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  • Writer's pictureMr. Jamoke


When the dude shushed us I almost lost my shit. I sat there fighting back my rage and desire to knock him out. This douche was on such thin ice with me. Cooler heads prevailed and I ended up using my life experience and guile to maneuver through this situation. More on that later.

Let me explain something to you all. People with my complexion typically don’t golf. Immigrants with my complexion definitely don’t golf. Anything that requires more than cleats and a ball is typically out of our price range and highly uninteresting. When my body breaks/slows down to the point where I can’t play sports, I’ll consider my options with various games like golf. Even then, darts, bocce, croquet, will likely be more appealing to me. Thus, when you invite me to a “boozy brunch” and tell me that “we’ll also have the US Open on” I assume that the “US Open” is but a mere pretext for getting hammered on Sunday morning.

Big mistake. 30 minutes into the brunch I’m confused by two guys who aren’t drinking but are fixated on the TV. They’re commenting to each other about how “XXXX doesn’t do well on this course” or “struggles with the 3 Iron”. I wrote them off as losers who must be related to my buddy’s wife or something. The pity invite. 30 minutes after that I turn around and see about 7-8 people watching and making comments like “what a masterful shot”. WTF is going on!?

I’m unemployed, bitch! I’ve got my severance package in my back pocket and I’m getting unemployment benefits. I got nothing to do Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, next Wednesday… and I’m getting handsomely rewarded for it. I’m on my third Bloody Mary, about to move onto my 4th, and talking about real sports with one of the select few other people that was clearly duped by the nature of this brunch event.

Our conversation (about real sports) must have gotten animated and loud because the same guy that would later shush us asked us to keep it down. We obliged for a while but 15 minutes and another Bloody Mary later we had forgotten about his annoying feedback and he again asked us to quiet down. Not having it this time, I walked in front of the TV and asked the group: “How is Shooter McGavin doing? Is he under par?”. Not subtle, not trying to be funny, this was my declaration of war against all of these dweebs taking golf seriously.

30 minutes later. “Shhhhhhhhhhhhh!”. Stunned and furious I turn around and see my nemesis glaring at my new buddy and I, pointer finger on his lips.

Ok. Fuck this guy. Time to get him outta here so that I can booze liberally and not be hassled by golf-watching douchebags. But how? Five minutes later, his girlfriend walks in to the kitchen area where I’m chilling to make herself a bagel. “So, are you a big golf fan too?” Her response: “To be honest, not really……..” Jackpot! I didn’t listen to the rest of her statement, it was irrelevant, she had given me the opening I needed. My new friend and I spent the next 30 minutes peppering her with questions about herself. Nothing else was discussed. She loved the attention but was also just uncomfortable enough by it to keep slugging Mimosas. 4 Mimosas later, I recognized that she was on the ropes and I went in for the finish. “Wanna take a quick shot?”. “Sure!”…. The shot didn’t do her any favors. It was quickly followed by hiccups and a dash to the bathroom.

Very soon after. “Hey bud, I think your girlfriend isn’t doing too hot. You should probably check up on her.” Five minutes later, the golf enthusiast douchebag and his girlfriend are out of the picture entirely, the channel has changed to football, sanity triumphs, people are actually having a good time. A momma’s boy polluting my Sunday Funday with some weak-ass, country club bullshit. I won’t stand for it.

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