I played golf once when I was a sophomore in high school with a mutual friend. His step-dad fancied himself a fancy motherfucker (he wasn’t), and took us teens out for a around of 18 holes. I sucked hardcore, while my friend had a “respectable score”, which I can’t remember because I don’t really care.
I don’t care about golf, but I care about being fancy. If I ever choose to subject myself to the game ever again, I want other golfers to look at me in awe–that’s why I’d buy my attire at Loudmouth Golf. The owners of this stylish line know what’s up. They know that people play golf for exactly two reasons: to actually play the sport, or to look like a fucking idiot and play like a retarded 8-year old just to piss off real golfers. My stance is set firmly in the second camp.
If you really wanna go Euro-baller, compliment your pants with this shit: