Bonding is in the air. The glorious day approacheth, and I am all steamed up.
Valentine's Day? NO! Now is the time I was hoping Rankin' Rob would call me, and tell me he has sweet-assed tickets to the Daytona 500. Then he would crash at the Velocihovel the night before, we would swap war stories, engage in spree drinking, and attend the Big Race. Then relive the Race in all its glory for the benefit of my couldn't care less family the next day. That's what swinging dicks do.
I know you have tickets, Rob. You are a personality. A celebrity. AND a grifter. Liquor and strippers are on me. I'll buy you a tattoo! Everyone needs Sterling Marlin's number emblazoned upon the back of their skull.
Hey: they're just family! They'll be there when you get back! Time to step up to the plate, swamee.
That's what my husband wanted to get me for Valentine's Day..hell yeah!
Posted by: Kelly at February 8, 2006 6:36 AMChariots of the God's? I think the answer must be yes.
Never has there been a more divinely inspired sport. Any event that allows coolers filled with the libation of your choice must be sent from the great "I Am"
Posted by: bedamned at February 8, 2006 7:56 AMNot this year, but possibly next. Quaffing GnT's and heckling as Kurt Busch hurtles into the infield, end over end, digging in and finally launching into the lake. NASCAR's equivalent of The Indianapolis.
You do live within driving distance don't you? See you in Feb 2007.
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Posted by: eman at August 18, 2006 5:27 AM