TPC*

The 9am bottle of vodka should have been my first clue that the day would not have a happy ending.

The plan was for the gang from Tucson to descend on The Phoenix Open for a day of fun in the sun,

commencing with an early morning "pre-drinking" drinking fest at some guy's Kierland house.  By the time I fetched Shana and Zach around 2, following several loud, drunken, disoriented, choppy phone calls and texts on a not working very well in the golf-clogged cell site system "I'm on Princess, I'm at The Princess, I'm on Hayden, no, the Greenway-Hayden, no Bell, no Frank Lloyd Wright Loop somewhere" there was a red, tear-stained face and no gang from Tucson anywhere to be found.

Nobody drove (I'm sure of it). Nobody threw up (I don't think). Nobody got arrested (I don't think). And there was only one ear piercing (that I'm aware of).

I never did understand golf.

*Totally Plastered Children