Tuesday, August 03, 2004

Trackside...

Okay. It’s been what? A week since I last put anything up? Something like that. I feel kind of bad because I know my many readers (Lauren) are probably salivating at the thought of more rantings and I’m here sitting on my thumbs (awkward yet sitting on the arm of a couch interesting at the same time) while you wait for me to post something. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.

I don’t really have anything to “say” as it were, but I still feel the blog must go on. “For the kids,” as The Who would persuade me to do. So without further ado, some random shit for the sake of random shit.

I haven’t heard anyone speculate, on ESPN.com or elsewhere about Smarty Jones' recent retirement and what the real story is. Personally, I think this past year’s triple-crown threat was inspired by close friend Rickey Williams recent retirement. Was it Smarty Jones' “injury” that forced his retirement or is it because he too, wanted to be put out to pasture with all the green grass?

Keeping with the horse racing theme, Ben, Finegan, and myself went to the track Sunday. Nobody made any money, but I almost won on a 23-1 shot losing by half a horse. Fuck Saratoga. I take back all the shit I wrote in CRL about the “ambiance.” The ambiance at Saratoga is summed up in a bunch of people, overdressed for the weather sweating balls. I’m working on a new tagline for the Saratoga…SARATOGA…commercials. Here’s something off the top of my head:

It is now post time
And Party time!
Time for breakfast in a crowded grandstand…
And 6 dollar beers in the scorching sun…
You’ve blown your paycheck…
Now its time to leave…
Saaaratogaaa….SAAARATOGAAA!

Either way, I want to go back next week. I think I’ve developed a gambling problem, but hey, why not go for the triple crown of addiction? One final note on Saratoga: The women are amazing. I could hardly drink my 9 dollar beer while dragging my jaw around all afternoon. And the fucking car show of Benz, Jag, Caddy…Maybe the best I could do was Ben and Mike because I’m driving a 94 Buick and had to park on somebody’s fucking lawn.

Seriously though, what the fuck is Lindsay Lohan doing with Fez? Fuck man, FEZ! I need to get famous fast! I want to be married to and divorced from that girl by 24. Once I’ve got money and a flippin’ sweet ride, I’m going to roll up to Saratoga with LL and bet 100 bucks on every long shot all damn day long. I’ll miss the breakfast on enchanted mornings because I’ll be busy serving Lindsay breakfast in bed.

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