...so is Fuck, or how many times can I say Fuck?

I use to be an avid golfer...three, four, maybe five times a week...but over the last several years...it has been once every two years or so.

I played with some friends today...can you say..."Fucking Circus"?

We pull up to the first tee. I pull my Driver out of my bag, and guess what comes out with it?...a fucking birds nest, thats what...there was a fucking birds nest in my fucking golf bag. Do you think they fucking laughed at that?...Damn.

We did the customary tee flip and it pointed to me, so I went first. My first ball went into outer space...my Mulligan went into the fucking woods....my third ball, the Clancy, went into the fucking parking lot. All this one in one out shit is confusing. My fourth ball went straight down the fucking fairway. After that, I had about 150 yards to the flag, and what do I do?...Smacked that fucker into nowhere land...un-fucking findable.

2nd hole tee box.

I'm last of course. What do I do?...I hit that fucking ball about 10,000 yards right down the middle of the fairway. I set up my second shot, and hit that fucker into the fucking lake. I drop another, and hit that fucker into the fucking woods...un-fucking findable.

3rd hole tee box. Par 3.

I hit a beautiful shot if you think landing right in the fucking middle of the fucking sand trap is a fucking good shot. Damn...I'm pumped. My second shot went into the fucking woods...un-fucking findable.

And so it goes...and on and on and on...for 15 more holes.

I lost every fucking ball in my fucking bag, but at least, I finished with all my clubs.

I fucking love fucking golf.

It is, what it is...