There are a few rules concerning the mens only golf trip that must be abided by. Not many, just a couple. And........I made them up. In case you were wondering.
You were wondering, right?
Rule numero uno: What happens on the golf trip stays on the golf trip.
I do not want to know that you haven't showered or brushed your teeth the entire time you were gone. And I know this happens because once the man broke rule number one, before it was invented, and told me.......stuff.
Plus, I saw his toothbrush sitting next to mine this morning when I woke up.
I do not want to know that you ate a steak the size of Montana, in Montana, and with it you ordered a side of ......steak.
I do not want to know this.
And I especially do not want to know that you chased all that good Montana beef with cheese cake and then rolled yourself back over the border into Canada.
Rule, the second: If you take your guns with you then I don't care who gets shot as long as it isn't you.
Or my sister's husband because that would make things awkward for me knowing that your gun killed her husband. And I like her husband. Who knows if I would even like the next one.
Or my brother. He can't die either because well, he's my brother and your guns aren't allowed to shoot my brothers.
That's pretty much it. I'm not particular. And if the man follows all the rules then all will be well in my kingdom.
I mean.......our kingdom.