This Fucking Gal
The gal carding a stylish six after a full snowman
Everyone watched the chunk, the drop, the bunker visit, and the two-putt, but somehow the number that gets written down is chic, minimal, and divorced from events.
The scorecard is serving fiction and confidence.
The gal carding a stylish six after a full snowman. The scorecard is serving fiction and confidence.
Everyone watched the chunk, the drop, the bunker visit, and the two-putt, but somehow the number that gets written down is chic, minimal, and divorced from events.
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This Fucking Gal
Everyone watched the chunk, the drop, the bunker visit, and the two-putt, but somehow the number that gets written down is chic, minimal, and divorced from events.
Keep going
Same species, different habitat.
The round is now delayed for content capture.
This fucking gal turned one tee shot into three takes for Instagram.
She resets the tripod, asks for one more angle, and takes rehearsal swing after rehearsal swing like everyone behind her paid to be on set.
A water bottle on each one, like little tiny flags of occupation.
This fucking gal has occupied three machines with one towel and a dream.
She bounces between stations every seven minutes and gets offended if you touch the one with the Stanley cup on it because apparently that means reserved.
Zone 6 energy. Zone 2 positioning.
This fucking gal lined up with three bags and a boarding group that was not even close.
She lines up before her group is called, blocks the scanner lane with a tote ecosystem, and acts stunned when the gate agent sends her right back to the sea of seats.