STAY-AT-HOME-DOG: The Day of Reckoning is Upon Us... well, upon me anyway

Don't worry... I don't plan to utilize the wealth of biblical knowledge I accumulated during my early years as a back pew sliding Southern Baptist and go all fire and brimstone on your asses (although I will if/when I feel you need a good scare). Fortunately for you, today is not the day I plan to freak you out with apocalyptic biblical tales of the final condemnation of the unrighteous dead at the end of all time. So despite the title of this post, it does not refer to the final and eternal judgment by God of all nations that will take place after the resurrection of the dead... thereby making them undead? Hell, if I knew there were zombies in the Bible, I would have paid closer attention during Sunday school classes and Vacation Bible School, but I digress. The title of this post, instead, refers to a day of reckoning: a time when the effects of one's past mistakes or misdeeds catch up with one. Lucky for me, I'm still outpacing most of my past misdeeds, and I don't foresee them catching up with me. Then again, I'm sure to catch hell from one or more family members for using the blasphemous photo above. But that's the least of my worries...

I've been avoiding writing this post all week. As usual, my mouth overshot my lawn game abilities, and today is my day of atonement to all those whose ass I promised to kick on the Karl Family acreage. Allow me to explain... If you read my last blog entry, then you know we were in Northern Minnesota this past weekend for the annual Karl Invitational. It's a yearly (friendly?) competition amongst friends to see who the best ladder golf, croquet and badminton players are. And despite my liabilities - and those who know me best know there are many - I still have a high tendency to bloviate about my awesomeness at useless, trivial

things - such as the aforementioned lawn games. But that's just me. I can't change who I am. It's all part of my manly essence. My hubris for declaring my aptitude for such things as ladder golf, croquet, badminton, _________________ [insert the name of any backyard game that requires one to hold a beer in one's hand at all times] is legendary. For example, ever since I won the coveted set of Golden Balls (complete with faux leather nutsack) for winning the first ever ladder golf competition some five years ago, I've drowned on ad nauseam about my prowess on the ladder golf field of battle (aka John & Diana Karl's backyard). Yet I failed to defend my title the following year, plus every attempt to regain the championship has proven disastrous. I was defeated in the 2009 Karl Invitational Ladder Golf Finals by an eight year old girl - AN EIGHT YEAR OLD GIRL! And this year I went down in a blaze of whatever the opposite of "glory" is - shame, dishonor, ugliness - when I was knocked out of the tournament in the first round by a rookie player. At least she CLAIMS to have only played ladder golf one other time in her entire life, but I'm calling bullpucky after watching her handle those (ladder golf) balls with the precision and expertise of a professional. Anyway, so much for the trophy case I built in the garage last week... that is until 2011 when - to quote another famous Stewie - victory shall be mine!

Anyway, I hope you'll forgive me if I leave out the gritty details of the croquet and badminton tournaments. You see, I'm trying to forget about them myself. I will just say this - just like last year, I once again had a fabulously talented badminton partner in Darcy Karl, yet still somehow managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. We placed second. But I was so certain my team would win the tournament this year that I brought flashy (see also trashy) team jerseys - Darcy even wore her jersey, thereby proving her own awesomeness for putting up with my weirdness.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I'm still gonna provide some captions for the following photos from the 2010 Karl Invitational... but feel free to fill in the blanks.

Someone didn't want me to win since my mallet was obviously sabotaged. But how does that explain my double-chin?