Monday, June 21, 2010

Another Coming Out Moment Monday

Here it is, I'll come out of the closet yet once again but on something kinda new (which i've partially done on my blog and in comments I've left on other blogs). I work on a race car team. A rrrrrace car team. That's it. There it is. I said it. But that's as far as I can go without identifying myself. Racing is it's own little WWW, yes you guessed right it's a weird-weird-world. Race fans are part of this weird-weird-world, they're probably what makes it weird in fact. Not you Holly, you don't seem to fit into the picture I have of race fans...

You know what else is weird? Drivers' wives. Drivers' wives are weird in a way. To sum it up I'd like to quote the oh-so-close-to--reality-and-behind-the-scenes movie Talladega Nights: "Ahm a driver's wafe. A - DON'T - WORK!"  Driver's wives are a rare breed of women who've managed to make it be a career, THEIR career by simply being a wife to somebody famous. I suspect wives of pro ball players, golfers, bowlers, lawn dart throwers, lawn mower racers etc. are all the same.  They're not housewives, they're driver's wives.

This is the reason why I need and obsess to keep my personal identity private. Like Jules who shares stupid ass student stories, I may want to share crazy wives stories, I may want to share crazy fan stories (saying crazy here is not necessary, fan stories are usually laced with obsessive craze). I may want to share horny driver stories (once again is the adjective "horny" necessary? all men end up being a driver so they can get laid, it's a simple fact, as simple as: throw a ball up, it comes down). And especially, I had too many fans reading my "other" blog and coming up to me at races talking to me, approaching me by MY name, commenting on personal tidbits of my life "So is your sister better?" making me stop and ask myself "Self, do I know this person?" It just got out of hand. It had to stop. And the censorship made the blog too bland and booooring.

Although...  Although I did appreciate having MY very own superfan who found my work address via our team website and regularly mailed me Red Lobster gift cards after I blogged about going there and being frustrated that they removed the lobster chops from their menu...  *sigh*  ...lobster chops, mmmm, grilled lobster tails with grilled scallops on a skewer... mmmmmm.

I hated that I couldn't share the juicy stuff. You know like how a (married) friend of mine paid $350 at the strippers so he could get a blow job? $350. Three hundred and fifty dollars. THAT was an awesome story because the whole time it was happening, he was gone forever, we thought he'd been kidnapped or ran away with a new dish. This event solidified my saying (which I proudly created) "What happens on a rain-out, stays on a rain-out."  A rain-out to racers is like a full moon to werewolves. It derives from the fact that we all share the same chemical imbalance which is instantly triggered by the first drop of rain under the thunder of hoards of motors seeping an overwhelming amount of collective horsepower all roaring to go but held back like a newly captured pack of wild lions in a circus cage. We go crazy on a rain-out night. It's awesome!

Yes. This is my life. I am a girl, not a trucker type girl of any means. I love weird artsy Sundance type movies, music I can't understand the words to, reading poetry, listening to Tosh, wearing billy boots with shorts and jumping in water puddles, studied art and cultural sciences at the university, don't go to church but believe in praying, paint my toe nails red, still play with toys especially stuffed puppy toys until I can get a dog of my own, can ride a unicycle but was always never picked in gym class, have no mechanical background, donate regularly to charity, pick up trash I see on the ground carelessly left behind by others, never even saw a race before coming out here (unless you include my ski races or swim meets...) am a race car mechanic.

Ooof, wow, glad I got THAT off my slightly flat chest! Sports bra make you appear flat... did you know that? My friends always freak when they suddenly see me in non work gear with a normal bra.


  1. That is so cool! Please tell me its not for one of the Bush brothers. NO... dont tell me, but if it is will you do me 1 small favor?
    Walk up to them/him kick him/them squarely between the legs with cockroach killers pointy boots and tell them Holly sent ya! They'll/he will know what that means. =]

  2. Can't wait for some more of the juicy stories. My former employers tried to start a race team -- even the wife of the driver they hired (who, btw, wrecked during the first and only race they ran) had an attitude.

  3. Do you know what I could get with $350? Really? Damn, I need $350.

  4. @ Holly: have no fear, the only bush in my team is inside my undies (heh heh heh)
    @ Amanda: I have stories,,, just have to decide on how far I can really go... kinda scary, these are people I really do like and care for, don't want to harm anybody, and I'm sure she had all the right attitude, even if it was an unknown driver, I still don't get it!
    @ KLZ: I know $350 for a BJ???? wtf! I'd be RICH if I knew it was worth that much... man, and all I cost is 2 beers... Too late now though, I'm married, AND in love. $350 can go a loooooong way!

  5. Oh Lord....Your stories and my stories go hand in hand........


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