Why GMs are better
Dec. 27th, 2007 10:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iamomOn a golf tour in Newfoundland, Tiger Woods drives his new Buick Enclave into a gas station in a remote outport. The pump attendant, who obviously knows nothing about golf, greets him in a typical Newfoundland manner, completely unaware of who the golf pro is.
"How's she cuttin' bye?" asks the attendant.
Tiger nods a quick "hello" and bends forward to pick up the nozzle. As he does so, two tees fall out of his shirt pocket onto the ground.
"What are dose?" asks the attendant.
"They're called tees," replies Tiger.
"Well, wat on god's earth are dey for?"
"They're for resting my balls on when I'm driving," says Tiger.
"Fookin' Jaysus!" blurts the Newfoundlander. "Doesn't GM tink of everting, now!"
"How's she cuttin' bye?" asks the attendant.
Tiger nods a quick "hello" and bends forward to pick up the nozzle. As he does so, two tees fall out of his shirt pocket onto the ground.
"What are dose?" asks the attendant.
"They're called tees," replies Tiger.
"Well, wat on god's earth are dey for?"
"They're for resting my balls on when I'm driving," says Tiger.
"Fookin' Jaysus!" blurts the Newfoundlander. "Doesn't GM tink of everting, now!"
