Monday is for drooling.

Well, I had every intention of writing a nice, long NASCAR recap yesterday. I even took notes at the race and brought them with me to the office. But I started to write and nothing was happening. The synapses in my brain just weren't firing. Apparently following up an entire day of drinking in the sun with only a marginally good night of sleep will make you retarded. If only temporarily.

Saturday morning I was Robert. I didn't go out Friday night, I did my laundry, I went to bed early, I had a somewhat nice breakfast (never order lox at Einstein Brothers, by the way) in the morning, I felt like a million bucks. Then at around 4:00, as we approached Ft. Worth, the boozing started. And so my IQ began its slow decline into single digits. By Saturday night I was Tyra Banks. By Sunday afternoon I was Paris Hilton. By Sunday night I was Muhammad Ali. By Monday morning I was Terri Shiavo. So it's probably not a bad thing that no blog was posted yesterday.

However, there is a NASCAR posting coming. I promise. Hell, I took notes. I have to, right? The following things will play a part in the eventual posting: Beer, tequila, Slim Jim, Waffle House, cheese-on-a-stick, handlebar moustache, Country Music Television, Charlie Daniels, the phrase "Jesus is my crew chief" and (of course) race cars. Wow. I may cut and paste that sentence and include it in my letter to Santa.