I've got two words for ya.

Let's think about golf for a second. You hit a very small white ball with an akward shaped club on a specified area of grass, usually as long as several football fields. It's insane. Physics should not allow for it. Golf had to be invented by the same people that invented other ridiculously difficult contests like marathon and competitive eating. Am I alone in thinking the ability to golf is a divine skill, with professional golfers being its foremost disciples?

My uncle and cousin are currently down at the 86th PGA Championship at Whistling Straits near Kohler, WI. To quote Viper in "Top Gun", these guys "are the elite. (dramatic pause) The best of the best." When he was buying tickets, I even considered cowboying up and buying a $70 ticket for today or tomorrow on eBay. Then I thought about the last time I golfed with Kurt and Grant and spent the moments immediately after every shot saying "Kurt! Did you see where that one went? I lost it. Crap! Over where? Up by that tree? I shanked it that bad?" No matter how good the PGA pros are, they can't do anything about my eyesight. I think I can find another way to spend $70, as a matter of fact, I'm sure I can. But my uncle got to go to every single day, starting Tuesday and it's definately a cool thing to say you've been to.

I might, however be going to a Packer game next weekend when they face Duece McAllister and the New Orleans Saints. Actually because it's preseason, it'd be more like Aaron Stecker and the New Orleans Saints as teams in the league finally realize, "Hey, maybe we shouldn't risk our big name guys at all because these games don't mean JACK SQUAT." But, yeah I might get to go to the stadium and 1265 Lombardi Ave, so that should be fun. My goal this season is to make at least one regular season game, hopefully the Jaguars to see my boy, Byron Leftwich. By the way, I am preparing a rant of Denis Leary-esque proportions about the Packers and their fans. (Jaime, I will call you as soon as I am finished, as I'm sure you are gonna love it.)

Speaking of preseason football, I watched a little of the Falcons/Ravens game on Thursday. Mike Vick played in a total of 3 plays, which I thought may have been a little over-cautious. Then I saw their backup, Matt Schaub play. Not having Vick make the plane trip wouldn't have been too over-cautious. This Shaub kid was just brutal. What I don't understand is this: You've got Mike Vick, probably the most gifted athlete on the planet, who also happens to be able to throw the ball 60 yards with pinpoint accuracy on top of being one of the fastest guys in the league. And you back him up with SLOW WHITE GUYS! Schaub, David Rivers and Ty Freakin Detmer (yes, that Ty Detmer) would probably only be slight favorites in a footrace at the Paralympics. However, if you are looking for "Backup QB's who look most like they belong on "Kids in the Hall", accept no substitutes.



One last thing, on my list of "10 Things I Hate" (or as I like to call it "My Big Embarrassing Failure to Meet Ashly's Expectations") I had included Wisconsin Liquor Laws. Take that one off the list.
Reason 1: I was let in on a little secret by a female companion I was with last night: If you drive three miles out to Bellvue, there's a gas station that sells until midnight! Hallelujah! It's right by where I live!

Reason 2: Unlike Michigan, bars in Wisconsin can give you all you can drink beer. You heard me correctly. Mojo, of Puckhead fame, took me out Thursday for my 24th and suggested "We should go to 'The Bar.' You get all you can drink beer for free on your birthday." After I got through the light-headedness from hearing "all you can drink" and "free" in the same sentence, I peeled off a draft beer drinking exhibition of Quarter Night proportions (despite the fact we had the worst bartender in history.) We finished the night with a tray of oysters (fed to me by a Hooters girl) and I was still able to get up at 6:15am for work. Twenty-four and still able to party like a rock star. Nate, you truly are living (dramatic pause) the High Life.

Oh, and by the way: I'm Baaaaccckkk!

I'm finished,
Nate