Pert, Thing 3 and I will leave for La Maison de Gock on Saturday morning, full of piss and vinegar. We'll stop and urinate at the first gas station, leaving only vinegar, which we'll probably use on a side salad with our Sonny's ribs that we get as we're driving through KY. (Who the hell am I kidding? We won't get salad.)
Before we get there, I intend to stop at one of Crazy Moe's Fireworks emporiums in Tennessee in preparation for the Codependence Week festivities. They'll probably be open on Memorial Day on the trip back down, but why take a chance?
We'll probably stop at a store when we get close and pick up a bunch of meat for cookin', chicken for takin', and beer for drinkin'.
I'm somewhat inclined to pull a little for the chick. That will no doubt subside when I hear the squeals associated with each mention of her name on race day. That will leave me with our best Buddy Lazier (you know, cause it rhymes with "brassiere") as my favorite.
Word on the street is that the estimable Jo Jo Gunne may be able to join us. I sure hope that can happen!
5 comments:
Depressing note of the day: If one wishes to get information about the Indy 500 from Sports Illustrated's web site, the race falls under the "NASCAR" category, as they don't have one for general motor sports.
Sheesh. I oughta write a letter...
You wouldn't really eat them dogs, would ja? (Don't make me pull one a my cryin'-jag episodes.)
Sports Illustrated blows anyway, nothing but pretty pictures and sky high cover price.
The Indy 500 slays "NASCAR." Formula One versus a rainbow colored Chevy Monte Carlo. Cmon!
On the other hand, "NASCAR" does have "Dick Trickle."
Have fun, but not the kinda fun those other guys are havin´.
Back off, Junior! He can get whatever kinda lovin' he wants...
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