oh good god

Could your head get any fatter? I mean, come on, you already have a tough time walking through doorways with that inflated head of yours; luckily it's full of air most of the time, kinda like a beach ball, so we can push you through doorways. Let's clear some things up first....

1. "The sun being in my eyes?" Well, sure it was, with that chrome dome of yours reflecting sunlight like a highly-polished mirror. How many times did I ask you to quit standing right next to me with your head tilted at the perfect angle to reflect the sun's glare right into my eyes? Twerp.

2. So you're perfect, huh? I agree. A perfect jackass who got lucky when the Big Guy Upstairs himself interfered with our game not once, but twice. First on your Miracle-Ass Putt, and then when he saved you from further embarrassment by putting that light pole in the way of your crappy shot right after the Putt...you know, the shot that I think was headed for southern Canada instead of the green. Living proof that He takes pity on fools and small children.

3. I'm not sure where you think playing with myself more would help. But what WOULD help is you not standing next to me trying to put your hand in my pocket while I'm swinging, claiming that you're "just looking for some change so you can buy a soda".

Hey look, I found a picture of you and your golf outfit. I mean, how could I win with you wearing those? I was laughing too hard.