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.