The Adventures of Abigail: Galf! Gelf! Gilf! Golf! Gulf! FORE!!!!!!!!!!!

The Adventures of Abigail: Galf! Gelf! Gilf! Golf! Gulf! FORE!!!!!!!!!!!: If you hang around the links long enough you'll hear every short vowel sound, due to different dialects, to say that one word...Golf. I LO...

Galf! Gelf! Gilf! Golf! Gulf! FORE!!!!!!!!!!!

If you hang around the links long enough you'll hear every short vowel sound, due to different dialects, to say that one word...Golf.

I LOVE golf.  I love golf so much that if I lived in my own house I would get cable to watch the Golf Channel.  I'm poor so I couch surf at other poor friend's parent's houses who have 60" High Def/ Flat Screen/ SeetheTitleistontheball television and cable, so that I can watch the golf channel when I'm not practicing/playing, working out or trying to find a job. 

I don't just follow golf and watch every show on the golf channel 3 times over during the course of the week because they show a lot of weekly re-runs, I play too.  And as of lately I play well.

I wasn't always a good golfer, but who is?  I took up the game at 19 and hacked it up on a college scholarship that afforded me the ability to go to a private college and get a good business education, which I put to work everyday by placing it in the top corner of my resume and sending it out to potential places of employment.

After college, despite bringing my handicap down to a 5 from a 25 when I started, I decided to put golf on hold and focus on a Naval Aviation career in the United States Marine Corps.  11 days from Officer Candidates School graduation I broke my back at the 6th and 7th vertebrae.  No worries though, I was lucky enough to recover fully and I took golf up again about a year after my injury while working as a Funeral Director in southern California.

It had been almost 18 months since I hit a golf ball after taking the game up again, but man did I love that feeling.  My first day out at a course, while warming up the driving-range, the Director of Golf spotted me hitting my driver and we started talking.  I told him my story about OCS and that I was wanting to get back into the game.  He asked me for what purpose?  I looked at him and before I could take the words back into my mouth, "I guess, I want to be a professional."

He showed his teeth a bit and said, "Well, you definitely know how to swing." I had an appointment for a lesson the next morning.

Until I left for Taiwan a year and a half later I was a daily fixture at the course.  On my days off, if I wasn't hiking the San Bernardino Mountains with my cousin David or other friends, I was on the course.  Working a lot to perfect my game and getting lots of free lessons and tips from the club pros who were impressed with my driver distance and ability to swing.  By the time I left for Taiwan my scores were consistently in the mid-70's.

So I went to Taiwan played a lot there and had a pro that worked with me every time he saw me.  By the time I left Taiwan my handicap was a 2.  Now, 7 months later it's a 1.2...so I'm widdling down my score and now it's really a matter of consistency.  My swing got off plane, but I have been working it back thanks to working with a pro in northern Kentucky almost the entire month of October when I found out I would be auditioning for Big Break on the Golf Channel.  My swing change scores initially were horrendous, but now that I'm used to swinging on plane again my scores are back into the low and mid 70's.

Now that you've heard my life story of golf, you get my current dilemma, and the reason I will find it hard to sleep tonight even with all the booze I've drank to try and chill out.  I received and e-mail today from a hiring manager today in New York City for a job I applied for back in early September, that I really want.  I had given up on the job since I followed up and never heard anything back.  I also had kind of given up on golf as a career because I can't afford to play and I assumed eventually I would find a job.  Well, I didn't find a job so I kept practicing golf and made it down to the semi-finalist auditions for the Big Break at the end of October.  I just put my fundraising packages together so I could try this game full time and possibly go to Q-school in January in Europe to play on the European Tour.  I also did surprising well at the audition, I won't hear about being on the show until December.

I am going to pick up everything and go to this interview next week in New York.  Another long drive in my car in search of a career.  If I get this job do I stay in New York and try to play through the winter at heated driving ranges off the mats or do I pursue golf now, with no money whatsoever other then what I'll get from some backers back home who are impressed with my game?

I know I can do this (golf) and I don't think I'm ready to just give up on my dream.  I am however, sick of being poor, sick of living out of my car, sick of couch surfing, sick of borrowing money from my dad for basic stuff like gas and phone minutes, but that's all about to pay off in golf.  I planned on turning pro in January.  Now I'm trying to weigh all the options and I know some optimistic people will say, "things have a way of working themselves out."  But, that's not my experience not my life.  Things do not just work themselves out.  I'm laid back so I let problems roll over my shoulders and live my life with reckless abandon, but things have not worked themselves out for me ever, except for the case that I'm not a quadriplegic.  As far as money or job things go though...things never, and I mean NEVER work themselves out.  Especially not as of late.  SO I'm freaking out a lot, and I'm going to have to drink myself to sleep tonight or there will be no sleep.  If you have any input don't be shy, I know most of you are opinionated and have some good life experience, so go ahead and say what you need to say........In private don't repost in the comments sections, you guys all know my contact info.  What the hell is going on? What am I supposed to do?  I don't want to screw any of this up right now, not the job, nor do I want to give up golf.  I know I have a decision to make, but some input would be much appreciated.

Kids say the funniest stuff on Earth

McDonalds on the beach in St. Augustine.  I am baby-sitting a couple of friend's daughters age 5 and 8.  The 5-year-old has absolutely no filter whatsoever, which can be good and bad, but this time it was AWESOME!

A group of multi-cultural college aged kids came in with their pants on the ground.  I could tell by the look on Lily's face, the five-year-old, that she was a little turned-off and something was about to come out of her mouth.

Lily asked me, "How come I can see their underwear!"  She was loud enough that not only did these boys hear her but so did the entire restaurant.

I responded laughing and almost as loud as her, "I don't know, why don't you ask them?"
I couldn't take back the words fast enough before realizing what and whom I just encouraged.

One of the guys, blushing at this point, was facing Lily as they sat relatively close to us.  Shawna, the 8-year-old, is hiding in embarrassment in the corner of our booth.  Lily proceeded to talk to the guy sitting across the aisle from her, "Why can I see your underwear, that's gross!" 

He was a little flustered, Lily being 5 is the boss and can be intimidating, "cause everyone does," he responded.

"You look stupid, pull up your pants!" She demanded.

They were all in shock, cause what are you going to do to a bossy 5 year old girl.

I don't think I've ever laughed so hard.

Lily 1, Pants on the Ground Guys 0

Culture Shocked!

So, I'm pretty open-minded to anything and anyone except for religious groups that actively recruit people via bicycles and in-home brain washing.  There are not that many things that really shock me.  I'm not a racist or at least I didn't think I was, but then I saw them: rednecks, hillbillies, honkies, hicks and crackers. 

I have spent the last 3 years of my life living in southern California, Taiwan and Long Island, New York. Yes, each place has its fair share of weird white people, even in Taiwan they have Mormons, but now I find myself living in Kentucky, which has more of a "Merica" feel than an "America" feel.

The most annoying thing about living in Taiwan is pictured above.

Within an hour of landing in Northern Kentucky I found myself at a grille and bar type restaurant that is very popular with the local yocals.  The first family I saw on the patio waiting to be seated looked a lot like this: Father, was a lean guy from legs down and chest up but had a beer belly that made him look 9 months pregnant with triplets.  He wore a black wife-beater with cargo khakis and work boots.  He was probably around 50 years old and was 6 feet tall with unkempt facial hair, not a five o'clock shadow, but as if a badger attached itself to his face.  My guess is that the gaps where he was missing all his teeth was from the constant tobacco chewing he refuses to give up.

Then we have Wifey.  She was 300 lbs of 5 foot nothing with a blue dress on that made me think of all the "yo mama" jokes I could think of.  She was also around 50 with long brown hair and she waddled in such a way that I could see why father found her so irresistible. 

Their son was a good looking young man around my age that if it weren't for the trash stash and matching father-son wife-beater he could possibly be attractive.  I would attribute his manorexia to the copious amounts of meth he does every few days, but hey, life ain't easy.  If it sounds like I'm judging these people, I am.  This was only one family, there were so many others that fit this profile it scared me.

I had forgotten about overalls completely.

Working at the golf course I heard a phrase that I hadn't heard in years, but I added to my vocabulary immediately, "Whiskey Tango."  I think that may be my favorite way to describe the local population.

I am still utterly shocked at how overweight just about everyone here is.  

My little brother and I went to breakfast at a Cracker Barrel, which is like the Wal-Mart of southern cookin' restaurants.  Not only were we the two skinniest people in the restaurant but it would have taken the two of us and then some to equal the girth of a lot of the people sitting around eating biscuits and gravy and deep fried bacon.  

Memorial Day weekend bought with it the taste of Cincinnati.  I feel like the Queen City should probably have a few more recreational and fitness education days, and a little less everyone come down and over-eat on the river weekends.  Maybe the solution would be creating some more space between booths so people have to walk a little further for their brats, goetta, chili and funnel cakes.  I love festivals and eating, but I work out too so I'm not a statistic for fat America.

Overall Cincinnati is a beautiful area but the people here are too church cliquey, vanilla and under-cultured for what I value.

Cheesy Workout Playlist

Occasionally I need a break from my normal straight-out-of-hell and rap music during my workouts.  When I really start to push myself to misery I need a little humor to keep me motivated and forgetful of the pain I'm pushing through.  It helps to remember bad dancing done at family and friends weddings and dancing in friends basements as a little kid to keep me going.

So trade in the Disturbed, Godsmack, Slipknot, Eminem, Prodigy, Linkin Park etc. for these 10 cheesetastic workout songs that will make you laugh and keep you groovin' in your workout:

1. "Push It"  Salt-N-Pepa
2. "I'm Too Sexy"  Right Said Fred
3. "Oh Yeah!"  Yello
4. "Macho Man"  The Village People
5. "Shout"  Isley Brothers
6. "I'm Walking on Sunshine"  Katrina and the Waves
7. "I"m so Excited"  The Pointer Sisters
8. "Ice Ice Baby"  Vanilla Ice
9. "Good Vibrations"  Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch
10. "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go"  Wham!

Shopping!!!!!!

I'm more in tune with my womanly nature than many of you that know me would think.  I become giddy and excited when the prospect of going shopping, especially at one of the largest malls in Asia, is a possibility.  Dream Mall, in Kaohsiung, with 2300 stores and 11 floors make my mouth water at the opportunity of buying anything I've ever wanted.

Dream Mall.  The pic doesn't do it justice.

The excitement always turns into depression for me whenever I step foot in a mall.  I like the idea of shopping more than I like shopping in itself.  I have this awful indecisiveness about my personality.  I'm the last person you want to ask, "What do you want for lunch?"  I hate being asked because I would like a little of everything and I can't decide what I actually want. So all of a sudden, a simple question turns into a high pressure situation in which a decision must be made.  So when I see some sweaters, blouses, skirts, pants, jeans, shoes that I like...I have lots of problems making decisions...I don't have the energy to deal with that kind of pressure through a 2 story standard mid-western American shopping mall, let alone an 11 story Asian one.



I would enjoy shopping much more if I were a billionaire.  My problem is, is that I hate actual work.  There is only one solution to my problem, a rich husband.  So if you're out there, lets get this show on the road, Here are my requirements:
1.  9 figure net-worth, with a steady rate of income.
2.  If younger than 80, respectable amount of living space so I can have my freedom to do my own thing. 
3.  If older than 80, must be on death bed, and must be a hilariously-funny dirty old man. (I determine humor)
4.  Must pay for my gym membership and hot personal trainer...If I'm gonna be a trophy-wife, I must look the part.
5.  Must have houses in New York, Miami, Paris, Bali, Tuscany, Rio, and the Virgin Islands.
6.  Children, I like kids but not when they are my age.  Don't be jealous when I take Daddy's money, it's not like you work either.
7.  We have country-club memberships on all six livable continents.
8.  When I say, I want to go to Paris, it means that I want to go to Paris...there was no We in there...We should go to Paris, means you are invited to come along.
9.  I get my own Yacht.  Home port will be Miami.
10.  Princess is a nickname for your daughter.  We can come up with something better.


 

I'm SO Cold

As part of my daily doabsolutelynothing at work routine, I get to see all the winter stuff that's happening back in the ol' U.S. of A. and I have one thing to say......HA HA suckers!  Okay, I like the white stuff in moderation,  but in my mind cold weather is good for only one thing, sports.  Snowboarding, Hockey, Skiing, what am I missing? No, curling is NOT a sport...it's a chore.

I hate snow because back when I was in high school we lived in a house with a long downhill driveway...from the house to the street it was uphill.  My brothers and I were taught life lessons growing up like, why would you do fun things on the weekend when you can spend it cleaning and doing mindless chores?  My mom insisted we clear off the driveway because she worked and put food on the table or something like that.

*My favorite break from weekend cleaning was on Sunday mornings my mom would drag us out of bed to go to the most boring place on earth, Catholic Mass.  It was a chance to sleep with the occasional slap of the head demanding that I pay attention.  I learned at about the age of six that the best place to sit during mass was on the far end from my mother allowing my three little brothers to be between me and her backhand.  She should have been a tennis player, she has great reach and accuracy.

Okay, back on track.  My mom would have my brothers and I shovel the snow from what seemed like our million-mile long driveway.  We would never do it when we should have, so the snow would eventually become compacted and basically turn into an 8-inch thick, million-mile long slab of ice.  Therefore, we would have to go outside with real spade shovels, hammers and sledgehammers to clear off the driveway in the middle of January when was 0 degrees Fahrenheit.

My brothers and I couldn't do anything together for more then 15 minutes without a fist fight breaking out.  So as soon as our mom would hear us yelling and screaming she would come outside and say something along the lines of "I told you guys, you would be sorry if I had to come out here."  Boy, were we ever.  (I'm pretty sure my mom is secretly a marine corps drill instructor.) She would stand there and yell over us for however long it took us to accomplish this task in true drill instructor form.  This always seemed to ruin my day, somehow, and that of my brothers.  I'm sure maybe hers too, but she enjoyed yelling a bit too much I think.  If there is anything I have ever learned from crappy weather it's to cooperate with my siblings as to not have mom come out and yell at us.

For those of you wondering how snow would become so compacted on our driveway:
My mom would call us from work and tell us to have it shoveled by the time she got home...Duh, Mom, we are off of school, therefore, we shall play video games, go sledding and drink hot chocolate.  No where in that code of kidom does it say, "I will shovel the driveway, on snowdays, no matter how many times you call us and ask us to do it." We like having you come home and scream at us like a lunatic because you "fish-tailed all the way down the driveway."  We don't want to hear any whining about fish-tailing from someone who walked barefoot, 2 miles up hill in the snow to school everyday, anyway.

Happy shoveling to you in the States, and if you have kids, pay them to shovel your driveway. They don't drive so why should it be their responsibility to shovel snow.  I'll be thinking of you on days like this when it is 20 degrees Celsius and I'm freezing.  I'll be thinking in my 3 layers of clothes, how the hell can those people live where it's hovering between 0-15 Fahrenheit for almost a month straight?

I think that I will go to the beach when I get out of work today.