I've been playing golf for 32 years and I've yet to have a Hole-in-One.

 

 

Me too but it is 47 years.

I played Little League baseball with Phil Simms. I was both on his team and played against him. While on his team, I played shortstop and he was a pitcher we were involved in a triple play.

 

Against him I was the last out of a no-hitter he pitched twice

When I was 11 years old, one week into my sixth grade, I got hit by a car and broke my left leg and several ribs. Ran my knee through the radiator and had 57 stitches in my thigh. My leg was bent so Bad that my heel was touching my rear. At the Emergency room, local doctor grabbed my ankle and pulled my leg back in place before being transferred to Good Sam in Lexington. UK football Doctor operated on me and and Laid in traction for eight weeks. I could hear the UK football games on Saturdays. After my leg popped in place, I was sent have in a body cast for another two months. Had to learn to walk again and missed the rest of the school year. Had trouble with my left knee my entire life and am having it replaced in May.

I hate pickles. I hate the way they smell. I hate the way they taste. I hate everything about them.

 

So once, I ordered a calzone from a local pizza place. I picked it up and got out to my car. I was driving to my house, when I smelled that smell that only a pickle could emit. I reached down in the bag, and there was a nasty, awful, disgusting pickle. (Pickles and calzones may be a common thing, but I didn't understand then and I don't understand now.)

 

Not being able to stand the smell any longer, I rolled my window down and threw the pickle out. But I learned a valuable lesson that day, as the wind picked up the pickle, blew it back in, and smacked me in the face.

 

Pickle litter is litter, folks. If you think otherwise, the world will smack you down.

There is a movie in the American Pie series called Band Camp. There are 2 characters named after my best friend and me. The writer was a freshman when we were seniors at Lloyd. I’m told their rival band is Beechwood. My family has watched it, I have never seen the movie.

I ran from my house to the Golden Corral in London(about 15 miles), ate dinner, then jogged back home. Don't know which made me feel more sick at my stomach - the running or the food @ GC.

Made eight hole-in- ones and won a free round after making an "Ace" on the 18th on this golf course in Pigeon Forge:

 

Back in high school I worked out with WWE stars Edge and Christian at the old Moores fitness in florence when they were in town for a show at the Cincy Gardens.

 

Teammate and I were there and they walked in, started chatting and worked out together.

 

Wrestlers used to go to Worlds Gym in Florence back in the day. I seen the Warlord, Mr. Fuji, some russian guy and my step dad seen the Ultimate Warrior and Road Warriors.

I ran from my house to the Golden Corral in London(about 15 miles), ate dinner, then jogged back home. Don't know which made me feel more sick at my stomach - the running or the food @ GC.

 

You couldn't pay to eat at Golden Corral.

You couldn't pay to eat at Golden Corral.

 

Only as a desperate, last resort.

Only as a desperate, last resort.

 

 

Hey now, the homestyle smashed potatoes and awesome pot roast is a pretty satisfying meal(especially after you've run for 15 miles ).

I had a friend who was killed by serial killer Donald Harvey. I have another friend who was nearly killed by John Wayne Gacy.

 

I've received letters in the mail from a woman sitting on death row convicted of a double murder.

 

Sometimes I think maybe the writing is on the wall...

^ My son and daughter-in-law took in DIL's younger sister for a year when they lived in Boston. She was in school with the younger Boston Marathon bomber.

I hate pickles. I hate the way they smell. I hate the way they taste. I hate everything about them.

 

So once, I ordered a calzone from a local pizza place. I picked it up and got out to my car. I was driving to my house, when I smelled that smell that only a pickle could emit. I reached down in the bag, and there was a nasty, awful, disgusting pickle. (Pickles and calzones may be a common thing, but I didn't understand then and I don't understand now.)

 

Not being able to stand the smell any longer, I rolled my window down and threw the pickle out. But I learned a valuable lesson that day, as the wind picked up the pickle, blew it back in, and smacked me in the face.

 

Pickle litter is litter, folks. If you think otherwise, the world will smack you down.

 

This is my favorite one so far! :laugh:

^ My son and daughter-in-law took in DIL's younger sister for a year when they lived in Boston. She was in school with the younger Boston Marathon bomber.

 

I feel like I'm just another degree or two of separation away from some real problems...