When it comes to sports, anything from basketball to badminton, I can be very competitive. I am in no way a sore loser, but I try to win every time. Example 1: When I was playing with some kids at the YMCA, showing them some basketball moves, I never took it easy on them. I didn't play them like they were grown men but I smacked their shot away, not to be a douche-bag but because I think you learn faster through adversity. Example 2: You always see romantic comedies where the man lets the woman win just to be gracious, or to get some ass later. That isn't how the HumanityCritic rolls baby! If I'm on a date, playing pool or even bowling, I try to win every time. Even though I desperately want that ass, lord knows I could use every piece of backside a brother can get, but you have to earn your wins when you are with me.(sorry, I'm just a Prick.) That being said, the following story is a true account of a day I had on the golf course, when I was asked to play with this guy who wants me to write something for his start up magazine.
I was awakened by the sound of my phone, nursing a serious hangover from Jack Daniels and rejection. I answer by saying, "Somebody better be dying or dead, who in the fuck is this??" The voice answers, "It's Chris, from the magazine, your future boss." I guess this is the part where he figured that I would totally change gears, but instead I said, "Oh, what in the fuck do you want?" He says, "Well, we had such a great time playing golf with you last time, my business partner and I were wondering if you would be up to playing again??" I paused, looked at the time and just thought to myself that the only time I am up this early on a Sunday is to try to score with women at Catholic Mass, or throwing up from the previous night of debauchery. Finally I said, "OK, I can play a few rounds today", and started to get ready. As I got ready I put on my normal golf attire, camouflage shorts, a Public Enemy T-shit, and some brand new golf shoes that I had just purchased. I was ready to play some golf, primarily because last time I played with these gentleman I looked like a novice, and I hate to lose something fierce. Now, through getting a golf coach, practicing at a driving range, and bullying children at my local Putt-Putt to get my game better, I have something for their ass this time.
I look out the window and see Chris pull up, so I got my stuff together to go play some golf. About a few moments later he decides to honk his horn, repeatedly, about 10 times. When I get to his car I say, "What the fuck are you doing??". He started laughing, not in a "you are a joke to me" way, but in a "you are a really funny guy" kind of way, which I found rather odd at the time. As we are traveling to the golf course I decide to behave myself, since the last time we played golf I cursed a few dudes out, even though they deserved it. We arrive at a golf course that I had never been to before, and I guess people there had never seen a black face before because I felt like Jennifer Lopez' ass the way so many grown men were staring at me. Usually I would have said, "What in the fuck are you looking at jackass!!", but I only stared back and kept my mouth shut. I wasn't trying to impress the assholes that I was with, just trying to be more civil that's all.
We reach the first hole and I am ready to kick some ass. Chris drives first with his ball ending up in the woods somewhere, he then let out a big "Fuuuuck!" His friend John drove second, with his ball landing in a sand pit. Chris said, "OK HumanityCritic, go ahead!", he whispers to John, "This should be good!" Since it was a Par 3 the main objective was to get the ball on the green which was about 170 yards, so I smashed the ball and it landed a few feet from the hole. Both of them just stood there with their mouths wide open, then I said "Let's play some golf Motherfuckers!!"
As I began to systematically beat them like they had owed me money, I began to see their attitude change towards me a bit. Before when we played, they laughed at all my jokes and thought I was the funniest guy in the world.(Which could have been legitimate or just a way to kiss my ass to write for their magazine) I guess I wasn't the life of the party now that I was embarrassing them in front of all their golfing pals. Something else happened while we were playing, they started talking shit. Not in a "Sportsman-like, get you out of your game" way but a "I want to get you mad by being an asshole" kind of way. First they started talking about Bush and what a great president he was amongst themselves, which I ignored because I was currently shooting for a Birdie at the time. Then they started talking about how "all Hip Hop is negative", a charge that I addressed with a simple "That's because you nothing about the culture, ignorance is bliss I guess." It started to get ugly.
Then, I guess because they read my blog, they started talking about Kobe Bryant.(Yes, I am his biggest apologist as many of you know) Chris said, "Fuck Kobe, I am a Shaq guy!" That's when I let out the following lengthy diatribe: "That's cool, even though Shaq is a 300 pound sanitary napkin who squats when he pisses, but that's just my opinion. Plus, the media has so much hatred for Kobe ingrained in their DNA that everything that Shaq says is raised to a Winston Churchill quotable. You hear announcers say, "Did you hear what Shaq said about Kobe?", in a excitable way, its pathetic. You know what I say, I heard what Shaq said and it's the same old mono-syllabic crap that he usually spews out, that Internet degree getting motherfucker!!" They both stood there, as I was currently 5 shots ahead of them, looking like they wanted to tear my head off.
As they are taking me home the car is very silent, no one said a word for the first few minutes. When they pulled in my neighborhood Chris said, "I thought when we asked you to play that you would make us laugh, you were funny last time, what happened? Your blog is funny but today you were a buzz kill man". As I got out of the car I said, "What am I here to entertain you? Want me to put on some black-face and do a two-step for you motherfuckers?? Fuck the both of you,(grabbing my gear) you non golfing motherfuckers!" As I walked to my house Chris says, "I guessed you went and fucked up that writing gig, stupid motherfucker!??" I slowly turned around, pulled my driver out of my bag, and approached Chris' Mercedes. I replied, "What did you say? Get your ass out of the car, now!" That's when Chris put the peddle to the metal, with my silly ass throwing my club with all my might at his car. As my neighbors looked on, shaking their heads at my most recent act of aggression, I gathered my clubs and walked in the house. As I sat down and looked at a autographed picture of Aurthur Ashe I realized that I will never compromise who I am for any writing job, any job period for the matter.(I didn't know if I was being truthful, or I was saying that because I had a few other gigs lined up)
Because I am sure Chris will read this, let me say this in the most delicate way possible: I am nobody's boy, you are lucky that I didn't beat your ass in front of my crib, and I'd wipe my ass with your flimsy rag before I would submit anything to it. Ahh, letting out your frustrations can be so therapeutic.