"Obviously you're not a golfer..."

Played golf today. Not sure why. Though I am a terrible and often frustrated golfer, I did find some satisfaction today in the form of a 52 on the front nine. And that was with two eight's on my scorecard. With darkness approaching, my friend (whom I will not name to protect the fact that he is twice as bad at golf as I am) made the turn to bludgeon our self-esteem for a few more holes before wising up and calling it quits...

First hole, par four: Six.

Second hole, par three: Six (I think).

Third hole, par four: Five.

Fourth hole, par four: One!

Yep, one -- on a par four! That's because I hit the tee shot about like you would expect Miguel Tejada to hit an outside fastball at Minute Maid Park (does Tejada hit left-handed? If not, then that analogy won't exactly make sense, but we'll roll with it anyway). My only goal was to crush it, and I did ... way left. Over the trees, with enough hang time for the following dialogue to take place:

Brandon: "Dude, that is all over a house."

The protected: "Is it?"

Brandon: "Listen..."

[Pause]

Golf ball [upon contact with roof]: "BAM!"

Brandon: "OK man, we're outta here."

The protected: "Come on, I'm sure their house gets hit all the time."

Brandon: "Not like that. And even if it does, that doesn't mean they like it."

The protected: "It's summer and they live at a country club. Relax, they're probably on vacation."

Brandon: "Very valid point. But we're leaving."

[End dialogue]

And that was that.