:: Burgers and bad golf ::
As I wrap up, sadly, my last day of vacation after two weeks off, I thought I'd wrap things up with a couple notes.
On Thursday, T.O. and I golfed at Peace Portal - a particularly nice course that I'd never played before. And, as I have been all summer, I was determined to break 100 even if the course was a) new to me, and b) particularly difficult.
You might have guessed by now that it did not happen. That would be correct. But while I only shot 106 - and I was at 80 after 13, but choked hard down the stretch - TO also did not have his 'A' game. (He finished at 91).
It was so bad, in fact, that the ever-classy T.O. described our game thusly after just a few holes:
"Fuck, this is just an abortion out here."
On an unrelated note, you may recall from the previous Vegas-themed post, that Christene's life was not complete until the moment she entered our bathroom at the Flamingo and there was a TV in it.
I had a similar experience last night, at Christene's family's annual neighbourhood block party, although it was not bathroom-related.
You see, Christene's neighbour across the street is an executive chef-type person at White Spot - she works with that big bald dude from the commercials. So, for the BBQ, she brought a whole ton of White Spot burgers to cook up - complete with the buns, pickles and of course, the delicious Triple-O sauce. So, when it was time to eat, I walked over to the table and there was literally an unlimited supply of triple-O burgers.
I almost had a heart attack just looking at it because, as some of you may know, I freaking love White Spot burgers.
It was glorious.
In fact, after eating my fair share of them last night, I even managed to snag myself a leftover one today, and am, as we speak, eating it for breakfast.
Yes, I know exactly what time it is. Don't judge me, assholes - I'm still on vacation.
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