It’s official

By purchasing my first set of golf clubs I’ve single handedly saved the game of golf. Because we all know how much it sucked before I came along. As your new golf leader I intend on enacting and personally enforcing the following rules…

1. Knickers and ugly pants were worn in the game over a hundred years ago. Unless you are one hundred years or older (cause then it’s just cute), take them off, they look ridiculous!

2. When you see me coming, get the fuck out of my way. Being 3 days older than Christ does not give you the right to play in less than slow motion.

3. Making fun of me or my kick ass girl golf clubs is a capitol offense. The sentence is, death by Aza’s 9 iron.

These new policies are effective immediately! How on earth can I justify rocking the very foundation on which golf was laid? What qualifies me as your new gold leader? It’s simple really, I am to golf what Dale Earnhardt Jr. is to basketball.

Seriously though, D plays, Kojak plays, everyone plays. I’m surrounded by golfers so while kicking and screaming in protest I finally cried “Uncle” and I got a set of chick clubs. I’m happy to announce that even though I gave in, I have no intention whatsoever of succumbing to the craptastic thrift store fashion made infamous by the game.

Kojak is quite the golfer so I’ve drafted him as my personal coach. Bless his heart, knowing that I have the temper of a Tasmanian devil in heat after being poked in the eye with a stick, he’s still willing to teach. Pray for him.

So in summary, when you see me on the LPGA tour or The Big Break launching all of my golf shit into the pond, getting into fist fights with my caddy Happy Gilmore style, knocking people out with my 450 yard putts, just sit back and enjoy the show.

It’s not a tumor and

No, I’m not a leper, it’s a zit. Thanks for asking, asshat!

UHG!!! I have a zit. Satan apparently impregnated my right cheek with an unholy spawn from hell the size of a 6 month old baby when I wasn‘t looking. It’s driving me absolutely freaking bonkers! I’ve tried ichthomol ointment, warm compresses and squeezing the ever loving Christ out of it. My efforts have only pissed it off and made it take up a stronger hold on my red, puffy and inflamed face. I’ve entertained the idea that maybe it’s not a zit. Remember the ol’ spider eggs story? It‘s been told a hundred different ways but they all have the same ending- they hatch. Here’s the way I heard it.

The short, short version in comma form…Girl wakes up with a small “zit” on her cheek, she is told to leave it alone as picking at it will only make it worse, “zit” grows itchy and somewhat painful, a few days pass, the “zit” is now huge and terribly uncomfortable (much like my current situation), mother suggests daughter take a hot bath and apply a compress, upon submerging in bath and within moments of applying compress her cheek erupts disgorging (I so dig that word!) thousands of tiny spiders. Hence, it was never a “zit”, a spider had laid eggs in her face.

So now I’m sure you understand why I want to take a scalpel and a dash of C4 to my face right now.

Have you seen these?

Only something this stupid could be so popular. What’s next, fake vaginas glued to the back of station wagons?


Let me start this by saying, if you have these on your vehicle- please stop reading now. You are an idiot and my blog is anti-you.

That being said, you may be asking yourself, "Wouldn’t someone be ashamed of themselves driving around town sporting a set of tea bags swinging from their bumper?" The answer is a resounding NO. People with these on their vehicles are too stupid to be ashamed of themselves. Your initial reaction may be to try to reason with these inept individuals. Don’t waste your time, you might as well forego even attempting to explain to them why putting fake testicles on their truck is so incredibly mentally defunct. People with truck nuts are just begging for an intervention. It is up to you, good citizen, to intervene in the form of a flip-flop bitch slap as this is the only action that these idiots will comprehend.

These retarded “accessories” just scream, “I have an incredibly small penis and am desperate to draw attention away from the fact that I was horribly picked on in my junior high gym class. It’s so small people often mistake me for a woman when I disrobed. I am uneducated and am an embarrassment to my entire family. Did I mention my penis is a terrible disappointment both in size and capability?”

A fellow blogger and one of the sweetest people around needs prayers

Latté Girl is in the hospital. Please send prayers and positive energy her way for a quick recovery.