Today's lesson of the day:
Getting stoned on the second hole of a golf course earns you a bottle of 1992 Dom Perignon.
Whoooooeeeeeeeee.
That's the sound of sunstroke, of Monstres juggling Gemplus-insignia'd golfballs in the reception hall, of sweet-lookin' Jean-Noel who dragged us out skydiving trying to hurl me out of the golfcart by making REALLY sharp turns on steep slopes.
We almost got kicked off the green three times, thankfully each time by a different Marshall. The first one was for Jean-Noel's drive-by scooping of our balls, the second was for, ahem, my threatening to get someone perished with the help of my 3-wood, and the third, well I was passed out in the golfcart by then.
Something to do with aiming at other players' carts as they drove by.
We made par a few times, wouldjabelieveit, Marie-Jo proposed to me but her ring only fit on my pinkie finger so apparently that's just a "maybe".
Did I mention the bottle of Dom Perignon? Good ol' Kebekois skunk sure do help smooth out yer swing, dontchaknow.
I can't believe I made the entire ride home, a band of cheering, jeering, carousing coworkers sandwiched in the back of my car.
I wish I had a bigger trunk, Martin woulda fit in there real good.
Anywaaaaaaay.
I'm taking my stoned ass to bed, until my cheeks cool down some so's I can see EQ over the radiation from my sunburn.
Golf was fun. I can see the attraction.
I'm quite satisfied now, tho.