GolfFL title

Just as there is no wrong way to eat a Reese’s, there is no “right way” to hit a golf ball. This is something I’ve learned after years and years of hitting golf balls (notice I did not say “years and years of playing golf,” because most of my time golfing is spent on the shooting range, hitting balls and doing some chippy-putty afterwards).

In all these years of golf club swinging, I’ve figured out that there is no one “correct way” to hit a golf ball, but there are definitely millions of things that you can be and are doing wrong. I know this because every person who has ever tried to “improve my golf swing” with some hot tip or quick lesson has told me something different that I am doing wrong (and there’s a whole lotta wrong with my golf swing).

My golf career started back in high school. At first I would go to the shooting range with my golfer buddy and hit balls with his clubs. One day, my other “golf buddy” was getting new golf clubs the next day and offered to give me his old clubs. I offered him all of the money in my wallet at the time (which was ten dollars) and my fake Rolex (which I happened to be wearing at the time). I’m sure it stopped working very soon after. It was a great deal (for me).

To this day, these are still my current golf clubs. I did pick up some others along the way, which were also given to me. I added a putter and some woods to my collection, but never a driver. I picked up a sweet golf bag of holding, as well.

Golf lessons are a bigger sham than the McDonald’s Monopoly game back in the 1900’s. If you took a one hour golf lesson with five different people, I’m sure you’d have five totally different critiques on your golf game. Swinging a golf club is like jazz music, it’s not about the things you’re doing right, it’s about all the things you’re not doing at all (that may not make any sense, but maybe it does to a few people who like jazz music).

I think golf can probably be a relaxing activity, if you know what you’re doing (but I would never call golf a sport). Most people drive around in a little cart instead of doing the one part that can be considered a sport — walking. Pros have a bag boy who carries their stuff and tells them exactly what to do. Fans are told to be quiet (in a basketball game, I’m allowed to scream as someone tries to make a free throw, but in golf I can’t make any sound while someone is swinging their club?) There’s a fancy dress code. Sports don’t have fancy dress codes.

There is so much to think about when swinging any golf club, but once you’re actually playing nine or eighteen holes, you need to drop all the thinking and be able to rely on your muscle memory. I haven’t learned how to do that yet, so I will continue to whack balls at the shooting range and play chippy-putty afterwards.



FL title

Last week I learned a very valuable lesson about myself — I HATE STUPID ASS RULES!

On more than one occasion I’ve had an establishment tell me some dumb ass, made-up rule, and my opinion about that establishment instantly changed from, “Oh this place is kind of neat,” to, “EFF this EFFin’ place! I’m out of here, and I ain’t never coming back! EVER!” And there are three examples that I can think of off the top of my head, and two of these happened in the past two weeks.

# 1

The first one that came to mind is why PURDY LOUNGE is on my Blacklist (which consists of places I will not go to, and people I will not hang out with). My Blacklist isn’t written out anywhere, but maybe it should be. If I had an actual Blacklist to reference I could have written about endless occasions where a stupid rule has kept me out of places. I also could have wrote about the stupid people who I’ve blocked out of my life.

So, back to PURDY LOUNGE. I had only been about two or three times, and my rating was already a “HmmmMeeehh…” It was weeknight after class at the Miami Ad School (it may have been after a graduation, the one where I did my stand up set). I went with some friends from school to get pizza on Lincoln Road, at PIZZA RUSTICA (more like Pizza CRAP-stica! Am I right? HIGH FIVE!).

After Pizza, we decided to walk and meet some other school kids at PURDY LOUNGE. When we arrived the angry doorman told me, NO HATS ALLOWED. (Which was a big stinkin’ pile of BS, because I’ve seen people wear hats in PURDY LOUNGE. I’ve seen people in hats every time I had been there). I told him I could put my hat in my friends purse and he told me, NO, because then I would put it back on when I was inside.

The problem was my car was more than a mile away. He finally let me put the hat in my friends purse, but he did say, “If anyone sees you with that hat on, they gonna kick you out!” Yeah, I got it buddy, you’re very committed to this whole NO HATS POLICY you just made up. Like I’m some kind of idiot who is going to walk in and just put my hat back on. Then I walked into PURDY LOUNGE and everyone was wearing a hat *.

* I haven’t been to PURDY LOUNGE since then, and I plan on not going back ever. Not even for a birthday.

# 2

Some time in January a few of my friends and I decided we should learn how to Golf. Three of us already own golf clubs that we never use, so we thought — Hey, now would be a good time to learn. After over a full month of whacking balls at MELREESE by the airport, they decided to tell us, “Hey, you gotta wear a collared shirt here.” (and I told him, ‘Come on man! You don’t call them collard people?’ – Michael Scott, the Office, Season 1, 2005)

Up to that day I had only worn t-shirts, every time I went to MELREESE. My friend even wore a tank top one time. So, no sleeves is fine but if you have sleeves, you need a collar too?

If the guy would have told us this our first time, then maybe I would have said, “OK, collared shirt next time.” I do have my team USA soccer jersey which has a collar. But, since he waited over a month to say anything, I say EFF MELREESE! EFF it in the A, and I ain’t going back *.

* I probably will end up going back to MELREESE, and wearing my Team USA jersey, because my friends will go back.

# 3

The third incident happened last Friday. Sometimes on Fridays I go to the Gables to meet some friends after work, it’s for a thing called “Happy Hour” where the drinks are supposed to be cheaper, but they never are.

I always end up at Pasion del Cielo after work to write these things or do whatever work I need to be doing. Then, once someone tells me they are at THE BAR I walk over there and hang out for a bit. I usually don’t stay there for too long, because Friday nights at THE BAR = the worst people in Miami *.

* If you are reading this and you go to the bar every Friday, then you should know that you are a horrible person. But also, thank you for reading this and I love you.

This isn’t about the ‘horrible people at the bar’ though, it’s about the ‘horrible doorman at the bar.’ The horrible doorman who didn’t let me in because I had a coffee from PdelC. Last Friday was also ‘Giralda Under the Stars,’ where the street is closed down and filled with tables and bars. The man said I can’t bring ‘Outside Drinks’ inside THE BAR. It’s a Caramel Macchiato man! Not a glass of Ebola juice!

NO OUTSIDE DRINKS is a dumb rule. Especially that night because they had two outdoor bars that night. One in the middle of the street, and one in the back alley. So, everyone was bringing in ‘Outside Drinks.’

Now, thanks to this incident I don’t have to go to THE BAR on Fridays anymore*.

*But also this Friday I will be in Disney, so I may return to THE BAR next Friday, but I highly doubt that.


Those are the three instances I quickly thought of. While writing this I thought of another NO HATS one, but that place closed down, so I win! If anyone ever gives you some bullcrap rule just don’t listen to them or leave and never come back. This is a good way to live a happy life.
Maybe I just have a problem with Bouncers or Doormen?

If that’s the case I leave you with this…