With me sitting in my underwear pwning n00bs in Call Of Duty (the new one comes out in 10 days, I need to brush up, and buy EA stock), when Paul calls and tells me that we’re still going to a driving range. It looks like it’s going to 2012 outside, so forgive me for thinking that the plan may have been off. Also, I just ate a King Kong burger for breakfast and Paul has 60 bucks set aside for steamers. The end of this story will involve probably 1 of 2 things:
1. Me having the violent squirts in Paul’s dad’s Corolla.
2. One of us getting electrocuted on a driving range.
Did I mention that this is all happening in Plum Island MA? Where the women have less teeth and the men like it that way.
I’d like to get a full image of you two on the links. Put your vocabulary to good use and paint a picture for your readers (me and Nina). How do Chucks function as golf shoes? And there better be some goddamn argyle.