Well, I went on a date this weekend. BOOOYA! Ok, I called it a date-she probably called it charity, or to quote her police report, “A disgusting invasion of personal space.”
So I can’t be within 500 feet of her anymore… I can handle a long distance relationship.
This is how it all went down.
We met through mutual friends.
I inquired if she would like to join me as well as 10 of those mutual friends for an evening of fine dining and miniature golf.
Cunningly, I “forgot” to invite the 10 friends – works every time.
I picked her up around 6 p.m. We were going to play putt-putt, so I dressed accordingly; plaid knickers, an orange sweater vest, and golf shoes – metal spikes.
She opened the door and was obviously impressed by the stylish outfit. She said she had to get a picture. Like my dad always said, “dress for success.”
We got into my station wagon, or as my personalized license plate reads, “SHGNWGN.”
She looked amazing.
I put the sun-roof back and winked at her as I played The Best of Starship “Set The Night To Music.”
After what she said seemed like an eternity, we made it to the putt-putt course.
I popped the hatch back and pulled out my Ping Zing 2 putter, ripped of the head-cover and gave it a kiss on its sweet spot as I eyed her from across the car.
She said, “You brought your own putter?”
“Yeah,” I said, “and you can touch it if you’re lucky.”
Oh yeah, she was getting hot.
“Where is everybody? I thought you said they were gonna meet us here.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, they said the were going to be running late, but for us not to wait for them.”
I told you it worked.
Boy, did she suck at putt-putt. I beat her by like 23 strokes. I decided that we should play another round, so maybe I could teach her a thing or two about short game.
The first hole was a dog-leg right with a mean windmill blocking the hole.
“It’s all in the hips,” I said as I put my hands on her thighs and moved her body from side to side.
She gripped the club tighter. Oh yeah, baby. She was putting out quite the vibe, so I decided to act. I reached around and grabbed her left-ouch!
When I came to, I found myself hand-cuffed and in a lot of pain. Kinky, not so much.
From the back seat of the cop car, I saw her talking to an officer.
She was crying, obviously worried about my well being.
I yelled out to her, “don’t worry, I’m fine. Maybe we’ll go bowling sometime.”
She gave me the finger. “That’s odd,” I thought. Maybe I should have let her win.