I am going to Florida tomorrow to golf. I have been golfing for about a year, and I am good enough to not be embarrassing. I needed a travel case for my clubs to I went to Sports Authority tonight. As I'm standing in line to pay, with this giant fucking plastic coffin, the guy in line next to me says, "What's that for?" I say, "Golf clubs" with the hopes that this explanation is sufficient, and I don't have to talk any more. But no. He then says, "What is it, your husband's birthday?" I say, "I'm not married, this is for my clubs." Dead stare. Silence. He goes on, "I bet your clubs are pink." I say, "No, they are black and ivory and I made them from the bones and tusks of beasts that I myself slated." He didn't laugh. I left. My clubs are totally pink.