Oh, don't get me wrong, we all do. I was just tickled by the thought of going to church the next morning.
Some guys prosthetic leg just fell off while racing a snow mobile in the x-games. He continued racing with the leg in his hand. And with that said I think it is time for Sunday Funday to begin.
apparently eating a Tony's pizza at 4am helps to kill a hangover. Here in Oklahoma we ended up with a pretty nice covering of good, powdery snow. I vaguely remember my roommate tackling girls into the snow, it was pretty fucking hilarious. Thankfully I'm not too hung over, because its almost time to own some bitches in MW2!
This hangover is here to stay today. It doesn't help that everytime I start to drift off to sleep my fucking phone rings. If I could get a solid hour of sleep I'd feel a hundred times better.
You know what's cool? Restaurants that serve bottles of Vodka in a block of ice. It's so efficient, and made for an interesting weekend. I haven't been hungover in months but I guess drinking straight chilled vodka like it's water will do that to you.
My roommate just dropped a deuce that smelled like KFC chicken. It drifted throughout the house. What a fucker.
And with that, my weekend drinking starts. Our race just finished, and we had some minor issues with other drivers hitting us, etc. Needless to say, if a $250k, pristine race car that now looks like this can't motivate you to drink, I don't know what will.
I feel slightly better now. My dad called and woke me up a while ago wanting me to pick him up some tobacco. My sister just picked me up so I could get it for him and to pick up a pizza. Needless to say I stole a few pieces of their pizza and bought myself a gatorade with his money. Finally this headache is starting to fade.
Looks like you should have just given the 250k to children's hospital. The kids would have got more money, and you wouldn't have fucked up your nice new toy.
That just makes too much sense. Racing budgets and charity are the guy's version of whore logic. It validates the insanity.
Friday night I passed out drunk and had an incredibly vivid dream that I picked up a bottle of jameson when I was walking home from the bar. I could even remember walking home with it in a plastic bag and being worried the platic bag was going to break. Needless to say I got up and scoured my entire apartment looking for it. Of course, then I remembered I walked home at 3 am, and it would have been impossible for me to buy whiskey at that hour. I was actually pissed and considered going to get some, because I had gotten myself so excited about it.
You could invest the 250K in the car and, over time, be able to donate a large number of small sums that would enable you to donate more to the charity than simply putting down 250K at once, plus generating revenue for the companies you purchase from and the towns in which you race. On the other hand, a large sum of money in one donation would probably get something named after you in the hospital. The Bullet Racing Cardiac Wing, or something like that. You could make all of the staff on the floor wear lab coats with your logo on it. Great PR.
Really, we're watching this effort snowball on us... our initial up-front costs are getting us exposure, etc., and are helping us to work on future, big-time sponsorship from major corporations. The concept is that the corps pay for the operations of the team, and all public donations/etc go 100% to the Children's Hospital. And the corp gets to be associated with the children's hospital, in a sport that tons of people enjoy. We're already working on that sponsorship for next year, and we very well may do a few more races this year. Up until now, it's been 100% privately funded.
"Hey there, hippie ex." "Oh, hi Ballsack." "I'd like to ask you something." "Sure, go ahead." "Want to get high and have sex?" Then you get her answer, and regardless of what it is, wait until she passes out and raid her purse for a hairbrush.
Drinking wine, watching the Grammys. Surely I can't be the only one. My week of eating bonbons on the couch while watching daytime TV comes to an end tomorrow. I think I only put on real clothes one time all week. Ahhh, good times.