“I have to admit,” I said when he finished a lengthy discussion on the types of drivers, “I’ve been golfing and it’s about the most boring thing I’ve ever done. Old men drive around in golf carts pretending they’re sporty and getting grouchy if there’s any noise. It’s like the nursing-home Olympics.”
Nick’s mouth dropped open. “It takes great athletic ability to know how to aim and drive the ball that far.”
“I get more exercise shopping at the mall,” I joked. “I don’t come home and tell everyone I won at shopping.” Although those red shoes I got on sale the other day felt like a win.”
A fellow was getting ready to tee off by himself on the first hole when a tall, stately, grey haired gentleman approached and asked if he could join him.
The first man said that he usually played alone, but agreed to the twosome.
They were even after the first two holes.
The tall, stately gentleman said, We’re about evenly matched, how about playing for five bucks a hole?’
The first fellow said he was a pretty good player, and that he wasn’t much for betting, but agreed to the terms, thinking we’re pretty even so far, so why not?
The stately gentleman played ‘straight & true’ golf the rest of the round and won the remaining sixteen holes with ease.
As they were walking off the 18th green, and while counting his $80, the tall, stately golfer confessed that he was the teaching pro at a neighboring course and liked to pick on suckers.
The first fellow revealed that he was the parish priest.
The pro got all flustered and apologetic, offering to return the money.
The priest said, ‘You won fair and square and I was foolish to bet with you. You keep your winnings.’
The pro said, ‘Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?’
The priest said, ‘Well, you could come to mass on Sunday and make donation. And, if you want to bring your mother and father along, I’ll marry them.’
A wife asks her husband, “Honey, if I died, would you re-marry?”
After a considerable period of grieving, I guess I would. We all need companionship.”
“If I died and you re-married,” the wife asks, “would she live in this house?”
“We’ve spent a lot of money getting this house just the way we want
it. I’m not going to get rid of my house. I guess she would.”
“If I died and you re-married, and she lived in this house,” the wife asks, “would she sleep in our bed?”
“Well, the bed is brand new, and it cost us $2,000. It’s going to
last a long time, so I guess she would.”
“If I died and you re-married, and she lived in this house and slept in our bed, would she use my golf clubs?”
“Oh, no,” the husband replies. “She’s left-handed.”
The 70 year old who was watching him was amazed at the man’s stamina and asked him what he did to have so much energy.
The 80 year old said, “Well, I eat rye bread every single day. Rye bread helps keep your energy level high, and it also gives you great stamina with the ladies.”
Well the 70 year old man was impressed, so on the way home he stopped at the bakery.
As he was looking around, the saleslady asked him if he needed any help.
He replied, “Do you have any rye bread?”
She said, “Yes we do, there is a whole shelf of it over there. Would you like me a get you some?”
He said, “Yes please, actually I would like five loaves.”
“My goodness, five loaves!” she said. “By the time you get to the 3rd loaf, it’ll be hard.”
The man replied, “I can’t believe that everybody knows about this but me!
ODE TO GOLF.
In My Hand I Hold A Ball,
White And Dimpled, And Rather Small.
Oh How Bland It Does Appear,
This Harmless Looking Little Sphere.
By Its Size I Could Not Guess,
Or The Awesome Strength It Does Possess.
But Since I Fell Beneath Its Spell,
I’ve Wandered Through The Fires Of Hell.
My Life Has Not Been Quite The Same,
Since I Chose To Play This Stupid Game.
It Rules My Mind For Hours On End,
A Fortune It Has Made Me Spend.
It Has Made Me Curse And Made Me Cry,
And Hate Myself And Want To Die.
It Promises Me A Thing Called Par,
If I Hit It Straight And Far.
To Master Such A Tiny Ball,
Should Not Be Very Hard At All.
But My Desires The Ball Refuses,
And Does Exactly As It Chooses.
It Hooks And Slices, Dribbles And Dies,
And Disappears Before My Eyes.
Often It Will Have A Whim,
To Hit A Tree Or Take A Swim.
With Miles Of Grass On Which To Land,
It Finds A Tiny Patch Of Sand.
Then Has Me Offering Up My Soul,
If Only It Would Find The Hole.
It’s Made Me Whimper Like A Pup,
And Swear That I Will Give It Up.
And Take To Drink To Ease My Sorrow,
But The Ball Knows … I’ll Be Back Tomorrow.