A million years ago (I couldn't even begin to guess what month this was) the Fatties went golfing. And competitive skeeballing. And Denny's-hopping. More on that later.
Hey! Hey! Before I forget, everybody (that means you, Dad) give a big fat welcome to the two newbies, Chris and Albert.
Anyway, about that golfing. Yeah.
So someone (Kelly?) got this wonderful idea that we should all go miniature golfing in Livermore, because isn't miniature golfing just the most fun ever and unfortunately Livermore is the closest miniature golf station. (Quick sidenote: Why is it always called miniature golf? Why not mini golf? It's much easier to say and we substitute mini for miniature in every other part of life, but why not with golf? I've often wondered about this. Perhaps someone can help me.)
I really like the song "Wonderwall". Just thought it was important to note that.
Golf, right? Yes. Here's the thing with mini golf on a Friday night: It's very crowded; there are lots of mean losers who take they're playing way too seriously; and there are even folks going out on dates, what look like blind dates.
In other words, a group of assholes like us is not real popular. Especially when the group playing behind us is apparently playing professionally. They couldn't quite understand why it took us 200 strokes to finish a hole.
Now we could've just taken these guys down, cuz you know we're tough like that. But we were feeling awfully kind, so instead we played a rousing game of speed golf, which is basically just like regular golf but really really fast. You learn something new every day, doncha. (Doncha _ that's what I'm naming my firstborn daughter.)
Actually, speed golf isn't just about golfing very quickly. It also involves kicking, cheating, wrestling and a little bit of spelling.
Re: The end of the game. All I can say is I'm pretty sure that somebody did indeed win. It might have been Chris (Chris C. as opposed to Chris ?, who has no last name as far as I'm concerned), but probably not, due to the fact that his club ended up in one of the ponds.
It's not important anyway. What's important _ nay, critical _ is that afterwards we played Skeeball. Check out Liana's warm-up session:
After Liana was properly stretched, we proceeded to take over the Skeeball lanes, scaring away any little kids and friendly adults who might've also liked a game or two. (Check out the kid totally freaked out by Liana as she tests the weight of her balls. No, I don't mean Ryan. The other scared kid. Yes, that one.)
What did we purchase with our winning tickets? Whoopee cushions, that's for sure, and other plastic toys that are most likely lying somewhere along the 580 freeway right about now. We were awfully proud of our winning tickets, though. And angry.
So how does a group of fat assholes cap off an evening of mini golf? Why, Denny's, of course. (Actually, if I recall correctly, Denny's was not our first choice, or even our 18th choice. I think we drove to at least, oh, 2,000 other fine dining establishments before we ended up at the deadly shooting gallery that is the Emeryville Denny's.) At least Chris is happy to be there.
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