Trophy Wives Season 2, 2010-2011

Sandy, Val, Vivian, Joanne, Ardella, Polly

The Waiter Won!

Trophy Wives live complex lives,

And sometimes feel quite low.

But when we join together,

We always let that go.

Our pleasure is the company,

Of friends who really care.

To strike the white ball at our feet,

And watch it in the air.

The challenge is the figuring

Of who has won a skin.

Counting strokes and handicapping;

Who will finally win?

In the end, the waiter won.

He rightfully deserved it.

Not only did we play like crap,

We all agree…..he earned it!

Vivian's Cooking 

Trophy Wives have games to play,

They love to Ham 'n Egg it.

Teams of them converge on Dye,

And show 'em how to claim it!

They drive in water, broccoli bushes,

Hit the rough and roll.

But in the end our mates made par,

And we have won the hole!

The teams that took home all the dough,

Have other fish to fry.

They need to cook up recipes,

The Trophy's want to try.

You know we're multi-talented,

And often we will boast.

But pressures now on Vivian,

To make us all a roast!



Gioconda



Susan

Bonnie

Cheryle and Val

Val's Fedora Hat

Trophy Wives amuse themselves

In Val's Fedora hat.

Consume a fishy cracker,

and chat about a cat.

They render strong opinions

About their doggies days,

Wishing the "Four Seasons"

Accepted doggy stays.

They choose the color of their pups,

To spare the floor of stain.

For rubbing dirt from paws of white,

Would surely be a pain.

And when the hearts of Trophy pets,

Have troubles with their beat.

A small device can be installed,

To get them on their feet.

These pets of yours are turning out

To be a real distraction.

Instead, I need your handicaps,

Divided by a fraction.

The pops I have to divvy up,

Make scorecards look so blurry.

I am the Chief...I'm begging you,

Reduce them in a hurry!

Kids and Pups

Trophy Wives love chocolate hearts,

Walnuts, dates and pears.

A cautionary tale for those,

Who wish to hike with bears.

For tundra’s can be dangerous

Without the Grizzly wires.

And absent of the wood from trees,

How will they start warm fires?

O’ can’t we just stop worrying,

And making such a fuss?

Our kids will manage famously,

Because they’re just like us!

Enough with kids…they’re on their own

They’ll text us with “Wuz Zup?”

A new dilemma faces us,

The Stella Gracie pup.

Should we? Could we? We don’t know.

Who will be the sitter?

If the breeder has her way,

They’ll buy the whole damn litter!

Now there’s a thought for Cap’n Jack.

Though it may be in jest.

Those sixteen pups will surely make,

Ol’ Jackie be the guest!



Gracie

A Trophy Wife Bartender

Trophy Wives need cocktails,

Fire pits, propane:

Earmuffs, gloves and parkas,

Before we go insane!

The notice we were given

Was not quite up to par.

Thank you! Susan Stringer,

For service from the bar!

We work so hard at playing,

Shooting pars and finding ditches.

Every hazard Pete Dye gave us,

Turned us in to big golf bitches.

Unglued is not our style.

We won’t bitch or scream or holler.

A Trophy Wife will NOT say “NO!”

To cocktails for a dollar!

So, now I have a plan in mind.

And NO, I won’t surrender.

Instead I’m on the lookout

For a Trophy Wife bartender!

View Opponents Asses

Trophy Wives use gadgets

To measure where the flag is.

When flags are not erected,

They'll view opponents asses.

Our assets may be lucrative,

When worshipped from afar.

But never have I heard an ass

Will help you get a par.

Actually, they’re accurate.

Cause Sue and Sarah won.

An era of computing shots

Of asses has begun!

Polly Want a Cracker?

Trophy Wives play shotguns,

But not before they eat.

Desert Falls was this week's choice,

For all of us to meet.

The five of us were feisty,

While Val had shit to tend to.

Chilled or not, she hit the spot,

And played like she was meant to.

Polly was our winner.

None of us could “crack-er”

We couldn’t really give her shit,

So we just gave her crackers.

The Chief…she had a good round.

Her birdies numbered three.

So I will sit out next week,

And Cheryle will be “me!”

Winning the Revolta

Trophy Wives are sexy,

Alluring with their grooves.

An audience compels them,

To show off all their moves.

While grooving might be groovy,

Others use their head.

Whip up some bananas,

And make banana bread.

But taste and tits aren’t all we have,

When channeling Travolta.

We showed our pride to Chief and Viv

For winning the ‘Revolta’

We women are successful.

Men love our assets too.

Precisely why we’re Trophy Wives

And live the life we do!

Paying Off Our Debts

Trophy Wives play mystery games,

And feel a bit encumbered.

They pair themselves at first by name,

But then their names were numbered.

Once we figured all that out,

We had to add the nets;

Summing up the lowest ones,

Then paying off our debts.

‘G’ got a bit nostalgic

When she saw a butterfly,

While Chief had viewed a pesky coot

As mother’s passing by.

Oh don’t we wish our memories

Could always be so grand.

That somehow there’s a spirit,

Reaching out a helping hand.

If that’s the case then we are blessed

In everything we do.

It’s nice to know a higher voice

Is watching over you!

How Golfing Goes

Trophy Wives prepare themselves

For games out on the links.

Occasionally they play a round

That seems more like a jinx.

The balls attract the water.

The clubs fling at our mouth.

Directing it to northward,

It ends up going south.

We hope our weight is forward.

We pray our weight is right.

The weighty putt moves toward the hole

And ends up out of sight.

But yesterday the moons aligned

To throw us off our course.

But we won’t shrug our heads too low

And have any remorse.

Instead we’ll go out next week

And watch our lady pros.

So when we do resume our play,

We’ll know how golfing go’s.

We Stack the Tower Artfully

Trophy Wives are beautiful,

And nothing rhymes with that.

Except a word like ‘dutiful’

And none of us like that!

Our ‘duty’ is to party.

Drink wine and sip champagne.

Eat cheeses, salmon, lemon bars,

Whoever could complain?

We stack the tower artfully,

And topple it with fun.

Thank You to my Trophy Wives

Each and every one!

Our Bruised and Braveheart Val

Trophy Wives get bruised a bit,

They will not fall apart.

Even when their tire’s flat

And hit by a golf cart.

They pick themselves up valiantly

And when the shock subsides,

They’ll play a breezy game of golf

With good friends by their side.

A bag of ice, some Arnica,

A sandwich and some chips

Gave Val a second chance at life,

With few comedic quips.

This wasn't one to laugh about.

We worried ‘bout our gal.

The roughest, toughest Trophy Wife,

Our bruised but braveheart Val.

                    

William and Kate

Trophy Wives may be obsessed

With William, Kate and Harry.

While typing out these words, your Chief,

Is watching as they marry.

Oh how has my encumbered life

Become so very pale,

That now all I can think about’s

A royal fairy tale.

Where princes marry commoners,

In palaces and castles.

While I just play a round of golf

With all its ghastly hassles.

It’s tough to know what I would choose

If I were pretty Kate.

Tiara’s, kingdoms, carriages…

How long can one girl wait?

But wait no more Ms. Middleton,

You now are Mrs. Wales.

And you’ve fulfilled a dream come true

In royal fairy tales.

Say A Fond Goddbye

Trophy Wives are winding down,

Their season soon to close.

The memories remain so dear

Through poetry and prose.

The golf we play’s a vehicle

To join us once a week.

But friendships at the core of what

We all reach out to seek.

So search no more my Trophy Wives

We’ve bonded yet again.

And all we did was play some rounds

Of golf without our men!

The time will pass and we will see

That no time has gone by.

Just set your sights for ‘Season Three’

And say a fond Goodbye!