Dave: Oh, I don't know why you tried to do that. We went to the batting cages and it was mobbed.
Me: I know. But we decided to play putt-putt and we had traveled all the way there.
Dave: That sucks. I don't know if I could have done that for something as boring as putt-putt.
Me: So the group behind us was annoying by hole 2. There was a woman with two males playing in the group behind us. The youngest male who was probably in his teens, but possibly early twenties had no sense of personal space and constantly chased our putts and got really close to us. He was constantly getting so fucking close to us. The other male remained about 2 inches away from us at all times, even while we were putting. We kept moving away from him a few inches at a time and he kept moving closer. I had just assumed that he was also mentally challenged but my wife had overheard them talking and close-guy was the husband and father. He wasn't challenged but he was an economist according to said overheard conversation.
Dave: Economist? That's his problem right there. What the fuck is an economist?
Me: Ha! So we were having a great, long, long, long time through 8 holes when we reached a 6 group backup on hole 9. The people still flailing away on the green were the same group fucking up while we were finishing up hole 6. They refused to give up. Fuck it, you had to wait 10-15 minutes for every hole so why not finish each one.
Dave: I couldn't do that.
Me: I normally can't either. So we were having a great, long, long, long time through 8 holes when we reached a 6 group backup on hole 9. The people still flailing away on the green were the same group fucking up while we were finishing up hole 6. They refused to give up.
Dave: What fucking assholes.
Me: Fuck it, you had to wait 10-15 minutes for every hole so why not finish each one. So on hole 9 we wait about 20-30 minutes for this fuck up group to finish. It was a really hard hole and the following groups took a long time to finish but nowhere near as long.
Dave: Okay.
Me: So it's finally our turn and I luckily hit a miracle shot on stroke three and my wife is failing to get it in the hole. She's on about shot 7 or so (the hole was a side hill so when you miss you miss badly) and the mom starts yelling out to us, "The maximum is 6 shots!!" My wife acknowledges her but then goes back to putting. As she's hitting her next putt the woman starts walks out onto our green yelling again more obnoxiously that the rules state that you only get 6 shots. "You only get six shots!!! Helooooo!!! Six!!! Pick it up!! Pick up!! Helloooo!! Pick up!!"
Dave: What the fuck?
Me: So my wife shoots her a look and picks up her ball. It totally ruined the day. I couldn't even keep score anymore because I was so angry and wanting to stay as far away from the socially awkward family. Actually, I wanted to make a huge fucking scene but my wife wouldn't let me.
Me: So my wife shoots her a look and picks up her ball. It totally ruined the day. I couldn't even keep score anymore because I was so angry and wanting to stay as far away from the socially awkward family. Actually, I wanted to make a huge fucking scene but my wife wouldn't let me.
Dave: I would have told the bitch to sit down!
Me: I wanted to hang around so I could punch the father in the face.
Dave: Ha ha ha, real nice you are. Real nice.
Me: Heh, yeah but I just wanted to finish the round and get as far away from them as possible. It was so stressful as each hole I worried about going over six shots.
Dave: Oh that sucks but I know what you mean.
Me: We checked the rules and there was no 6 shot limit. It was just their "house rules" they were trying to impose on us. And the weird thing was is that we were openly mocking them, and scorning them. I made sure to keep my back to them the rest of the round... And the fucker was still resting his fucking chin on my shoulder and blowing in my ear.
Dave: I would have have elbowed him or turned and coughed in his face. That's what I did to this guy who was too close to me in Dunkin's. I turned and hocked a loogey right in his face.
Me: Heh, maybe I'll try that next time.
Dave: Do it. Especially now with the swine flu panic.
Me: Right? I just can't believe how socially awkward they were. It's one thing for the son to act like that, but the father? The economist?
Dave: Fucking weird.
Me: Fucking geek. He was wearing a hat awkwardly, short shorts and black socks with sandals.
Dave: Hey, I do that!
Me: Ha ha ha, really?
Dave: Yeah.
Me: Ha ha! But the guy was so fucking odd. And what the fuck, they didn't even attempt to control their son but after the way the parents acted I shouldn't have expected them to know anything about personal space.
Dave: I'm scared of retards.
Me: Why's that?
Dave: I don't know. I'm just terrified of retards. If I see a retard coming at me I cross the street.
Me: He might steal your purse.
Dave: No, that's not it. I don't know why I'm just scared. I think I caught it from this guy I used to work with. He hated them.
Me: No shit. The Stop & Shop I go to hires a bunch of mentally challenged people - mainly for bagging and tracking down carts.
Dave: They're okay at that.
Me: There's this one guy who's a bagger who talks to everyone. He just shoots the shit and talks nonstop even if the person doesn't acknowledge him. I try to avoid his line but one time I ended up in it and the guy in front of me ignored his chatter. Well he flipped out about it and started smashing my groceries and then my bags of groceries. It's a good thing I didn't buy eggs.
Dave: That ain't right.
Me: Yeah and I try to avoid him more now. They have this other young guy who has Downs and he has such a chip on his shoulder. He's one of the cart guys and tracks down those carts for fat people.
Dave: Oh right I know those.
Me: Yeah, well the guy tries to run people down. He gets in and drives and doesn't slow down or steer - you get the fuck out of the way or get hit. I like him.
Dave: Ha ha ha. The gym I work out at used to hire them to clean and shit. Well one of them went into the bathroom and wiped shit all over the walls. He actually put feces in his hands and wiped it on the walls.
Me: Eww.
Dave: Yeah I went to the desk and told them about it and they didn't believe me. So I'm there trying to tell them and some guy comes out of the bathroom puking.
Me: No shit.
Dave: Yeah, so they don't hire the mentally challenged anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment