Poprocks.com: Narcissism Central: Otto Putt, Owen's 30th B-day, 05.01.04
Owen came home on Saturday morning to find that our always-resourceful housemate Ric (under encouragement from me, the provocateur of all plans that are creative, grandiose, decadent, well, frankly -- completely insane) had turned our 3-bedroom Victorian apartment into a 9-hole mini golf course. The astro-turf greens had ramps, obstructions, tunnels, and sand traps weighted and tested for playability.
The entire apartment had become Otto Putt. But we still needed to cook, clean, shop, and prepare for the party. As we carried in bags of party food from Safeway and Trader Joe's, Owen, Bethany, August and I kept tripping over the side-rail for hole #3 that followed along the island through the kitchen.
Oh, and here's a video clip (shot with drunken cinematography and slurring, squealing surround-sound) of people playing the hole (#2?) that went underneath the wine rack in the kitchen. Yes, this is what drunken, indoor mini-golf looks and sounds like.
|
owen_michael.jpg)
