Here lies bird

I went golfing with Nell Anne and Andrea Robison last night. Since we were a threesome, the starter (a.k.a grumpy golf cop) told us we would take this rather accomplished looking golfer guy, who was golfing alone, with us on the course. We did everything we could to verbally convince him he wouldn’t enjoy golfing with us, but it turned out our words weren’t necessary. He watched me whiff my first three attempts at a tee shot, and then Nell Anne perform similarly and decided he would find another group. We actually improved significantly – (like I made a decent effort at most of the rest of my tee shots after that) once that pressure and spectators were gone, but it was fairly horrifying to scare him away with our skills alone so quickly. Definite ego blow.
It was a beautiful evening, in the 80s, we had a few chilled beers in the back of the cart, and the girls were big fun to hang out with. The highlight had to be Nell Anne killing a bird on the 7th hole. She literally nailed him in his little feathered head with her Pinnacle Gold Lady (kudos to the girl for killing a bird with a golf ball that benefits breast cancer research) after which he fluttered and twitched for about three minutes and then died. Do you suppose I should tell her that's not what it means to "shoot a birdie"?
We decided to have dinner and drinks at the Stockpot to memorialize him. French Dip sandwiches in tribute to his ultimate sacrifice.
Back at the club house we made sure the golfer who couldn’t cope golfing with the ditzy chicks knew what he missed. After a few minutes chatting with us, he was asking when we’d be back.;-) Sorry dude. Missed your chance at girl night.