JC and I go golfing at Shetfield, which turns out to be a mistake. Don’t get me wrong, I play well – 2 under par – but my shoulder, dear God my shoulder. It feels like Goldfinger’s laser is boring into my flesh. Or something. I'm in too much pain to come up with a proper metaphor.
It’s been unseasonably warm and dry here in the Great Northwest; today it feels like spring. It’s great to be able to golf in February and all, but I kind of want a proper winter. The snow pack in the Olympics and Cascades is way low this year, which means no skiing and a big drought this summer, which sucks. It may seem ungrateful to complain about mild weather, but complain I shall.
It’s all because of global warming and El Nino and shit like that. My theory: it’s not just because of greenhouse gases and industrial pollution, global warming is also a direct result of supervillain activity. Hear me out. I’m not talking about low-rent guys like Exploder or Bushbaby, I’m talking about the would-be world conqueror types like The Architect or Sun-Ra. I mean, The Architect almost flipped the planet’s magnetic poles, for Chrissakes. What about Mucha Muerte’s giant Volcano Monster? Or H.A.R.M.’s solar death ray satellite, the one they fired at Antarctica? All this shit impacts the environment, it has to. So really, getting rid of supervillains is the environmentally sound thing to do. I’d like to see the hippies get behind that for once.
Anyway, JC is back from his honeymoon in Maui, which he enjoyed. He’s all tan and relaxed and happy.
“So I’m pissed that I missed that blimp thing, that sounds insane,” JC says while putting on the eight hole. “I’d be on my roof with a video camera for that shit. You all right, Connor?”
I guess I’m wincing and clutching my shoulder, which is burning. “Yeah,” I gasp. “Peachy. Just… strained my shoulder… the other day. Pulled something.”
I finish out our game like a fool because what’s more important? Beating JC at golf or not aggravating an injury?
I’m supposed to go back up to Vancouver and see Dr. Naghib. I was going to blow him off, but now I’m thinking I should go up there. I might need to see him again in the future for something and it probably wouldn’t be smart pissing him off. (see post Dr. Naghib, 1/28/05)
Man, I know I sound like a little girl, but this really hurts.
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Build a lush golf course in the middle of a desert and wonder where the available water went. Everyone will die of thirst. That's how the world will end. Dying of thirst while drinking Budweiser made from something other than water......but I already believe they make Budweiser out of something other than water anyway......marcythewhore
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