My wife and I are going through a messy divorce and I need your help. For legal purposes, and to be somewhat professional, I’ll refer to her as PLANTIFF, which is a lot better than what I actually want to call her. Apparently, Mrs. PLANTIFF’s lawyers say that my $3000 in golf clubs and accessories is regarded as community property and that I owe her half. I feel that is a load of crap! She’s never touched them, and in fact, all she ever did was complain that I spent more time with my clubs than her. What should I do? … Signed Mr. PLANTIFF.
Dear Mr. P,
Sounds like Mrs. PLANTIFF has decided to make this divorce personal. Here’s my advice: My guess is that your little woman amassed a collection of her own while you were miserably married. You’ll probably have to search it out, but it’s there somewhere. It could be some little collectable crystal elephant figurines, or silver collector spoons, or some overpriced crap she bought on the Home Shopping Network, or maybe even shot glasses (which is probably how you met her.) Go after those keepsakes like Lindsay Lohan goes after accessory items in a jewelry store. After all, according to her legal precedent, they are community property. She’ll hate you for it, but at this point, my guess is you would rather sleep with your TaylorMade driver than the wench better known as PLANTIFF. … MM …
My normal playing partners are killing me with their practical jokes on the golf course. Last Saturday, they changed out my spray-on sunscreen with spray cheese. A couple of weeks ago, I asked for some aspirin and ended up taking the date rape drug. (All I remember is waking up face down in a bunker?) Or the time, I received a call from an upset homeowner who said I owed him $1200 for a window broken by my golf ball. Apparently one of my boys did the damage, but handed them one of my business cards. Another thing I noticed was how lucky they always seemed to be. Their wayward golf balls were always landing on ground under repair, resulting in a free favorable drop. Little did I know that they carried a can of gray spray paint in their bag to create their own hazards. Or the time they put Super Glue in the finger tips of my golf glove and I had to go to work for a week with a glove on my hand. … Signed Can’t Take it Anymore
Mr. CTIA, Heck, I can’t take it anymore. That’s funny! … MM
My fiancee will not let me go on a once-in-a-lifetime golf trip to Bandon Dunes with my friends. She says I need to save the money for our wedding. I think that’s wrong. What say you? … Signed Second Thoughts.
I’m surprised you actually had to ask? According to the official MAN HANDBOOOK, a woman who will not let you golf BEFORE you get married is definitely going to drop the hammer on future golf outings once the ring is on her finger. Unless you want to hold her purse at the mall, cancel your NFL Sunday Ticket, have her mother move in with you, and only get sex on your birthday or when you buy her precious gems, my recommendation is to trade her in for different model. … MM
My playing partner is a jerk, especially around the putting surface. He is a big boy, about 340 pounds and he purposely walks all over my putting lines. By the time, he gets done lugging his oversized load around, it looks like a herd of Clydesdales pulled the Budweiser wagon across the green. At that point, it’s like putting down a gravel road, which doesn’t help my cause with money on the line. What should I do? … Signed Frustrated!
I recommend a non-traditional golf weapon … doughnuts! Assuming your bets are larger than the price of a couple dozen Krispy Kreams, I would suggest that you bring doughnuts to the course. Then strategically place doughnuts on the fringe of each green, on the opposite side of your putts. My guess is Mr. Cardiac Attack will be magnetically drawn to the sugary glaze, allowing you to drop your putts without fighing his Sasquatch prints. … MM