Shank You Very Much Mr. Woods

*NOTE* I found this in the editing pile of my old blog. It's a little late, but since I am a person who can't seem to give things up...here it is.

Golf was never my thing growing up. Frankly, my dad was a farmer, and golf was something 'fer the upper class'. My husband, however, was raised on the golf course. When we were dating, it became a requirement (at least in my mind) to pretend I knew what golf was all about. The bad thing was that golf seemed to come on the television every single Sunday, and so I had to do a lot of lying.
Talk about a sport with a lot of weird lingo. Sometimes my husband would pump his fist and shout 'EAGLE, YES!' I would search and search the skies for some golden eagle soaring through the air, and couldn't understand why he was so excited seeing one. It also seemed that seeing a 'birdie' was a good thing too. I couldn't figure it out, and I didn't even know an animal called a 'bogey'. I thought maybe it was an imaginary being, like the boogey man, that no one could really see. It made sense in my mind because people seemed really upset when one came around. (Plus, give me a break, I'm a blond.)
Eventually, when marriage became an option, I had to come clean and admit I had no idea what he was talking about. What ensued, was ten years of learning the sport of golf. Now, fifteen years since saying "I do", I can actually watch a golf game and tell you exactly what is happening and what the name of the shot is they are making. I think my husband's proudest moment was when we watched Tiger Woods win the Masters and I knew the other guy had to bogey his shot and Tiger had to birdie his. I saw actual love in his eyes that day, and now golf on Sunday is something I love to take an afternoon nap to.
For those of you not acquianted with the fascinating game of golf, a shank is one of the worst shots you can make in golf. Most of the time it happens out of the blue, when you're having one of the most amazing games of your life. You get up to hit, miss the club head, and instead hit the ball with the handle. This causes the ball to fly off into some weird destination.
Now because I have this learned love for the golf game, I can see that Tiger Wood's life is a shank golf hit. His life was going good, he forgot to pay attention to those closest to him, and wham-o, his life goes veering off into the bushes.(I mean look at this picture--we should have known)
To be truthful, I was really disappointed in Tiger when the mistress(es) news hit the airwaves. Okay, that is a huge lie. I was disgusted in him, and even more distressed when he came back to golf and got more publicity than the winner of the match he played in. Frankly, I'm sick of famous cheating men getting pat on the back for being brave enough to return to something they are making millions of dollars off of anyway. Yeah, real noble.
Then I realized something.
I should be thanking Tiger.
You see, if he could sleep around with whomever he wanted and then claim he had an addiction, well what's to stop me from doing the same thing with other various weaknesses I currently have. (Thankfully, racking up notches on my bedpost is not one of them.)
Some of the things I think I would like to use the 'I-couldn't-help-it-I'm-addicted-to' card on are listed below:

The Leaving-items-whereever-you-feel-like-it Addiction
I worked retail and hated when I'd find something that belonged in the clothing section lying in the middle of housewares. Because of this, whenever I realize I don't need something in my cart, I hike back and put it where it belongs. NO LONGER. Now I will leave that bottle of shampoo mixed in with the size 7 shoes and not feel the least bit guilty. I can just say, "I'm addicted to leaving things in weird places."(I bet some of these people have my same addiction--it's very prevalent, you know)

The Hogging-the-closet Addiction
Stacking my clothes in my husband's side of the closet is a current past time of mine. I honestly have a ton of clothes, but nothing to wear. So...I need a little bit more closet space. I can't help it. Sometimes I just have to hang my dress in his polo shirt section. He seriously hates it! BUT I don't have to worry about it anymore because I can just say, "I'm addicted to putting my clothes in your side of the closet."

The Shouting-obscenities-at-stupid-drivers Addiction
I'm not a gigantic swearer (haha)However, when I drive, I cuss a lot. Everyone is going either too fast or too slow or turning in the opposite direction I want them to turn in. I knew it was getting really bad when my nine year old son said, "You do realize they can't hear you." and I instantly thought, well then I better buy a bullhorn. Thank goodness I don't even need to worry about it anymore. Because I can just say, "I"m addicted to calling people &*%)@$^ wearing (%^&%^>?-ers when I drive."(Move you explicative explicative cuss word)

Anyway, you get the idea. For these many weeks I've sat around thinking about how Tiger destroyed the notion that little kids should look up to him, when I should have been thanking him for giving me an out on ever having to be a decent person again. It's all win-win.

I am curious though--what are some of the things the rest of you would like to claim "addiction disability" to?