with out sin...

So, if you're ever in question about anything golf related, just remember the immortal words of my brother and know:
"Golf is a game of etiquette and integrity...ASSHOLE"

Swing Thoughts by Steve Boswell

I often wonder if Sheabone realizes white socks and black shoes are not a match.

Swing Thoughts by Steve Boswell

Should I show my fruit basket?