I’ve never been to the Masters, but I’ve always thought it was just like a mullet. What I’m saying is that the Masters is business up front, and a party in the back. To the national television audience, the Masters is just a bunch of rich white guys going to watch the world’s best golfers make a run at the green jacket. To the local Augustans, it means one thing…time to get stinken shitfaced with a bunch of brauds in bikinis!
On Wednesday, there was the traditional par 3 tournament that all but solidified the fact that Rori Sabatini would not win the Masters. Just down the street, the real attraction was the Hooters Par 3 Bikini contest. I don’t know about you, but a par 3 bikini contest sounds a lot better than watching Mickelson’s kid 4 putt.
Also, someone should tell that chick with the “1st runner up” sash, that if you’re not first you’re last.