Have you ever been in that situation where you bought your partner a bunch of Christmas presents that included some boxes of chocolate, but in the course of wrapping all the presents, you accidentally eat 2, maybe 3 of the boxes of chocolates by mistake, and so you have to hide all the evidence of the eaten chocolates? But your partner is so gosh darn on top of things that they find the evidence anyway, and you have to explain why there are three boxes of consumed chocolates hidden in the leg of your only good set of pants that are hanging in the closet? Yeah, me neither. But if it did happen to me, I would probably argue that the guy who bought the chocolates was at least trying to be festive.
Which leads me to the meat and candied yams of this column, which is: what do you do if you accidentally eat half of your partner’s Christmas presents before they even have a chance to open them? And the answer to that is quite simply, take them out for a round of frolf at the Tow Hill Community Frolf Course. (Not sure if that’s what it’s really called, but it certainly sounds official.)
Built by contributions from a few local residents, the Tow Hill Community Frolf Course™ lies nestled in the forest directly behind the Tow Hill Community Covered Space and Pull Out™ across from the old Trout House. It is a beautiful affair of trees, sand, saw-whet owl calls, and hanging painted PVC pipe. It is comprised of 18 majestic frolf “holes” carved out of a wild and unforgiving natural environment. The fairways are unjust, the greens devoid of any morals, and the view, mentally inescapable. And for the low, low price of being nice to people, you too can taste the sultry enchantment of its alluring charm.
For those out of touch with what’s considered cool these days, frolf is a sport that was invented in California in the early ’60s by a group of hippies who were playing frisbee when one of them accidentally threw their frisbee in the garbage can. And lo, a sport was born.
The game is played much like its sporting cousin — golf. In lieu of golf balls, players use discs to throw at targets in as few throws as possible. And also like golf, there is a lot of swearing at inanimate objects and wishing great schadenfreude upon the other players while giving them unsolicited tips on throwing accuracy and totally unwarranted relationship advice.
For example, I found that if I criticized my co-player’s throwing style immediately after throwing my disc into a tree 30 metres to the left of where I was aiming, their frustration and visible annoyance with me would be almost palpable and drastically affect their overall game.
And then I pounce! For, as I — and I’m sure many of you — have learned, it’s this: The best way to win at any sport is to make your opponent feel so uncomfortable and disrespected that they get so fed up with you they demand to go home, and you win by forfeit. And always reinforce the point that you won so that the experience is so horrible that they never want to play again. This way, you get to claim Champion status for the rest of your life. And if that isn’t what marriage is all about, then I guess I shouldn’t be giving out relationship advice as often as I do. But make no mistake, I’m in it to win it! And I’m not going to settle for second best!