Gentlemen, start your engines

What a weekend! I received a call from my Uncle the other day about some tickets to a NASCAR truck event Friday night. He explained that they were free (my favorite kind) and really good seats; they had a 4 day package. Not a lot of people know this, but I do not like NASCAR. For the pure and simple fact that it is just cars going in a circle and sometimes they crash. I like to watch ESPN 11pm highlight reel and see the crashes with out the non-sense. Well, I had nothing else to do and my Uncle and his friend are always able to keep me entertained.

Meet up for the races on Friday night and my Uncles friend picked us up. As, I was getting in the back seat of the truck, I watched something magical happen: 2 grown ass men well over 50, calling each other cock-suckers and punching and general tom-foolery that is reserved well, more for my age group. This assured me that no matter how old I get, when my friends and I get together for an event, we can still act like ass-holes. The ride over I couldn’t stop laughing! My Uncles friend Johnny looks and sounds like Joe Pesci with white hair. We covered everything from whose gotten married to who’s and asshole. A few references to cock-sucking and titties later, we arrived.

I was warned that our seats were way up at the very top of the track, but what they should have said to me is that I would require a Sherpa to reach my destination. I seriously knocked down 2 tall boys on my way up the stairs. Get to the our destination and low and behold, I’m sitting next to a huge dude! Seriously, he took up his chair and half of mine. I had to stand for most of the race. Pounded down a few more tall boys and everything got better. Looking around the sea of Real Tree Camouflage and high tech rednecks, I was reminded that there are still people out there that believe the south will rise again. If you have ever thought to yourself, “self, we really are not as fashion contentious as we could be,” go to a NASCAR event; you will never doubt yourself again. HA! I saw a guy with a big red number 8 tattooed on his arm, what an ass! The driver that he liked enough to get the number tattooed, now has a different number. Rolled through the rest of the night and had a great time, despite the fatty Mc Lardass taking up my chair.

Those blurs are the trucks going about 200mph

Those blurs are the trucks going about 200mph

So, the big V-day rolled around and me and my hot date got a little kinky. Thats right, the little blonde tattooed hispanic girl let loose on my arm with her magic machine. Yep, her and I had a hot date to drill on my inner bicep and armpit. 3 hours of line work later and this was the present she gave me:

This did not feel very good

This did not feel very good

He is a different prospective:

a little sore still

a little sore still

So, to cap things off my Uncle called me on Saturday to say that when they went to the races that afternoon, he ran into that big ass dude. He said that guy was complaining that he could not see the race because I was standing damn near the whole time. What a dick, if he wasn’t such a fat ass I would have been able to sit down. Oh well, my girl has brought a smile to my face.

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6 Comments

Filed under Tattoos

6 responses to “Gentlemen, start your engines

  1. k8

    You got your kink on for VD! Way to go! And I went to a Monster Truck Rally when I lived in NC. Yeah. Heritage Not Hate and all that.

    I did get my kink on! Yea, the whole “south is gonna rise again” people should really do us a favor and move further south to like Nicaragua. I really cannot stand that mentality.

  2. I’ve seen grown men light firecrackers out of there ass at NASCAR events. It’s one huge party all.day.long.

    Lol, the weird thing is I have seen that too!

  3. and by ‘there’ i meant ‘their’

    All sins are forgiven.

  4. Fuckin love the ink. I hate to think how much that hurt. I assume it felt a lot like that papercut I got this weekend.

    And normally you would have the upper hand against rednecks but you were on their turf that night. Thats what the camo is for.
    I achieved new levels of pain with this one. Usually I blend in with the “necks” but this time I was outnumbered.

  5. Ouch.

    Yea, still a little sore.

  6. I just realized you are from the Redneck Riviera…
    sweet jeesus.

    I grew up in LA (lower Alabama ie. Destin)
    went to school in Gainesville (if you can call it that)
    and partied it up in Ybor city…back in the day…

    Oh yea! Smack dab in Honkey country! I am trying to relocate though.

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