I love miniature golf. Back in college, I spent many a drunken evening goofing off with friends, avoiding the last few pages of a term paper, or just getting the cheap thrill of pretending you're an athlete by getting your ball into Mickey Mouse's left eye to win a free game. Eat me, Arnold Palmer! But the goofy "course" I played on then compares not at all to this joyous wonderland in Tucson, AZ. Poo Monkey, indeed...


Web Junkie

Steve West scours the Web searching for interest or absurdity and then shakes his head ruefully when he finds it. Read more »

What Goes Up...

Lauren and I went on that rock climbing event that she won during daddy/daughter bingo night. I corresponded with her principal, a nice guy who does this often. I asked him what I needed to bring besides bandages and his only recommendation was loose clothing. Go »

When You Care Enough to Hit Send

E-cards of an unusual and hilarious nature. I haven't tried one so I don't know if they work - it appears that they do. But they're extremely funny nonetheless. Go »

No Clowns On Halloween Allowed At My Door

Or "How Ronald McDonald Kicked My Ass" About ten years ago, shortly before Brenda and I got married, we attended a Halloween party at a friend's house. The primary reason to get together was obviously to dress up like we did when we were little but secondarily to get drunk as a sailor on shore leave. The standard "funny name" cocktails were offered like "sex on the beach" and "southern screw" and "raw sewage". Go »

Got Dem Sunday Shopping UOAS Blues

Weekly shopping or as it has become, my weekly stroll through Satan's marketplace. I consciously avoided UOAS's line and since there were only two lines, chose the one next door. Let's call this one Slightly Less Ugly On A Stick. Go »

Father's Day Memories

One of the greatest gifts I ever received was on my twelfth birthday. My Dad gave me a small box with a note inside. It read, “Son, this year I will give you 365 hours, an hour every day after dinner. Go »

Hair's The Thing

I just got back from getting a haircut. I sat in the chair at a local salon and reminisced about my childhood and accompanying my father to his weekly hair trimmings. We went to a pretty old-fashioned Mayberry barbershop in suburban DC that was the Italian version of Floyd's. Go »