Sunday, June 25, 2006
My Heart Aches...
Saturday, June 24, 2006
So F'in Disturbing I Can't Stand It
This would be ok...if I hadn't noticed something on the far right. Number 6. That is the number that Paris Hilton's single ranked on I-tunes. Egads!!!
All Signs Point To Yes
Monday, June 19, 2006
From The Mouths of Babes
1. Yes, but Donna Reed would have been wearing panties.
2. I'd love to come to your recital, honey, but I'm gonna be in Vegas with your mama.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Wish List Wednesday
2. A really good blender that crushes ice and makes frozen margaritas like a dream.
3. To have finished residency on time and with the rest of my class. While I recognize the benefit of the extra training, it has been more than a little bittersweet to attend all the celebrations and dinners while knowing that I’m going to be here for 6 more months.
4. A sudden return of my memory of all the Spanish and French that I’ve learned over the years. Also, the ability to communicate well in both languages (beyond just “one more beer please, cabana boy”).
5. Oooh! A cabana boy! Those always come in handy.
6. More shoes like these...
...which I wore to one of the aforementioned celebrations. These and a cute date make you feel almost bulletproof. (That is, unless you trip over a stump on the walk to your front door and go flying ass-over-teakettle onto the sidewalk.)
Monday, June 12, 2006
A Good Walk Spoiled
Growing up, I already had my three favorite things on the golf course: driving the cart, putting a few balls in on each hole, and getting Shirley Temples from the Men’s Grill (to go, of course). I was told I had a great swing. Unfortunately, I also had the attention span of a toddler. My eyes were already looking down the fairway before I finished my backswing. This almost always meant I missed the ball. That’s okay, though. 10 golfballs could keep me occupied for an hour.
When I was an intern, I took a few lessons – 3 to be exact. I probably went to the range about 5 or 6 times, and never played a round. Then I started dating Ah-sweep-ay. I would go to the range with him from time to time. I showed some promise (I guess), so he encouraged me. At first, this was awesome. I learned a little, I got a set of golf clubs for Christmas, and we now had a reason to take warmweather vacations (it was either that or snowboard Peru in July).
Unfortunately, it turned out I still had the attention span of a toddler. Combine this with the fact that Ah-sweep-ay took the game WAY TOO SERIOUSLY, and golf was suddenly not so much fun anymore. Everytime we went to the range, my unfulfilled potential would taunt and taunt him until he just couldn’t control himself. He had to provide “constructive criticism” on every swing I made. When I hit a good shot, he’d say, “That’s how they should all be.” I began to have fantasies of chasing him across the range with my club high over head screaming, “You wanna see a backswing? I got your fucking backswing!” I settled for a piercing look that would shut him up for about 5 strokes. Then, with the next unsolicited “tip”, I’d storm off to the bar.
This un-fun-ness culminated in a golf trip to Mexico. We drove over the border to a resort just South of Rosarita. The first day showed some promise as we ate lobster in a small village and drank lethal cocktails out of coconuts. Unfortunately, the Coco-Locos left me a little sluggish the next morning. This meant that we did not get to the driving range A FULL HOUR AHEAD OF TIME to warm up. What? This is golf, not the fucking Olympic marathon. At this point I was about to perform an unnatural act on another human being with a 9-iron. But the heat was deflected by the nice young Mexican man at the pro shop who couldn’t find our start time. After setting Mexican-American relations back a few decades, Ah-sweep-ay proceeded to have an appalling round of golf made worse by my constant refrain of “Where’s the bar cart? Isn’t there a beer girl in a golf cart?” Serves the fucker right.
So I stopped playing for awhile. But now I’m back. And I think I'll get really good this time, just for spite. See, I find spite to be one of the worlds best motivators. Now, where is that bar cart?
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Wish List Wednesday - Sophomore Effort
1. Better seats than Jack Nicholson for a title fight (preferably nowhere near Paris Hilton).
2. A large stoli martini up, with olives (shaken for long enough that the outside of the shaker ices up - if the olives are stuffed with blue cheese...all the better)
3. To have dinner with Sharon and Ozzy Osbourne, preferably at a restaurant so their little rat dogs aren't shitting on the floor. (I heard War Pigs on the ride home tonight.)
4. 20 acres in the desert with an air-conditioned airstream and an old beat up jeep
5. A Jim Beam dispenser that looks like Elvis (Yabba Dabba Doo)
6. Never to have hives again. (Oh, and a poem about evil hives please).