NASCAR fans, new slogans, Happiness

Sunday, Oct. 15, 2006, 11:47 p.m.

Last night, I found myself in a place that I never, except in the strangest and most widely-disregarded areas of my imagination, thought I'd be: on the main track of a NASCAR speedway, moments before the start of an actual NASCAR race, snapping photos of the drivers' butts.

Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration -- I only took a picture of one of the drivers' butt. It was so photogenic that I'm counting it twice. But the rest of what I said was fully true.

Although I was there primarily to cover the Military Appreciation portion of the day's events for our post newspaper, I found plenty of time and ways to entertain myself at the track when I wasn't interviewing soldiers and seeking out huffable gases. For instance, I could hang out at the media center with all the real reporters. Or, I could wander around with my camera, counting the number of times I heard the phrase "Git 'er done!" Or I could be That Girl on the race track who had no idea who any of the drivers were. I am a skilled multi-tasker, so I managed to do all three, while still fitting into my busy schedule the purchase of a $3, 16-ounce soda and a $7 lanyard on which to hang my press credentials. You see? SKILLZ.

The day went well, excluding the bus trips up to North Carolina and back (no rest stops = WHY, GOD, WHY?!) and the intense micromanagement of my head boss, who luckily seems to have a problem perceiving the fact that I desire to transport him to an alternate dimension in the most painful way possible.

Anyway, there was one thing at the racetrack that I found to be a bit surprising, and that was the shockingly small number of doubletake-inducing rednecks. I mean, there were plenty of your run-of-the-mill, camouflage-clad, tobacco-chewing, y'all-drawlin' Rebs, but none of the spectacular, stereotypically hickdafied crowd I'd come to expect at a NASCAR race in North Caroline.

I do, however, have a theory or two about why this is. Firstly: I have been living in the Dirty South for far too long, and am now so accustomed to the sight of an "average" redneck that when an exceptionally unaverage one happens along, I miss it. Secondly: My staggering hangover blinded my eyes to any individual who I wasn't required by law or direct order to acknowledge at that point in time.

Yes, it may have been foolish for me to have gone to a party the night before the race, knowing I'd have to be awake at about a quarter till Too Damn Early, but you have to understand not only that a) this was a costume party, but b) I had probably the awesomest costume ever, and c) that segue I just now made was pretty damn smoove.

I hadn't even been planning to attend the costume party, honestly. I had been planning to stay in, get a good night's sleep, and board the bus to Charlotte feeling well-rested, well-hydrated, and not at all like there was a dead thing nesting atop my tongue. That plan, unfortunately, was squashed when my roommate asked me to come along with her to Wal-Fart to pick up an accessory for her costume and I came upon this:

Yarrr!

And my fate was sealed. I would post all the other pictures in here, but I'm getting kind of tired and it's easier to simply give you this dandy link so that you can see all of the TOTALLY NON-HORRIFYING costumes that my friends put together, plus a few more of me in all my pirate-ish splendor.

Phrases actually uttered during the course of the evening included:

"I was going to dress as a geisha, but I didn't want to paint my face white, so I decided to just go as an Asian whore."

and

"Dude, you can really rock some fishnets."

In case you haven't heard, the Army recently came up with a new slogan to replace the mildly inspiring, often-misinterpreted "Army of One" motto that we've had for the last several years. Apparently, the Army hired a civilian marketing firm to come up with something better.

Something like $200 million later, "Army Strong" is our new motto.

I'm sorry, but can I buy a verb? An indefinite article, maybe? How about an ounce of dignity?

Seriously, how did the "Be All You Can Be" branch of the military become the "We Have No Grasp Of Grammar" branch? When reciting the Army motto, the next thought that comes to my head should not be "HULK SMASH!" and I should not sound as though I am a few short steps away from the short bus.

As a civilian who works in my office put it, "The way it's going, the next slogan will be simply 'DUUUUUUH.'"

I actually wrote an entire commentary regarding my thoughts on the "Army Strong" campaign, but it is currently being censored by The Man. If I can't get it into print this week, I'll post it for you guys ... even though I won't be getting paid $100 million per word, unlike some people I know.

A few quick things before I fall asleep ...

1. Have you seen Happiness? My editor suggested, nay, insisted that this was a movie that you couldn't just rent -- you have to own it. He then added, "I like to watch it with people I'm meeting for the first time."
That said, if you would like to spend two hours feeling dirty inside, I highly recommend this film.

2. Flavor of Love is the greatest show on television, despite the fact that it's now run for two seasons has caused me to lose faith in the majority of humanity.

3. Read this book with the quickness.

4. As of October 19, I will have six months before my terminal leave from the Army begins. In those six months, I have to decide where I will want to live when I get out, what I want to do, and how I want to do it. Discuss. (Suggestions are welcome.)