Friday, November 30, 2007
Hondouche
I just remembered why I don’t like Nascar.
I used to think it was the inanity of staring at cars all jammed together and going in a circle. Nothing seemed more inane than staring at circular cars for 9 hours while breathing carbon monoxide.
Then I saw the cities where NASCAR events were held. If I lived there I’d go stare at traffic for entertainment, too.
Now I think it’s the spiky ginormous hair and the pouty blonde hott with perky pokey hello glitterbra.
I’d Dale her Earnhardts with a pit stop to grease my breaks before rotating my Danica Patricks. I don’t know what that means, but I do know that four hundred Lite Beer ads positioned within every corner of my peripheral vision while I stare at a bunch of cars taking a left turn is the anti-boobie.
