So, rumor has it there was a little holiday over the weekend?
Something to do with hearts and chocolate-covered cherries and champagne?
Really? I am sorry. I totally missed it. I was too busy watching supercharged super-huge superfuckingcool M0NSTER TRUCKS rock the local arena on Saturday to really notice.
That’s right, nothing like sitting next to your 6 year old nephew watching three-thousand pound machines of MASS DESTRUCTI0N spittin’ dirt and crushin’ cars to BL0W AWAY any preconceived notions of how one should spend February the 1-4.
Watching the nephew having a blast was really the best part of the whole deal (even though I am a bad Aunt for buying the ridiculously sugared and probably toxic blue-dyed snow cone that stained his entire mouth for hours). But gee-golly-whiz we had fun. Best parts other than the balls-to-the-wall machine mayhem included…
Bunch of wigged-out guys driving qu@ds at warp-speed inches away from each other around a tiny-track: pretty cool.
Bunch of wigged-out 17 year olds hitting ramps on their dirt b1kes flying through the air, throwing their limbs all over the place forty feet above ground, busting out de@th-defying w1cked tricks: awesome.
But really, watching the TW0-ST0RY-FIRE-BREATHING-TRANSF0RMING R0B0T eat the ’77 Cadillac?
Best V-Day Ever.
I know. You totally want to date me.
Maybe next year, if you’re lucky, I’ll buy you the toxic snow cone at the M0NSTER TRUCK show.
Because I am just that goddamn romantic.