Coming soon to a country club near you!
[ 8 Comments ] Posted on 07.20.05 in family, sports
We Petersons have a sad and sorry history when it comes to the game of golf. My father brought a new level of amateurism to the sport when he started way back when the dinosaurs roamed the earth and has since passed along the torch of suckiness to his two sons.
Yesterday, in an attempt to feel rich, my brother and I traveled out to a local course. We qualified it as such: he’s soon to be a lawyer, and lawyers need to golf. Anyhow, we teed off on the first hole with positive attitudes and optimistic outlooks. By the 18th green, however, our hopes and dreams were cut at the seams.
Ian and I started this par 53 course with boxes and boxes of shiny new golf balls. We finished the course with (very lenient) scores of 85 and 99, respectively, and one golf ball.
One ball.
By the 18th tee, we had managed to lose upwards of 20 balls and were forced to play the hole separately. I used the remaining ball to finalize my already miserable stroke count and then brought it back to the tee so that my brother could finish up the course. That, my friends, is Peterson golf at its finest.
Perhaps we should just stick to video games.
It’s how you play the game
[ 4 Comments ] Posted on 07.09.05 in family, funny stories
If you’ve never played The Penis Game, you are either above the age of 20 or a total loser. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the sport, here’s a quick 411:
One person says the word “penis” in a public place. Another person, having accepted Player One’s challenge, then says “penis” at a higher decibel. In variations of the game, another person is generally the unofficial judge and confirms whether or not Player Two’s exclamation was louder. The two players each repeat their turns and the loser is the person who lacks the confidence to continue shouting the sullied word.
Now, my family is a unique bunch. We’ve been playing for years, and my mother is almost always our competition. She never misses a good round of The Penis Game.
Yesterday, the family was in the state capitol, and when we entered the solemn sanctuary known as the Florida Supreme Court, I couldn’t help myself. I nudged my mom and the contest was on.
Though the game was very short lived (as my mother was far too embarrassed to play in such a setting), it was very exciting. Needless to say, after all was said and done, I was the champion. Yes, folks, that’s right – I was the victor in the highest court in the State of Florida.
That’s one down, 49 to go.
It’s Baxter!
[ 4 Comments ] Posted on 04.13.05 in animals, family
A few years ago, when my 17 year old cat named Sam died three days after my dog, the Peterson family was reduced to owning and caring for one cat. And at first, it was alright. It was nice to have an animal around the house filling my Miniature Chelty’s role as resident furry thing that poops.
Mind you, however, that I brought this cat, Lucky, home from preschool. That would make him 12. Sixty four in cat years. That’s old. And it’s showing.
Since about four years ago, Lucky’s had a very demanding nighttime schedule that, luckily, I am not responsible for maintaining. Each morning at about three, his high-pitched squeal that has devolved and can no longer be considered a meow rings throughout the house, waking my poor father, consistently and without fail. Then good ole Pop gets out of bed, letting the cat outside to do whatever cats do in the wee hours of the morning.
Then, I get up at five and ignore the mindless droning of feline desire so that I don’t have to deal with the morning feeding chores – particularly because I have no idea what to feed this thing. Enter my father, who’s been through the regiment morning after morning for years. My mother is very particular about her cat; she’s outlined a system concerning what food the cat eats at particular junctures that is more intricate and complex than most women. And, my friends, women are enigmas.
And so, upon allowing entrance to the most annoying animal God decided to put on this green earth, Dad has to feed it the food prescribed by the mandate of the matriarch of the household and wait until its next session of crying, whereupon someone lets the cat outside only to be forced to let it back inside again.
When everyone leaves the homestead to attend to their daily affairs, the cat sleeps the day away atop the back of our blue recliner, which is nice and peaceful. Until it has to poop. Then, it goes and squats in the same place every time. Every time. And I clean it up every time. Every time.
Unbeknownst to my mother, I’ve proposed that we kill the cat. However, by posting it here, the secret’s out. Therefore, I guess I can’t get away with it. On the other hand, it would be an absolute travesty Lucky accidentally disappeared. A real tearjerker, let me tell you.
I’m currently accepting bids on the job.