Fast Car
February 19th, 2007
I was downright perky today after a solid weekend of sleep, sweet sleep. Sorry for that sad little post yesterday, which was about as whiny as whiny gets, honestly. If I were you, I’d be all, shut up, drama queen! Go stick your boob in a slide and jam it shut – hard – and catch the nipple in the clamp while you’re at it! Well, maybe not that last bit, I hope. That would hurt.
I neglected to mention an exciting bit from the weekend that was both weirdly portended and bizarrely upsetting. Remember the cat I was so willing to sell down the river? He’s taken to chewing cords lately, unbeknownst to A. and I – a fact I discovered yesterday when I heard a strange sizzling noise and watched his furry little body leap 10 feet back, his hair – HIS HAIR – standing on end, all mussed from what I could only imagine was one hell of a shock, not unlike the one I received when I was four and decided to stick my mom’s car keys into the kitchen outlet. I was, if you were wondering, pretending to open a car door, that much I remember quite distinctly.
In other exciting news, A. is out of town, which leaves me to an entire week of single quasi-parenting of two pets, one of whom is an apparent fire risk, and eating like a Lean Cuisine commercial. For dinner tonight, for example, I had half a pierogi, some broccoli flotsam and a sad little piece of chicken unearthed from the crisper that I think may be from our lunch at the Outback on Saturday, but no one is sure. But, as Outback says, life will still be here tomorrow, unless my intestines come screaming out of my body from bad chicken. Time will tell, and my colon is prepared either way, for I have lots of experience.
Finally, I think it’s time to admit that I not only invested a fair amount of time and energy into NBA All-Star weekend (Gerald Green! The Slam Dunk Contest! Anyone? Just me then?), but I also watched the Daytona 500. Let me say that again: I watched the Daytona 500, and not only did I watch the Daytona 500, but I was prepared for the event by a friend who knows something about NASCAR and I liked it . There were crashes! Drama! Big-haired wives! There were hot drivers in sweaty uniforms…men who probably know how to barbecue a rack of ribs in their sleep and can tell the difference between Natty Light and Milwaukee’s Best with a sniff test. It was all going so well – I even learned about Kasey Kahne and Kevin Harvick and pondered whether Junior will abandon his stepmother in favor of his father’s old car at Childress! Yes! Am NASCAR expert!
If anyone wants to come get me, I’ll take plane tickets to anywhere, because this… this is very scary, and I’m telling this so that someone will stop me. Please.
But I mean, I think that’s impressive, and shows a remarkable amount of effort to assimilate, if assimilation is something to aspire to, and I’m not sure it is. I did grow up five miles from an Indy raceway, in the home town of Mario Andretti, though, so it’s in my blood, is what I’m saying. Or not saying, because God, what does that even mean? Am I going to start wearing wifebeaters and talking smack about Tony Stewart? Maybe! And maybe you can’t stop me! Maybe I don’t want to be stopped! My dad’s driver is Mark Martin, and I see where he’s coming from, if only because I did a project with Roush Racing many years ago, and honestly, there’s something weirdly sexy about a man who has the balls and/or confidence to drive a Viagra car.
See? Am unstoppable. And also weirdly kinky in unfortunately creepy geriophile kind of way. But honestly, ah, these drivers get girls in the same way that baseball and NBA players do. Fascinating, particularly given that under any other circumstances, the best some of them could do is find a woman who has all of her own teeth.
And while all this is very exciting, I completely blew it around lap 82, when I eagerly looked up and queried the room, “So! How many laps is this thing, does anyone know?”
*stunned silence*
I mean, how was I supposed to know why it’s called the Daytona 500? It could be 500 anything! Five hundred people! Five hundred cigarettes! FIVE HUNDRED BOTTLES OF MILWAUKEE’S BEST!
Whatever. I’m switching to Formula One. Or Indy. Or something. Are they different?
*Tracy Chapman
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
14 Comments Add your own
1. whoorl | February 19th, 2007 at 9:57 pm
Gerald Green was awesome, but I loved Dwight Howard and the sticker!
2. jonniker | February 19th, 2007 at 10:05 pm
Oh that sticker! Yes, yes, I guess. But you know, seeing how bad the Celtics suck ass, I was happy to see them do something – anything – decently. Also, I have a pair of autographed Dee Brown Reebok pumps, and loved the old-school shout out. I just wish Dee Brown had been there, if only to boost the value of my sneakers, because I’m a mercurial ass like that. Just kidding.
Kind of.
3. Jennifer | February 20th, 2007 at 2:06 am
Ahh, I’m LOL at the “how many laps” question. I wouldn’t have known either – I assume it’s 500 miles, and I don’t know if a lap equals a mile! Well good for you that you got some sleep, so now is the insane work schedule over for a while?
4. Allison | February 20th, 2007 at 5:00 am
Ugh, do not switch to Formula One. Back when we had cable, the sound of Sunday morning was those stupid Formula One cars screaming around the turns of little towns in France or something.
Am jealous of your week of solitude. My husband left today for 3 days but….my parents are in town.
5. Claire | February 20th, 2007 at 7:10 am
ooh, i had no idea what the 500 stood for either.
but i have the sense not to care.
first sunny is getting dressed up, now you’re talking about car racing. something is going on down there in the state of florida, and whatever it is, it’s ugly.
escape as soon as you can… hopefully before you’re eating alligator.
6. Christine | February 20th, 2007 at 7:15 am
I fear you have lived in Florida too long when you start watching the Daytona 500. Lord I worked in a Ruby Tuesday 40 minutes away from Daytona during the races, when Valentine’s Day also fell, on a Saturday no less. AND ohmygod. The worst waitressing day ever, so bad it was laughable. Food took an hour to get out I think I sold something like $1500 in food, and walked away with tips in the low 80s. Never, ever again.
7. Lawyerish | February 20th, 2007 at 7:29 am
I feel like we need to stage an intervention. First the dog track, and now this??
8. Gentry | February 20th, 2007 at 7:33 am
I’m worse than you because I went out with someone who *won* the Daytona 500 and made him let me wear his winner’s Rolex.
9. TwoBusy | February 20th, 2007 at 8:50 am
As great as Gerald Greene and Dwight Howard were, nothing compares to the Charles Barkley/Dick Bavetta footrace.
10. Andrea | February 20th, 2007 at 11:05 am
I don’t watch the NBA because I like college b-ball better, so I might be talking about that when March Madness really kicks it into gear.
I do occasionally watch NASCAR. My husband likes it so it’s on. I get caught up in it, but I don’t have the stamina for the whole race, usually. And according to my husband, 500 is the number of miles, not the number of laps, so I think it was only something like 210 laps. Or whatever. I don’t know. I just know I was pissed off when Junior wrecked inches from the finish line. I guess if they surpass a number of laps, they get points for that race, but if they actually cross the finish line, the points go up even more. Since the end of the season Nextel Cup Champion status is decided on the most points throughout the season, it’s important to finish every race.
How’s that for NASCAR Nerd-dom?
Good luck with the single pet parenting. You know I feel your pain. Good thing you don’t have fish. But I guess fish are only high maintenance when their tank needs to be cleaned, which can probably wait a couple more days. Til Saturday. When Mike comes back. Yeah.
11. the Narcissist | February 20th, 2007 at 2:13 pm
Now with Formula One, you’re talking.
I NEVER fancied myself a motor fan until I watched Formula One. Nascar’s all left turn, left turn, left turn. Formula One is so much more interesting. Especially the Monaco Grande Prix, which I am so going to just to rub shoulders with George Clooney and his ilk.
It’s much more cosmopolitan and far less milwaukee’s best.
12. Amie | February 20th, 2007 at 2:20 pm
Don’t feel bad about the lap question. The Phoenix race is called the Phoenix 500 and they go something like 335 laps. So not a dumb question at all!! I also watched the race and found it very exciting. I went to the Phoenix one last year because my in laws wanted to go and there were hardly any crashes – how boring!
It’s very whiskey tango* but deep down inside I understand it. Don’t we all need to regress sometimes?
*whiskey tango is code for white trash- handy for discussing them when you’re in the middle of them
On a totally unrelated note – I just found out a month ago I’m hypothyroid. How long does it take the meds to kick in? I’m working out everyday, eating a diet put together by a nutritionist and seeing slow results. argh. I’m asking because you seem well researched about the subject and my doctor won’t see me until March.
thanks, Amie
13. Meepers | February 20th, 2007 at 4:09 pm
Yeaaaah! Definitely upgrade to Formula One – For starters, the scenery is WAY WAY better. Next: Hot(ter) European drivers who know about things like wine and cheese, not Natty Ice and deep-fried Twinkies. Secondly, they turn both RIGHT and LEFT, which automatically ups the interest factor. Third: They have a real excuse for being completely impossible to understand in the interviews: English is their second (or third, or fourth) language. An improvement all around, no?
Actually, I’m not a fan of car racing in general, but Ricky Bobby did make me laugh till I cried. Would take Electro-Cat, but our little two keep breaking stuff – they are the nosy/clumsiest ever! Good luck on this coming week.
14. Camper Van Hire | May 16th, 2012 at 5:41 am
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