If God had wanted women to bowl, he would've put their breasts on their backs so we would have something to watch while waiting our turn
I'll tell you what I do then, We'll stand you in front of a mirror, I'll begin strangling you, when you reach the shade of blue that is satisfactory to you, you yell "Moo" and I'll stop
Women's Golf is not a sport
You go home and tell your daddy you have the mail-man's eyes