#bar golf

For those of you that don't know what bar golf is, it basically involves going to lots of different bars and drinking lots of alcohol.

So, I could rephrase this as "A man walks into lots of bars. That must've hurt!"

Friday night I lost my phone. Well, I maintain that someone stole it and then realized I left and freaked out and put it back down on the table that I was sitting at so that they didn’t feel bad about stealing a drunk girl’s phone. Words of advice: don’t EVER steal a drunk girl’s phone. Crying ensues.

Anyway, my friend finds it after I hop in a cab and leave the bar, so I had to retrieve it from her Saturday morning. Of course, she was having brunch and bloodies at the same bar we were at the night before.  I have a bloody mary and get invited to bar golf in 3 hours. It involves copious drinking dressed like idiotic golfers. Well, I tried to dress like a golfer by wearing a plaid skirt and knee highs, but it ended up being more school girl. Whatevs.  My friend and I agree to participate in bar golf but we had dinner plans at 9:00 so “we weren’t going to get too crazy”. Ha.

First Hole: I have a margarita, which is par on the scoresheet. This is the last time I will shoot par, as I pretty much decided right then and there that if I was going to play this ridiculous game, I was going to play to win.

Second Hole: Jager Bomb is birdie. Eagle is 3 wiseman + Zoolander walk off. I’m pretty hard core but even I cannot handle a 3 wise man shot that early in my daydrinking. I would vom, and that is a 2 stroke penalty, so I play it safe with the Jager Bomb

Third Hole: This is pretty much when I decide I’m not messing around anymore. Eagles all the way. At this particular bar, I have to do a Prairie Fire, which is apparently tequila and tabasco sauce. I actually like tobasco sauce a lot, so it isn’t too bad. This is also when my friend and I started giving each other looks that this 9:00 dinner MAY be the drunkest dinner we’ve ever attended. But we’re still set on going. Because we make good decisions.

Fourth Hole:Cement mixer. So gross.

Fifth Hole: This hole is awesome. Eagle is Rocky Point Bomber (Tequila dropped in Milk) and shoot a bulls eye within 3 darts.  Birdie is ice yourself. I start off icing myself but then decide I was feeling lucky and give the dart board a try. Bulls eye on my second dart. Probably the proudest moment of my life. This, of course, means I then have to take a tequila shot dropped in milk. It actually isn’t that bad.

Sixth Hole: Another prairie fire. At this point, we have a party bus. The driver promptly quits and gives us our money back after dropping us off at our very first destination, so we have to take cabs back. This is also the bar where my friend and I text the people we have dinner plans with that we can’t make it because we’re both sick. We’re awesome liars.

Ninth Hole: I know, I skipped hole seven and eight. Really, at this point I’m about 11 drinks deep on an empty stomach and the ninth hole bar was a shitty dive bar that I knew my drunk ass could get in to and not be the drunkest person in the room. Eagle for this hole was rocky point bomber and make out with a stranger. I kiss a stranger, only to find out that they didn’t have milk for the bomber. I curse myself for not verifying that before completing the stranger bit, but I mark it off as an eagle anyway, because at this point, drinking isn’t even the hard part. It’s standing.

All in all, bar golf was a win