Now, let me digress a little. I'm not a big fan of dirt track racing. I'm not a big fan of any form of televised auto racing, except maybe drag racing and Rally races. But when I do go to the races, I wanna see wrecks. I wanna see shit blowing up and wheels flying around. I wanna see twisted sheet metal and shattered dreams. I wanna see blood and sweat and suffering. George Carlin said it the best when he said "...I don't care about a bunch of redneck jackoffs driving 500 miles around in a circle. Five-hundred miles in a circle. Children can do that. Doesn't impress me..." I couldn't agree with you more George. I'm also glad that Dale Earnhardt died. I don't have anything personal aganist him or his family, but the guy was a real asshole. I feel more sorry for that Petty guy who died a lot more than dang ol' Dale. If I rooted for anyone in NASCAR, I'd go with Jeff Gordon, just becasue he's a clean cut northeren pretty boy and all the other redneck shitstains hate him.

Now, back to my story. I paid $16 to get into the pits, which is about $15.75 more I'd be willing to pay, but a few people I know were going to be in there. I seen the girl that I work with and talked to her for about 5 minutes before she and a couple of her friends left for a party. I would of asked if I could go with them, but one of the people she was leaving with was her boyfriends sister, and I don't think her family would approve of me getting all drunk and flirting with her. And besides, I know I'm hardly Count Class-ula from Classy-vania, but do I really want to spend my time drinking Busch Light and listening to shitkicker music? I'm more of a Miller High Life and classic rock fan. After they left, I went over and talked to Mike and Tyler for a while. They won 10th in the season. We all went back into the stands where I talked with a few more people for about an hour. After that I left to go to Wilton Founder's day.

Wilton Founder's day is just your average small town festival. You can eat food with enough saturated fat to clog a cast iron sewer pipe, pay $30 to win posters and pictures that were popular in the late 1980's, and go on rides that look like they were made in the early 1970's. Also, there's a oriental food stand that sells fried rice, greasy eggrolls and wontons, and 'steak' sticks. Let me tell you, that shit's good, but those 'steak' sticks sure as hell doesn't taste like any steak I've ever eaten before. And those oriental people are open long after all the other carnies have shut down for the night, and they always have their stand right next to the entrance of the beer tent. Like them or loath them, oriental people always know what's going on. Before I went into the beer tent, (which only has 2 small tents, the rest of it is fenced off in the middle of the street), I went home to have a few because there is no way in hell I'm going to pay $2 for a fucking can of beer unless I'm warmed up. You don't actually pay for the beer, you buy tickets and take your tickets up to the stand where they serve. You could buy six tickets for $10, but I cringe whenever I think about paying $10 for a six pack. They had Miller Lite, Coors Light (rich man's Busch Light), and Mike's Hard Lemonade (sissy drink for sissies). The beer only cost one ticket, but a 16 ounce bottle of Mike's Hard Lemonade cost two tickets. I feel sorry for the ladies and pillow biters drinking that shit. For four dollars and some change you could buy a six pack of Miller High Life bottles. I was only there for about an half hour before they shut down the beer tent at one. Most people go home, but us seasoned drinkers (read: drunk as a skunk) went to The Wooden Nickel.

Let me digress again. There are three bars in Wilton, The Junction Bar and Grill, Shontzy's Wooden Nickel, and Pauly's Bar. The Junction Bar and Grill is a classy place. I got Steve the bartender to start carrying Miller High Life. The Junction is an actual resturant with a bar on the right side. Food is served at the Wooden Nickel, but they just serve hamburgers and fried shit, like a bowling alley. The Junction serves prime rib and baked fish and stuff like that. It's a classy place, but it gets expensive after happy hour, so when I'm out drinking I go down to the Nickel. The Nickel is your average small town bar, not an absolute shithole but not a place you'd read about in the soceity page. At the Nickel they also have bands and karaoke sometimes. The owner, Ward Shontzy, is a pretty classy guy too. Now Pauly's, I've never been there but I don't want to. The propriter of Pauly's, who my friend Nick likes to refer to "Pauly Snot-and-Puke", is a REAL dandy. He's about six foot tall, 240 to 250, wears black framed glasses and talks in a loud gurgly smokers voice. In short, he looks like Buddy Holly after the plane crash. Pauly is the only person in Wilton who can get away with doing a farmer's blow in front of city hall and smoking in the local grocery store. Pauly can be found most nights hanging out at the Nickel. Now, I don't have a degree in business management, but I don't think it's a good idea to spent your money at the compitition. If I owned a Mcdonals I wouldn't eat at Hardees and Burger King.

Now, back to my story. After the beer tent all of us soakers went to the Nickel, where I drank a bit more. That night, The Nickel looked like the bar from "Star Wars". It was packed. Some guy sitting next to me said he was "loaded like a freight train", when I replied "Flying like an airplane, feeling like space brain one more time tonight." Nothing much else happend at the Nickel, so at closing I went home and went to sleep (read:passed out). And that's my story. Next week I might write about how utterly creepy I get when I drink Thunderbird or Night Train, or about the beach, or State Wrestling, or maybe I write about somthing totally unrealated. Who Knows?