Yesterday I'm playing golf with some buddies and on the 17th hole, I let out a glorious blast from the fart tank. It was impressive. It was the kind that, given some time, could be easily used as inspiration for Beethoven-type symphonies. I digress...
So, I get to the 18th tee and feel another crowd-pleaser on deck and give it a solid push. And that's when glory turned immediately into shame. I completely shit myself. Not horrifically like it was running down my legs or anything, but enough to make me do an R2D2 kind of walk over to the bushes and check out the damage.
Fuck! It's bad enough that the underwear is the first casualty. I wear little foot socks so that option is out. All I have is the towel hanging off my bag. So I do a Frankenstein over to the bag, grab the towel, and Frankenstein back o the bushes...
This is the towel that I use to clean mud and shit off my clubs. It hasn't been washed in months. So, it's covered with...you guessed it...hardened mud. So, I get to clean my most delicate area with a crusty, scratchy fucking towel. I swear it felt like the one I got stuck with at the Motel 6 I was forced to stay at last year. I wonder if those are old golf towels?
Anyway, I cleaned up, bogeyed the hole, (I shot an 83 just in case you needed to know) had a couple of beers with the guys, then went straight to the grocery store and bought a travel bag of fucking baby wipes because I know this wasn't an isolated incident...
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