I got back from the steak house tonight. I sat by a fella that is from the Bronx. He speaks spanish. Well he speaks English better but his profession requires a little more language control from south of the border than does mine. I just have to learn how to interpret Indian English. Any way, I made two passes from the court by my drag racin’ speedometer tonight. I hit 36 the first time, and 35 the next.
See… they’re baitin’ me. They know no RedNeck worth hsi weight in Red could pass that up. Bastid’s… It’s about 11:00 PM ish now, but tormorrow, if/when I head to the waffle house, I’ll try to do 37… I’m wrong, I know, but I’m built that way. I can’t stand a challenge that I can’t challenge. Plus, peeps are going to be sleeping in tomorrow morning. If I break 40, I’m gonna brag to the ol’ timers a the Waffle House, Ken, and Dave, about it.
Of course, that’s all assuming I drag my ass out of bed tomorrow at a unreasonable hour. It isn’t usually a problem. When you got to pee, you got to pee. It’s the tingle that jingles.
This dude, I talked about above, he’s loaded, he was tryin’ to get me to go out to bars with him tonight. WTF, it’s rookie hour. I’m goin’ to bed. Plus he was wantin’ to carry me to bars like “Martini Party”, or “Scotch and Soda”. When did people get so bored they started namin’ their bars after drinks. Whats up with that?
I did feel pretty good at the steak house though. Heard about 13 “Hey Trouble’s” as food was bein’ brought out as I sat at the bar. I’m a skinnier “Norm”, in a RedNeck Cheers…
I’d rather be a boy named Sioux…
She named me Dale Darrell Waltrip Richard Petty Rusty Awesome Bill Irvin Gordon Earnhardt Smith…Johnson, Jr.
I guess you could say Momma was a NASCAR fan,
I was born in Talladega up in the stands.
The fans all cheered the second I arrived,
the loudspeaker said “The boy’s born to drive!”
We didn’t have money for a pacifier,
so I sucked on the valve off a Goodyear tire…
a seven pound, eight ounce, son-of-the-south
born with a taste for racin’ in my mouth.
She named me Dale Darrell Waltrip Richard Petty Rusty Awesome Bill Irvin Gordon Earnhardt Smith…Johnson, Jr.
I got my first real stock-car when I was nine,
an old one Momma bought off of Jeff Bodine.
The Winston Cup people said “The boy’s too young”…
’till I qualified second at Darlington.
How in the world could a nine-year-old child
hit 197 in a time trial?
The man said Momma ought to be ashamed…
“but by the way son, tell us what’s your name”?
I told ‘em Dale Darrell Waltrip Richard Petty Rusty Awesome Bill Irvin Gordon Earnhardt Smith…Johnson, Jr.
I got a “Toys-R-Us” sponsor and a new pit-crew.
Daytona loves “Little 52″
The junior-high-school girls are all cheerin’ for me.
I’m out there intimidatin’ “Number 3″
But I ain’t got room on my cards, or my caps, or the helmet I’m drivin’ with…
to write Dale Darrell Waltrip Richard Petty Rusty Awesome Bill Irvin Gordon Earnhardt Smith…Johnson, Jr.
My blodge didn’t even recognize me…
And since tomorrow’s Monday, my birthday, I’m thinkin’ about trying to pull off the following:
I must still be drunk from last night…
I think somebody ought to check and see if there’s a Doctor in the house for the Doctor.
What’s next? Is Britney gonna pole dance for him?
Did I see Jimmy Johnson in that clip? Aw fuckit, I can’t take it anymore.
Now dig up y’all… especially you gw8 weeda.. you sport a bad assed clean freakin’ garden, nuke daisies and all…
I’ve blasted this stuff out the windows of a ‘72 Caprice Classic and and 72 Chevelle(both probably 8-track), before I wrecked it at the drag strip… but that’s another story.
Don’t get religious on me… Hell, I was 17 or 18… but it sounded good to me.
Maybe T1G will get it, or maybe everyone’s pal bitterman will… Hell, who knows, maybe nobody will.
I couldn’t ‘rover the band.. had to rely on “myspace”… That sucks. They(The Godz) must’ve hit it big.
Godz are rock n roll machines… yeah, now that I’m older, I’m waitin’ on Jesus’s Country and Western machines… but that Godz song does put a pep in my step.
PS: If you’ve never wrecked you car at the drag strip with you dog and your tool box in the back seat, … you ain’t lived.
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