Can Sundays Be Disjointed?
The Awards Banquet was mildly disappointing, but having good friends to hang out with makes it all better. I've heard a few people b!tching about the food, but hey, it's down-home all-American cookout Hamburgers and Hotdogs, what's not to like about that? If I'd ended up sittin' at any other table, I might be more inclined to bitch about things, but I just can't be too unhappy about the deal after spending a lovely evening with good people. When it comes right down to it, the people make the experience -- it's not about the stuff. The Twenty Car Folks and The Thirty Car Folks have parkin' together in the pits and sittin' together at banquets as long as either of 'em's been at Mid-America; I'm comfy with 'em, just like family -- We had a great time together.
The track screwed up my last name. Again. It's on top of the car in foot-tall letters, it's on the side of my trailer in the same foot-tall letters, it's on all my paperwork... But the L and the E throw everybody off, I guess. Oh well -- it's not much of anything new, it's been happenin' for twenty-nine years.
My folks are comin' today to haul Clay's Great Red Hunter back to Sperry and see about fixin' the Deer Damage. As Clay reads over my shoulder as I type, he says "Heyyy, 'Deer Damage,' capitalized, that sounds like a band name!" Heh heh... Yeah, I guess it does. They'll probably be at that punk festival with Pot Roast and Pet Sidewinder.
Okay, now where was I goin' with that? Oh yeah... This'll only be the second time (in the year-plus-a-few-months that Clay and I have been together) that they've been to Clay's house. They came to Dave's house once (but didn't stay 'cause he was fryin' Deer Meat). That makes three times in all these years of dating that they've been to a "Debbie's Boyfriend's House." What's that tell ya? Yeah... Clay's so very in. My parents Love him.
He just left with My Car, so I guess that means he's pretty in with me too -- y'all know what an up-tight nut-job I am about that car -- and if anything happens to it, whatever happens had better be covered by some kind of big-money insurance, 'cause if I can't have my SHO, I want a Powerstroke Excursion. Or maybe a big Black Crew-Cab. Or maybe I'd just drive the little white ragtop 'til Dodge starts sellin' that new Challenger -- even though I'd never hear the end of it from the ol' man...
Anyhow, there's a post for Sunday, and I still haven't missed any!