I love golfing, but it does not love me back. I am dangerous on a golf course. If you follow me at all, you will know that OMG might mean “Oh My Groin”, or even “Oh My Golfing.” Let me tell you of a time when the two came together.
I started golfing late in high school. I even took lessons. It didn’t matter. I have never shot below 100. Well one day in high school my father took me golfing and I think I scored 120 on the front nine. As I stood all dejected on the 9th green, I was swinging my 9 iron, when my father came to cheer me up. Big mistake on his part. As he stood to the left side of me, he failed to recognize that I was swinging said 9 iron. For some bizarre reason, I moved and yes, you guessed it “Oh My Groin!” My father collapsed on the green and people were rushing to attend to him. They all thought he might have suffered a heart attack. Well yeah, but only after I attacked his groin! I didn’t mean it, I swear, I absolutely idolize my father. Even to this day when I pull out the 9 iron, he is nowhere to be seen.
So fast forward a few years and in my 20’s I was golfing with some friends when my ball immediately found its target – a tree. Not just any tree, but a tree with a squirrel in it. One chance in a bazillion to hit that squirrel and I did it. I’m sorry squirrel, I really am. So now wherever I go there is an alarm that squirrels sound off. The birds and other rodents all recognize this alarm and have left not only the fairway, but also the county. Most of the times they are completely safe as I am regularly known not to drive past the women’s tee, which gives all the women in line behind us a chuckle. I can still hear them say “Wuss!”
Now to continue on with the “Oh My Golfing” tales – in my late 40’s my father and I again, had a close encounter. It was my second shot and he pulled the golf cart about five feet in front of me. I warned him, I did. “Pull back the cart.” He insisted he was safe. Well as usual the ball headed right to the nearest tree and ricocheted back at the cart. Luckily the safety Plexiglas prevented my assassin’s shot from succeeding.
Now at age fifty-three I have decided to take up archery. I have forewarned my father and sent a tweet to all #Squirrels. The term “Straight as an arrow” is about to be tested and all rules of physics broken. Well at least I’m done with the OMG 9-iron.