Stupid risks on air, water, and land

I'm going surfing tomorrow come hell or high water! (Or snow or whatever.) I think it'll actually be a decent surf day.

L'Ailee and I love getting ready together because it's a way for us to really talk in a semi-relaxed manner. We even bathe together. (Water conservation is so important. :-) One of us sits on the toilet or bathtub edge while the other puts on her makeup and plucks her eyebrows. Today L'Ailee told me she worries about me when I surf, because I go for bigger waves than she would and I don't seem to care about sharks or wiping out. She's usually sitting on the beach in a big hat and lots of sunscreen, reading and watching me. I just figured she did that because, you know, she does physical work all week and I just sit on my butt in front of a computer all day, and therefore I really need to move on weekends and she really needs to relax. I didn't realize she was actually afraid of some of the stuff in the water, or of drowning in deep water. She acted so embarrassed, but I don't think it makes her a wimp or not-brave to have those fears--they're perfectly rational, and I'm glad someone cares enough about me to be afraid for me.

Water is my element, where I feel perfectly secure and as good as anyone else. As y'all can see from last night's post, I don't always feel that way on terra firma. I get to make all the noise in my brain shut up and just *be* for a while. L'Ailee feels the same way, but her element is air. What makes her feel good is cartwheels and backflips and throwing herself around on whatever equipment is handy. I have the hardest time watching when she decides to eschew the safe(-ish) gymnastics equipment designed for these things and flips end-over-end on the rafters instead. I worry about her, and yet I know she knows what she's doing and that the way she's feeling at that very moment is worth the risk. This morning, she was particularly exuberant, and expressed it by dancing on the couch and the coffee table and doing backflips off the chair. She looked so very cute and happy. But she has five classes on Fridays; I worried that she was going to wear herself out before the day even started. She smirked and said, "Thank you for worrying." I think I'll try that line this weekend.

Another thing I'm going to do this weekend is....DAYTONA 500!!! Oh, I'm so happy NASCAR's back! I was in such withdrawal for a month after the 2005 season ended. Once again people are going to be at my house drinking my beer, eating my food, and slagging my driver. Once again I'm going to try very hard not to be too blatant about my desire to take Tony Stewart on the hood of his car. Once again we're going to hear how the car and the team was awesome, but the luck was just bad. Can't wait!!!

Just in time for the 500, the Onion published something that made me wonder whether I should laugh or cry or holler, "Dude, that's *sick* and *wrong*!" I guess that's what good satire's supposed to make you do, though.

Lastly, the funniest and least socially responsible Orlando Sentinel writers suggested a NASCAR drinking game. You know NASCAR's getting less redneck if there are NASCAR parties in Daytona gay clubs and I have Russians and Canadians and other LGB people at my house watching it. However, you can't take the redneck out of the sport entirely, as the rules for this game show.

someone sporting a Richard Petty cowboy hat, glasses or mustache. (one for each of these Petty crimes)
a woman in Daisy Dukes -- twice if she looks more like Boss Hogg.
a beer belly painted with a number -- twice if it's a 3 ... for Dale.
a confederate flag on top of an RV (better have a case of beer).
a fan wearing a jacket with more than six sponsor logos.
a barbecue on top of an RV.
a person holding the left hand to his/her chest during the National Anthem.
a fan holding a bed sheet with a bad pun spray-painted on it.
a racer running from a flaming vehicle.
a fan sporting either a NASCAR-themed tattoo, a case of beer as a hat, or a mullet.
(Be ready for an extreme hangover.)

I don't actually advise doing this, unless you want to go to the ER for alcohol poisoning before they say "Gentlemen, start your engines!"