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Yesterday I was invited to play 18 holes of golf on a PGA course. Yes me, the person who's never had a golf lesson in my life, was in the territory of the greats.

Most of my experience playing golf is at an old par 3 course in my hometown. My friend Nic and I would often take his dad's clubs, along with a six pack of beer, and tear it up on the beat up grounds that was located in the middle of an industrial park. We never cared about the score, nor did anything really matter besides how much alcohol we consumed and how much fun we were having.

I met up with Kelly's brother, dad, and step-dad (yes they hang out frequently) at the Four Seasons resort ready to show off my ineptness at the Scottish game. Even though I usually play on par 3 courses I've played 18 holes before, even without a cart. I figured it would be a nice leisurely day, but I hadn't counted on one factor, the friggin heat.

The day before Kelly bought me a polo that breathes and some shoes that would accommodate hot weather, but it still wasn't enough. I felt like I was on fire. Sweat gushed out of every pore while I prayed to Mars that I wouldn't get swamp ass.

It didn't help my golf game any. Most of my drives, or lack thereof, were followed by screams of "worthless pig fucking communist" and "I used to fuck whores like you in high school." Payne Stewart I am not, but I made the most of it as everyone else showed me up. Kelly's brother noticed that I've never been taught how to swing correctly and gave me some pointers, but it didn't help matters much. I slowed everyone down and seemed to get under their skin. It was so bad I just gave up halfway through the last few holes so we could end at a reasonable time.

I was so dehydrated and sun burnt I rushed home in a daze. Kelly called me and asked if I was ok, but I guess I sounded like Henry Kissinger on quaaludes on the phone which made her quite nervous. She ordered me to drink as much water as I could handle.

The group made tentative plans to golf while we're all in the Bahamas for my wedding. I'd rather try masturbating with a belt sander.

"Although golf was originally restricted to wealthy, overweight Protestants, today it's open to anybody who owns hideous clothing." - Dave Barry