George stood over his tee shot on the 450 yard 18th hole for what seemed an eternity.
He waggled, looked up, looked down, waggled again, but didn't start his back swing.
Finally his exasperated partner asked, "What the he77 is taking so long?"
"My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse balcony," George explained. "I want to make a perfect shot."
"Good lord," his companion exclaimed. "You don't have a snowball's chance in he77 of hitting her from here."
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