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So, the dress code at country clubs is a whole different ball game. They act like they're protecting the Queen's wardrobe. I show up in jeans, and they look at me like I just committed a fashion felony. "Sir, denim is not permissible attire." I'm thinking, "But my jeans have fewer holes than your logic." And the golf attire! Who decided that pastel-colored pants and a polo shirt were the official uniform of the sport? I look like an Easter egg on the run. I tried to fit in, though. I bought the pants, the shirt, the visor—the whole ensemble. I walked onto the golf course, and a peacock mistook me for a relative. It's a fashion jungle out there.
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Ladies and gentlemen, have any of you ever been to a country club? You know, that exclusive place where people wear more polo shirts than they have friends? I recently found myself at one, and let me tell you, it's like entering a parallel universe. I walked in, and they looked at me like I was a lost child at Disneyland. I had to reassure them that I wasn't here to clean the pool; I just wanted to tell jokes. You ever notice how at a country club, everything is so proper? The etiquette is on a whole other level. I asked the waiter for some ketchup, and he looked at me like I just requested the secret formula for Coca-Cola. "Ketchup, sir? We have imported tomato reduction on the menu." I felt like I needed a PhD just to order fries.
And then there's the golf. Oh, the golf. I tried playing golf at a country club once. They handed me a club that cost more than my first car. I swung at the ball, missed, and suddenly I owed them a new mortgage. It's like playing a game of "Don't Touch Anything Expensive" on a giant lawn.
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Have you ever eavesdropped on conversations at a country club? It's like tuning into a podcast for the elite. I overheard someone saying, "My butler has a butler." I didn't even know that was a thing! I barely have a roommate, and they're talking about having staff for their staff. I felt like I accidentally stumbled into the VIP section of life. And the gossip! Country club gossip is like a soap opera with more zeros in the drama. "Did you hear about Muffy's scandalous cucumber sandwich incident?" I'm thinking, "I just want to know if there's Wi-Fi in this place." But no, they're busy uncovering the mysteries of the cucumber conspiracy.
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Let's talk about the food at country clubs. They have these menus that are more complicated than IKEA instructions. I asked the waiter about one dish, and he starts describing it like it's a rare artifact. "Our chef has crafted a delicacy using a fusion of organic kale, heirloom tomatoes, and quinoa harvested by monks under a full moon." I'm just thinking, "Can I get a burger with that?" And the portions! You ever order a steak at a country club? It's like they're trying to recreate the last supper with that slab of beef. I asked for a doggy bag, and they handed me a personalized cooler with a certificate of authenticity. I felt like I adopted the cow.
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