While he is an incredibly dedicated, talented and handsome writer, there are occasions when even Kelly cannot spare the time to share his wisdom with the world. We must share him with his other commitments, which likely include red carpet premieres, charity events, mall openings and other obligations reserved for A-list celebrities/columnists. We are forced to go on. Somehow.
Thankfully, when these rare days occur (well, they aren't THAT rare, he just, um, turns down all the offers because he's so committed to you, the reader) he turns the pen over to someone familiar to us all. This is one of those instances.
Whoa. Hi there, America. Sup? Who am I? I'll give you a little clue:
YOU DA MAN!!
Oh yeah. That's right. I'm the champ/American treasure that yells "You da man!" at golf tournaments. Oh, you've heard of me? Heh heh. I'm pretty loud, so that's no surprise.
First of all, I gotta say, YOU'RE WELCOME.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "This poor guy must've been shot through the head with a nail gun" and "What you do, while amazing, is easy." You are NOT da man for thinking that, bro. What I do takes a little something called commitment. Heard of it? You think ANY annoying clown in a beer-stained polo holding a half-eaten hot dog can pull a stunt like this off? Let me ask you this: did Evel Knievel even attempt it? That should tell you all you need to know.
This isn't easy. I mean, sometimes I have to stop laughing at HILARIOUS text messages from my bro Mullen first. Hang on a sec, he's sending me one right now. Oh. My. Lawd. Ha ha!
Oh Mullen. That is SO Mullen. The Mull-dog!
So, anyway. Yeah. You can't just jump in and spout off anything you want, whenever you want. It's an art. I'm like a verbal Picasso over here. I was born with this talent.
But I do have a specific "game plan" that I'm going to share with you hipster "reader" folk so you, too, can approach my level greatness/magnificence/magnifigreatness. I shouldn't even be sharing this. But maybe if you get good enough we can go hang out at the bar, drink beer and talk Jack Nicholson movies. I could use a friend. Please?
Step 1: Get hammered. You can't radiate this amount of pure, uncut annoyance sober. Believe me, I've tried. When I first began this, sober, I'd just whisper, "You're an exceptional golfing athlete" politely under my breath following a swing. That wasn't doing me - or anyone around me, nor the audience watching at home - any good. I mean, how could these people KNOW - I mean really KNOW - man-wise how "da" these guys truly were? Something needed to be done. So I enlisted the help of a captain to be my wingman. Captain freaking Morgan - that's who. That's how the magic was born, kids. When I drink with the Captain, magic is born. I wouldn't be surprised if David Copperfield came up to me one day wanting a hug from his true father.
Step 2: Stand on tiptoes and puff out chest. I know you can't see me because the stupid camera is on the golfer, but you can just imagine that's what I'm doing, right? Guess what? You're imagining correctly, dude, because my chest is way, WAY out. Like this. Oh, wait you can't see me. Man, this writing thing is EXACTLY like TV! Like, OK, you know how you always see a close-up of Bruce Banner as he's turning into the hulk and his chest gets so big that it pops his buttons clean off? Yeah, dude. It's like that. I hulk it up.
Step 3: Shout "You da man!" Timing. Oh. Dude. No. Dude. Listen. Timing is EVERYTHING. It took me some time to get this right. Too early and they kick you out for disturbing the event (disturbing the event with too much masculine AWESOMENESS maybe). If you're too late you're partially drowned out with applause. The dumb thing is, golfers THINK the crowd is applauding their swing when in reality it's for my glorious interjection. Oh, did you just read the dripping excellence that was the phrase "glorious interjection"? That's going on a mug T-O-N-I-G-H-T.
Step 4: Variety, yo! Sometimes you just HAVE to mix it up. Just when you think I'm about to hit you with a killer "You da man!" I'll instead shout, "Get in the hole!" Because I'm a golf fan and I want that ball to GET IN THE HOLE. Because, man, what if it DOESN'T KNOW WHAT IT'S SUPPOSED TO DO? Balls are stupid like that. It doesn't matter if it's on a tee shot on a par-5. I will instruct that ball where to go with the volume of an exploding amusement park or a kindergarten class bowling with a bunch of cymbals. Rest assured, after I yell, that ball knows what's up and what to do.
Step 4: Loud & proud: Bask in the triumph of a job well done. It's not as if I draw solace and comfort in my empty life from the sliver of hope that millions of people heard my disembodied voice or anything. Nah. I'm a champ. I know it. You know it. Everyone knows it. Boo-ya.
OK, sure, SOMETIMES I'm banned from the big, swanky televised tour events for being too awesome (it's a curse I'm forced to live with). How do I get around this? Well, that's easy! I'll drive by local golf courses that have holes near the highway. That's when I'll stick my head outside of my truck and yell "fore!" at the top of my lungs, disrupting your swing and your day.
You're probably wondering, "Why wouldn't you yell 'You da man?'" Excellent question! NOT. Guess what? I don't know you! I have no idea if you have all of the qualities needed to be "DA man" like Tiger Woods or Phil Mickelson. You're lucky you get anything at all. Call it a public service. You're welcome.
Well that's all the time I have. I'm about to go start the wave at a high school football game. Who's with me?! Nobody? Wait, you, did I see you raise your hand? No? Just me then? OK.
I'm so awesome, you guys. Be glad you knew me before I made it big or landed in prison for my fourth DWI. By the way, can I get a ride home? I need to feed my snake. No? Maybe I can ask Mullen.
You Da Man! Guy is an annoying human being. You can find him at weddings being the drunkest guy making inappropriate comments during a speech he wasn't asked to give, talking really loudly on his Bluetooth in public or painting his chest the color of his favorite football team on Sundays. Follow the much classier Kelly on Twitter @pancake_bunny for gentlemanly guffaws.