Golf!

Say 'Golf' and what do I think? *yawn*. Boring. It's for old people. I'll never play golf.

And what did I just do? Yea, you guessed right.

I. Played. Golf.

Well, I am turning old, after all. And staring at the walls wasn't much fun. So when my parents bugged me to 'get my lazy butt up and go exercise', I went with them. (Don't laugh. "Exercise" for a pig like me means walking. I can't run, I have no stamina whatsoever. Yes, Trish, that's why I won't go to your beloved CF! Now the secret's out, huh?)

The first day, I only succeeded whacking the air (and making my parents snigger behind my back, no doubt!). Thank God for the lack of golfers that day! Apparently, there was a technique to golfing, with which I am as familiar as with the etiquette of a Martian speckled-squoogle. What's a Martian speckled-squoogle? I don't know, either.

The next time I went, I managed to hit some golf balls.......straight into the streams and ponds, so innocent looking and so strategically located as to lull beginners like me into a false sense of confidence. Yea, right. But I went home triumphant - I got some of the 'lil white suckers up in the air! Though, admittedly, not far.

Yesterday was a red-letter day. I finally got acquainted with the Martian speckled-squoogle! =) It was immensely satisfying to see those 'lil white golf balls whizzing through the air, that much I can say.