THE Sporting Event

So, here we go. Another year, another spring break in my fair city. Well, it's really only fair at this time of the year -- when folks are coming from far and wide to the Masters Golf Tournament -- and the city gets spruced up (the rest of the year, well, whatever). When I hear the word tournament, I usually think about a joust, which is far more suitable and entertaining, if you ask me. But, anyway, this week, Augusta becomes the capital of the golfing world. Lots of people leave town, some rent out their houses. One year, a golfer stayed across the street and I ended up being neighborly and led him to a doctor (because a bee stung his hand and, for a golfer, I guess that is MAJOR) -- nary a thank you, if you were wondering. One year, Prince Andrew stayed two houses down from me. I never got one peek at him, though, God knows, I tried. That was before my affair with Richard III started -- then, I just wanted to see Andrew because he was a Prince of England. Nowadays, unless illegitimacy was involved (no never!!) somewhere along the way, it would be because R3's blood is running through him in a roundabout way. How cool is that?

Very cool. Very, very cool.

Anyway, I'm not enamored of the game of golf nor the people who flood into the city and act as if those of us who live here all the time are in the way. Or the city government who will bend over ass-backwards to make sure all the visitors are happy. And, never mind the Augusta National folks who abide in their own little nazi-Vatican existence. But I digress and obviously harbor a bit of bitterness over the situation. But I am wondering what celebrities might be in town. I haven't seen one yet. And I've lived here over 25 years. Oh, well, maybe I'll find out after it's all over. Just so it isn't one I'd have wanted to snog.