HHGR Roundup

HHGR's 15th Hole. A 187-yard, par 3, known as "Tierful."

Our annual golf outing at Heritage Hills Golf Resort was a rousing success. Well, the parts that I remember were pretty cool. Allow me to explain.

Last year, me and my friends Badger, Vinnie, and Fish cleaned out the bar's Shot of the Day: Washington Apples. Together we drank a total of 26 shots before our round, and while we were feeling pretty swell, we were sober enough to still play. This year, it rained cats and dogs in the hours before our tee time, so we thought we might as well settle in for a day's worth of drinkin'.

The next thing I know, I am sharing my pints of Guinness with shots of the following:

• Yager Bombs
• Kamikazes
• Screaming Nazis (Badger said it was like taking a shot of Crest.)
  
• Washington Apples (Three of them.)
  

I was well on my way to a new liver when it happened: the rain stopped and the sun came out. Oh frak, I thought, now I have to golf! And it wasn't pretty. The only thing I remember from Sunday's round is that I only ended up playing about eight holes, kept using the wrong club - trying to hit a ball out of the rough with my driver - and spent the rest of the day passed out while Fish was Driving Miss Wyatt.

Oh, and I remember the accident.

Picture this little scenario. The course's fifth hole is a short par three with a highly-elevated tee box. The road down to the green is steep and winds around a few times before the bridge that crosses the creek. Every year, my idiot friends and I gently "push" the front cart down the slope, in hopes of a spin out. Of course, no one ever thinks that someone will get hurt.

This time, someone did: it was Fish and I. According to the accounts - I didn't see the event, thanks to the alcohol - Badger pushed us down the slope, and rammed us right before the bridge. Our cart flipped over and landed on the driver's side. Fish slammed into the pavement, and I landed on top of him. Fish's finger was a little gnarled, and I suffered a cut that ran from my right ankle to my right knee. Still hurts like hell.


Other golfers ran over and tried to put the cart upright, while still more asked if Fish and I were okay. We were, and Badger was completely apologetic. It was dumb, but we're dumb guys, so . . . Ironically, my inebriation probably saved me from serious injury. I didn't react immediately to the crash, so I didn't try and break my fall with an arm or a leg. I broke my fall with Fish's back. Thanks, Fish!

The rest of the day couldn't get any worse, so after a late dinner, I went to my room and slept like the dead.

Monday was a much better day. I woke up on time, showered, dressed, and strapped on the breakfast feedbag. When my friends came down to the restaurant, we got together, went out to our carts, and waited for the tournament director to send us out. (For the record, there were close to 144 golfers at this year's tourney, which is set up by Badger and Deathlok's brother Sean.) We kept the al-key-hol under wraps and geared up for some serious golf.

Oh, the candids you capture when your friends are tipsy.

Unfortunately, we still stink on grass. We hit balls out of bounds, into the water, and onto other fairways, but we always have fun. We're are the typical Ugly Golfers, with little to no etiquette, and even less class. Most of us have no problem with ripping someone's wife during their backswing. I mean, we're not breaking 100, anyway, so why not enjoy the game?

Monday's round was uneventful. No drunkenness, no arguments, and no accidents. Fish was well to keep us behind Badger and Vinnie's cart all day. In fact, the only problem we faced was a big problem. A big problem with scales and a long tongue.

On the 16th hole, Fish launched a shot that came down near the creek. When we came to the location of the shot, we started looking in the creek and on the surrounding rocks for the ball. As I was walking down the creek bed, I saw this under a few large rocks:

Yeah, that's a snake in the center of the photo. I apologize for the quality, but my cell phone camera isn't the best. And, I wasn't getting anywhere near this thing. I was almost on top of it when I heard a loud hissing and saw the critter curl up and look at me.

Because I am a tough, big-city police detective, I screamed like a little girl, "Guys, get back!" When my pals asked what the problem was, I hysterically calmly said, "It's a snake. A big f**king snake!" Not one to believe me, Vinnie walked to my position, looked down, and said, "Wow, that's a big f**king snake!"

"I KNOW IT'S A BIG F**KING SNAKE! I JUST SAID THAT!!!"
When we calmed down a bit, we slowly moved away from the reptile and finished the round. I shot a 118, which is basically terrible, but we had a blast.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go find the Motrin.

Swing And A Long Drive!

L to R: Fish, Me (pre-diet), Vinnie, and Badger at the links.

It's that time of year again, kids! Time for our annual two-day golf trip in scenic York, PA. (Yeah, that would be Amish Country, gang.) My friends and I will be staying with 140 other golfers at the Heritage Hills Golf Resort. The trip, organized by Badger's brother Sean, includes room, breakfast buffet, two rounds of golf, and carts for less than $150. You cannot go wrong.

A few of my fellow bloggers will be there, including Deathlok and Grimjack, but this is not a social function, per se. You see, because when my friends and I aren't golfing, we'll be at the bar, drinking drafts of Guinness and taking shots of every liquor known to man. It's Heaven on earth. The fact that the weather report is showing thunderstorms on Sunday and Monday doesn't bode well for our golf games, but it bodes very well for our livers.

I realize the thought of me not being here scares the hell out of some of you - and gives most of you intense feelings of joy - but I am not leaving the blog dead in the water. The lovely and talented Jim from bRight & Early will be taking over in my absence. Please give him the same respect you give me. And by that, I mean call him a racist and a hate-monger. Heh.

I'll be back to posting Monday night . . . or Tuesday if I get really, really drunk.

Isenhour "Tripps" Up

Just when you thought PGA players were gentlemen, this idiot pops up.

ORLANDO, Fla. (AP)—PGA Tour player Tripp Isenhour was charged with killing a hawk on purpose with a golf shot because it was making noise as he videotaped a TV show.

Isenhour was with a film crew for “Shoot Like A Pro” on Dec. 12 at the Grand Cypress Golf course. The 39-year-old player, whose real name is John Henry Isenhour III, was charged Wednesday with cruelty to animals and killing a migratory bird.

Note to "Tripp:" BIRDS MAKE NOISE!!!

According to court documents, Isenhour got upset when a red-shouldered hawk began making noise, forcing another take. He began hitting balls at the bird, then 300 yards away, but gave up. Isenhour started again when the hawk moved within about 75 yards, Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission officer Brian Baine indicated in a report.

Isenhour allegedly said “I’ll get him now,” and aimed for the hawk.

“About the sixth ball came very near the bird’s head, and (Isenhour) was very excited that it was so close,” Baine wrote.

A few shots later, witnesses said he hit the hawk. The bird, protected as a migratory species, fell to the ground bleeding from both nostrils. (H/T - AP via Yahoo!)

When I first saw this story, I figured it was the jerkasses from PETA going kooky again. After reading the story, I have to admit that, if true, Isenhour is a skunk of the first order. Feel free to aim your golf balls at this arse clown if you see him on the course.

The Dumbass Of The Week

Congratulations Kelly Tilghman. You're the winner in a landslide!

HONOLULU (AP) — Golf Channel suspended anchor Kelly Tilghman for two weeks on Wednesday for saying last week that young players who wanted to challenge Tiger Woods should "lynch him in a back alley.''

Tilghman was laughing during the exchange Friday with analyst Nick Faldo at the Mercedes-Benz Championship, and Woods' agent at IMG said he didn't think there was any ill intent.

Faldo and Tilghman were discussing young players who could challenge the world's No. 1 player toward the end of Friday's broadcast at Kapalua when Faldo suggested that "to take Tiger on, maybe they should just gang up for a while.''

"Lynch him in a back alley,'' Tilghman replied. (H/T - CNN)

Will someone please give Tilghman a history book? Okay, bimbo, turn to the chapter about slavery. Got it? Good. Now, read aloud for the class, then discuss how "lynching" would make African-Americans feel a little uncomfortable.

Idiot.

Rory Sabbatini: Moron

Ya gotta love Rory Sabbatini. Guy plays golf only slightly better than me, and he thinks it's his place to call out Tiger Woods?

THOUSAND OAKS, Calif. (AP) -- Rory Sabbatini didn't let the year end without getting under Tiger Woods' skin one last time.

In a move that left players shaking their head, Sabbatini withdrew from the final round of the Target World Challenge on Sunday citing "personal reasons," the first player in the nine-year history of the event to leave early.

A locker room attendant, who spoke on condition of anonymity because he was not authorized to release information, said Sabbatini cleaned out his locker Saturday night saying he was headed to Maui, where he spends his Christmas vacation.

"They don't have any flights to Hawaii tonight?" Fred Couples said, shaking his head. "He's messing with the wrong guy."

Woods, the tournament host, shook his head when asked about Sabbatini but did not comment as he went to eat breakfast before preparing for the final round. Woods had a six-shot lead over Jim Furyk.

Sabbatini qualified for the 16-man field through his world ranking, which now is at No. 11. He finished at No. 6 on the PGA Tour money list with a career-high $4.5 million, but his year was best remembered for calling out Woods.

They played in the final round at the Wachovia Championship, where Woods overcame a one-shot deficit to win. Sabbatini, who had said he wanted Woods in the final group at Quail Hollow, said the following week that Woods looked as "beatable as ever."

"I've seen Tiger when he hits the ball well," Sabbatini said. "I've seen him when he figures it out. It's scary. I don't want to see that anymore. I like the new Tiger." (H/T - Yahoo!)

Hey, Rory - nice name, by the way - when you get to Hawaii, sit back, relax, and have a nice cool glass of shut the hell up!

Dumb, Blind Luck

Somewhere, Vincent Antonelli, The Badger, and Fish are currently screaming obscenities at the top of their lungs.

Blind Female Golfer Scores Hole-In-One

(CBS 3) LEHIGHTON, Pa. It is a wet and soggy day out on the links, but for 53-year-old Sheila Drummond, life is sunny.

On Sunday, while golfing at Mahoning Valley Country Club, in Lehighton, Carbon County, with her husband, in the drizzling rain, Drummond picked up her driver, her signature pink ball, and on the 4th hole, a par 3, with trees, water and two bunkers to deal with, she hit the impossible!

"He (her husband) said it headed toward the hole, and he said 'It's going in!' I said 'Are you sure?' We heard it hit the pin, he said 'It's in.' I said, are you sure? Can you see it that well?' So he jumped into the cart, drives over and says, 'It's in!'', Drummond said.

While hitting a hole in one is pretty rare, this one is even more unheard of because Sheila Drummond is blind. (H/T - KYW.com)

Blind? BLIND??? BLIND?!!! My friends and I have been playing golf for 20 years and we haven't even come close to an ace! And now a local blind woman does it? What the hell is going on here?!! Don't get me wrong: I'm happy for the gal, but come on! She's blind!!!

I swear to God, I am playing golf at Man's Weekend blindfolded this year. And if I don't get a hole-in-one, I will drink myself blind.

See What You Get When You Win 13 Majors?

It's been a long time since I posted a hot babe - Scully doesn't count, since hers was just a head shot - but it was only a few days since I posted about Tiger Woods. So, I figured, why not incorporate the two?

The Lovely Elin Nordegren: Mrs. Tiger Woods.

TULSA, Okla. (AP) -- In his greatest victories, Tiger Woods dominated the field and left the competition feeling deflated.

This time, the dissection was more cruel -- he actually let 'em hang around for a while.

The world's best player won the PGA Championship for his 13th career major victory Sunday, not by pulling away, but instead by hanging on after his lead dwindled from five to a single stroke for a moment on the back nine.

Then, as soon as his closest challengers were feeling glimmers of hope and golf fans were settling back down on their couches -- yank! -- Woods ended it in his efficient, methodical way. (H/T - Yahoo! Sports)

It's official: Tiger Woods is the greatest player in the world today. And pretty soon, he may be recognized as the greatest player the game has ever seen. Isn't that right, Elin?

Tiger Rules!

Just an entertaining cross-pimp for my post at Blogmeister USA. Tiger's making history again.

And remember, I'll be Guest Blogging at Pam's place all next week. Stop by and say hello.

HHGR Golf Outing Roundup

Our 6th Annual Heritage Hills Golf Resort excursion took place this weekend, and a good time was had by all. Of course, most of that "good time" involved the alcohol and not our golf games. I mean, my friends and I stink anyway, and HHGR is a very difficult course. Halfway through our first round, Vinnie said, "Well, we're playing lousy, so we may as well get hammered."

Now, that's the spirit!

Vinnie, Fish, and I arrived at the clubhouse at noon on Sunday. Since we weren't due to tee off until 2pm, we hit the bar to meet Badger. Go figure. After ordering pints of Guinness, a cute little waitress came toward our table carrying a tray of shots. She asked Vinnie if he wanted one. Bad move. Vinnie asked what they were, and she replied, "Southern Apples. It's Southern Comfort, Apple Schnapps, and . . . " That's all Vinnie heard, since he was too busy rounding up all of the dollar bills in his wallet. We each tried one, and let me tell you, these things were heaven on earth!

So we bought another.

Um, then another.

When she left our table, we cleaned her out of her first 12 shots. Not too bad. For her, that is, since three shots apiece in about five minutes was not our brightest idea before a golf round. Anyway, the waitress was having trouble moving the Southern Apples, so she stopped by our table a few minutes later.

We bought the rest of her tray. Vinnie, in a class move, said, "We'll take the tray. You know what? Just leave the tray here." After downing the shots on the tray, we were up to a total of eighteen between the four of us. In twenty minutes. (Since we thought no one would believe us, Vinnie took the below photo of the 18 empty shot cups - and our pints of Guinness - with his camera phone.)

When the waitress made her second round, she came to us last. Deathlok's friend Jim bought us some more shots, which cleaned out her second tray. We kept the tray at our table for posterity, too. Total shot count before golfing: 25. In thirty minutes. (Vinnie, Badger, and I each had six, and Fish had five. Jim took the rest.)

Suffice to say, we did not golf all that well as a whole. Considering the fact that the four of us also downed a half bottle of Jameson and a half bottle of Chocolate Cake shots in five hours, our livers were waving the white flag. After the first round, we went to our rooms, showered, and went to dinner. After dinner, we brought out the Guinness and shots again at the bar. Deathlok and his pals marveled (read: laughed at) our idiocy, but we had a terrific time. Especially Fish. I had to "escort" him back to his room at 11pm, because when he stood, he had to sway back and forth. Mental note: when you're drunk yourself, it's difficult to half-carry a friend up three flights of steps.

Monday came - by the grace of the Lord - and for some reason, none of us were worshiping the porcelain god. We all made the 7am breakfast before the 8am tee off. We were hurting with the alcohol and lack of sleep, but we made it. Ironically, no one wanted anything to do with beer or liquor this day. We still golfed like hell, but it was a blast. It's the one event besides Man's Weekend where we can all get a little crazy. I can't wait until next year!

Editor's Note: The author of this post in no way condones binge drinking. Morons such as my friends and I have little brain matter to lose, so we're okay with it.
(Vinnie's photo of our 18 shots. The waitress' tray is on the right.)

Run For The Hills

Me, Fish, and Vinnie. Badger is passed out drunk in his room.

This weekend will see the continuation of an SYLG tradition: our annual golf trip to Heritage Hills Golf Resort. The overnight trek includes two days of golf (with carts), a room at the on-site hotel, and breakfast buffet on Monday morning. We leave at the crack of "Jesus Christ, it's early" Sunday. Badger's brother Sean is the brains behind the trip, and for the last few years, our outing has booked the resort solid. I believe we have 144 golfers this weekend. Sweet.

My foursome consists of myself, Badger, Vinnie Antonelli, and Fish. Our weekend is pretty standard. We make fun of each other, wager money on idiotic golf bets, and taunt each other during their back swings. Oh, and we drink. A lot. On almost every Monday morning - after the usual Sunday night kegger - Badger stays passed out past our tee time, and Vinnie spends way too much time eating at the buffet, while Fish and I are usually patiently waiting outside. Last year, all three were late, and when Fish finally stumbled out of the hotel, he almost fell down while carrying his golf bag. Nice!

This year will be different. Why? Well, not because we are giving up alcohol. This year will be different because we will be drinking even more. See, Vinnie and Badger thought up a terrific side game for the weekend. When a player scores par on a hole, the other three must do a shot of Jameson Whiskey. The player making par will do a shot of chocolate cake. Now, we all suck at golf, but even a blind golfer catches a par once in a while. I figure we'll be comatose before dinner.

Oh well, it's better than working, right?

We should be home by dinner on Monday evening, which will give us just enough time to make our ice hockey practice at 8pm!

Man's Weekend, Part 2

Friday, Day 2: Let 'Em "Pour"

Day Two started early, as we had an eleven o’clock tee time at Shore Gate Golf Club. After feeling queasy at the fees – Eighty dollars? Get out of here! – we trudged onto the rain-soaked course, which had more sand than Qatar. Thankfully, Vinnie continued his alcohol-induced exploits by drinking lots and lots of “Par Juice,” also known as vodka gimlets. A few holes later, he was playing demolition derby with the golf carts, and using “creative math” for his scores. By the end of the day, most of us were in the triple digits and laughing at yet another drunken Vinnie.

We went back to the house, where Vinnie screamed through another ice cold shower – the heat and electricity in the bungalow were kaput – and we prepared for the greatest bar ever: The Pour House. The Pour House is an Irishman’s dream; Guinness on tap, authentic Irish food, and a photo of an uber-hot nameless redhead near the front door. Friday nights are Pint Nights, and every participant gets a Pour House pint glass. I think Vinnie acquired a dozen of them throughout the years, and uses them as his good china.

At the Pour House, we suffered through another Flyers loss, but at least Vinnie and Badger were having a good time. A group of old bitties – they had to be at least 40 – came into the bar and took a liking to my jackass friends. Vinnie and Badger gave them the attention they so desperately craved, and although nothing happened, they made the old bats’ day.

As for me, I can’t remember how many pints of Guinness I downed, but I drove everyone home. For some unknown reason, Guinness rarely gets me hammered. The last we saw Badger and Vinnie, they followed the octogenarians to LaCosta. It was probably Geritol Night.

Golfing Takes A Lot Of Balls

It is said that alcohol dissipates with time. One could also say that drunken memories come back with time. The HHGR recap was missing a few key moments, such as Badger’s 96-foot putt on the ninth green - Yes, we walked out the distance – and Fish’s amazing display of accuracy after consecutively hitting a yardage marker, and two trees on a single hole. There were sound bites galore, which would make a halfway decent list.

Top Ten Things Overheard At HHGR

10. “I went to church today. I raise my kids right.” – Fish, thanking God after his ball skipped off a pond and onto the 18th green.
9. “Jesus, Badger, do you have to break wind every three minutes?” - Everyone
8. “The last time I saw Fish, he was ‘resting’ on a chair at 5am.” – Badger
7. “I’m still drunk.” – Fish, moments before our tee time.
6. “Nice divot. That would make a great toupee, Vinnie.” – Wyatt
5. “Nice hit, Vinnie. Does your husband play?” – Badger
4. “That putt isn’t bad . . . (Ball quickly rolls past the cup.) . . . Now it is.” - Badger
3. “Wyatt, did you pee your pants?” - Badger
2. “Yes, I did.” – Wyatt (Smiling)

And the number one thing overheard at HHGR is . . .

1. “Someone ask that girl if she is wearing panties!” – Vinnie

Cinderella . . . Out Of Nowhere . . .

Well, I have finally recovered from the Third Annual HHGR Golf Outing. All of the alcohol is out of my system, and after eleven hours of sleep last night, I think I am finally caught up. It takes a hell of a lot of energy to shoot two miserable rounds of 114 and 111, respectively.

Due to language issues - and threats from my friends - about 85% of the outing could never be posted on a public blog, but here are some of the highlights:

• Vinnie and I pulled up to the resort at noon. By 12:30, Vinnie was downing vodka gimlets. Both he and Badger referred to it as "Par Juice."
• After many, many bad experiences, I had my first taste of vodka in almost five years. It tasted like burning.
• My foursome consisted of me, Vinnie, Fish, and Badger. As early as the second hole of the first round, our lack of golf etiquette was exposed. PGA Tour players rarely make wiseass comments about other player's wives/girlfriends in the middle of a backswing.
• Halfway through the first round, the cart girls stopped by. After Vinnie and Badger were done getting more beer, they tipped them pretty well. As soon as they left, Badger said, "I think they liked us." Yeah, they find big tippers dead sexy!
• We lost our first round bet with Badger's brother's foursome by three lousy strokes - which was immediately my fault - so it was off to the pub for dinner and more alcohol. Being the smart one - or the "wuss" if you listen to my friends - I went to bed at 2:15am. Vinnie and Badger rolled in around 3-4am. Fish? Not so much.
• As our tee time approached, there was still no sign of Fish. He finally stumbled to our carts at 8am, threw his bag onto his cart, and almost fell down. Vinnie said, "Wow, Fish, you like like death." Fish responded, "I'm still drunk." Nice.
• Alcohol must be "Par Juice" for Fish, because he shot the lights out on the front nine. As we approached the snack bar after the ninth hole, he said, "I think I finally woke up." He then proceeded to enter the snack bar, and get a pint of Guinness! Now, that's a real guy.
• Deathlok was abused for his choice of hats: a jeff cap made with different colored patches. I told him he looked like Jimmy Olsen, and should be standing on a corner saying, "Extra! Extra! Read all about it!" He was not amused.

On a very positive note, Sean - Badger and Deathlok's brother, who ran the outing - held a 50/50 to benefit the family of slain Police Officer Gary Skerski. The 50/50 took in a total of $1,500, and the winner - a Detective named Jack Wright - won $750, but then gave $250 of that to the family's total, giving them a total of $1,000!

As They Say In The 'Hood, "My Bad."

Sorry about not posting yesterday, kids. My reasons were two-fold: first, I am still in a funk about the horrible week I had, and second, Sunday was a very busy day.

If there was anything that was gonna break me outta the dumps, golfing with my friends would be the front-runner. Twelve of us planned a trip to Mainland Golf Course, despite the overcast skies. Of course, since we're talking about me here, it was a miracle I ever got to go.

At 10am, my friend Denny calls and wakes me up - 10am on my day off is like calling me at 3am - and says he need me to run to Lowe's with him to buy wooden fencing. Swell. I'm still hung over from Saturday night's viewing of The Aristocrats (and the subsequent Olde City bar hopping), and I'm supposed to be on the road to the course by noon. I shower and run up to Denny's for some manual labor.

We get to Lowe's, and (eventually) find the fencing he is looking for. What strikes me first is the price (Yikes!) . . . then the weight (each of the four pieces weighed a ton). Of course, the four top pieces aren't good enough for Den - he has to sort through them like he's buying melons. One sweat-soaked hour later, we are on our way home. I help him toss the pieces in his yard and speed to the course.

We get there - sure enough, it's raining - pay our fees, and commence the festivities. (Now, mind you, my friends are even more brutal and vicious than my family, and have no regard for golf etiquette.) This plays well with the fact that we play for money, so rude and disgusting comments during a guy's backswing are commonplace. For example, my friend Brian (who is teaming with my brother-in-law Mike) needs to sink a two-foot putt to tie me and my friend Chris. Just as Bri is beginning to hit the ball, Chris says, "Man Boobs." (No, I have no idea what that means, but it was damn funny - and effective - Bri missed the putt.) Get the idea? We're pretty brutal. Surprisingly enough, we all did fairly well (for us). Mike shot a 100, Chris shot a 104, I shot a 105, and Brian shot a 109. A good time was had by all.

And I'm finally out of the doldrums.