I can't even explain the insanity that has been the last two months -- but I will share one of the high spots of it: seeing the Nextel Cup race at Loudon in September! I know this is totally out-o####ate at this point, but I wanted to share while I waited for the pre-race shenanigans for Charlotte. Hope you guys enjoy!

Written on Sept 17th in my personal journal, at approximately 10pm Eastern. Republishing here to share! Warning: Much fangirl gleefulness and caps-lock abuse.

THE TWO-ZERO: We witnessed Tony F'ing Stewart pass 30 cars on the track that people say is the hardest one to pass on in the series. In person. Like, was there, still have soot and #### under my fingernails and have a sunburn on my right side and a filthy orange polo shirt in my hamper. My 20 seatbelt-style belt is on the bedroom floor and I am sitting here in my bathrobe still smelling of exhaust and feeling like today lasted three days and only three minutes, alternately.

I honestly can't even parse the race. It was that awesome. It was the best first live race experience I could have asked for.

PROOF: I sat in the sun, all day, with my husband, and we drank beers in orange 20 car koozies and ate sandwiches and pretzels and french fries and I smoked almost an entire pack of the expensive cigarettes and jumped up and sat down and flailed around and put on sunscreen and listened to the scanner (cackled when Junior ground out with a "this is #### ridiculous!" on one of his pit stops, and drew hearts in the air when Zippy told Tony "don't overdrive now, you'll get him," when he was trying to get past Burton).

It was amazing. AMAZING. I can't even explain why it was so great, but it was, and we're totally doing it again, and I'm completely hooked for life. LIFE. Just deal, f'list.

How did this take me so long? OH NASCAR, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!

PEANUT GALLERY (Random highlights from the Race of Awesomecross):

• Buying the cutest polo shirt in the world for only $15.
• Taking a picture next to the 20 bus with both index fingers up. Equals 11. Get it?
• The Husband refusing to wear the Stewart muscle shirt I bought him accidentally.
• Me racing underneath the stands and finding the Biffle merch bus and buying him a normal tee-shirt, like, with sleeves.
• The wave. MANY MANY MANY TIMES. Also, the stands are metal, so the stamping was awesome. Also also, our side was the insane side, who kept starting the wave and being rowdy, and the grand stands were full with ####s who were cranky about paying too much money for seats, because almost every single time the wave died with them. COME ON, PEOPLE!
• JOHN #### MCCAIN! No joke, he was the special guest. IT WAS AWESOME. Almost as awesome as whatshisbucket asking him to please, please, please run for president. I LOVE NEW ENGLAND!
• The entire raceway losing power during driver introductions.
• But not before we cheered for Maaaahk Maaahhhhtin during his drive-around.
• But right after we booed the people who booed Tony during his drive-around. And then cheered for Tony, of course.
• Tony was totally beef noodle hearty all over the place. I JUST WANTED TO HUG HIM AND FEEL HIM SQUISH!
• There was no national anthem. Or invocation. And I had to hear "Gentleman, start your engines," from my scanner headset. Which, yes, was kind of the suck. BUT! No terrible "Star Spangled Banner" sung by a B-list pop star!
• THE CARS WERE REALLY SHINY.
• AND LOUD.
• I took out my ear plugs for the beginning, like everyone done told me to do, and I almost cried with the sheer joy of it. They all have voices, I swear, and now I'm going to stop, because I refuse to animate an inanimate object.
• But. But, but, but, just one thing: Tony's engine sounds different than all the others. It's like a muscle car. ON COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF DOPE. Totally throaty and meaty and just beef noodle hearty. Oh, man, I love it.
• KYLE BUSCH WENT INTO THE WALL ONE SECTION DOWN FROM US!
• Everyone cheered when that happened. IT WAS AWESOME!
• Bobby Labonte GOING THE WRONG WAY DOWN TURN ONE! What is he, insane? I DUNNO, BUT IT WAS AWESOME.
• Except for Labonte, all of the other crashes and dust-ups were pretty much RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. Also, Kevin did his burnout in our area, too, as the finish line was all ####ked up by the crash.
• Tony stuck his line through almost every single 3-4 turn. I was seriously impressed.
• There were SO many Junior fans. And so many Tony fans. It was a sea of RED and ORANGE all day, seriously.
• The track cams are actually operated by HUMAN BEINGS. I was seriously impressed by this! No, seriously! I thought they used the tracking devices in the cars to program the cameras remotely. THERE WAS A MAN ON THE FIELD DOING IT UP! It was awesome.
• Tony shouts "DIG DIG DIG DIG DIG!" right before they release his car from a pit stop. I find this ridiculously endearing. HE DOES IT EVERY TIME.
  
• TONY TOTALLY SPANKING JEFF GORDON ON THE OUTSIDE OF TURN FOUR! The outside! AT LOUDON! Give that man a cookie. And a Coke. And maybe a slice of pizza.
• Jimmie Johnson's FORCE OF WILL. I mean, seriously, it was crazy to see his car WITH NO HOOD.
• Kyle Busch is a tool, but I have to give him points for coming back out with half a car. I mean, if Jimmie can do it, Kyle should, too.
• TONY TOTALLY SPANKING JEFF BURTON. MULTIPLE TIMES.
• I think it's really stupid there is a 1 car and an 01 car. WTF?! Leading zeroes are lame, and suck in life and database construction.
• The Husband totally enjoyed himself. We're already discussing next year's race. I am ridiculously happy about this -- mostly because he's cute when he's excited. Also, because it's always good to enjoy NASCAR with the ones you love.
• DID I MENTION I DRANK BEERS IN THE SUN IN MY ORANGE TONY STEWART KOOZIE?
• I took my headset and ear plugs out in the middle and just LISTENED. It was a symphony of metal and determination.
• The last five laps were a daze. I was shaking, jittering around, screaming, flailing, being pretty much a VERY HAPPY PERSON.
• Tony crossing the finish line and saying, "Good job guys, you did great today, thank you," to his crew.
• Kevin was great, and I felt that he deserved to win, but, man, I barely paid attention to him the entire time. He's too good. It's like he's an andriod or something. Or his car is totally jacked out. Bor-ring. But! I still love him, and I love when he and Tony run neck and neck.

Okay, I need to separate this one highlight, because I didn't realize how much it meant until we talked about it on the drive home:

• After Harvick took the checkers, he dropped back into the pack and let Tony lead most of that lap. Tony came around three ALONE and it looked like Harvick kind of gathered up the other guys and kept them back. People were CLAPPING. Like, along with the cheering, but not just the "WOO!" stuff, but, like, paying respect. Seriously, he ran such an amazing race, and such a clean race. There were so many times off of turn four he could have taken out the guy in front of him, but he never did. He stuck to his line, he held it down, he made it work. He still has no off valve when it comes to talking to media, but, seriously, that's part of the reason I love him -- his energy is infectious. He's the Rodney McKay of NASCAR. (And, no, I'm not joking. Junior is totally the John Sheppard. Try that geekery on for size!)

IN SHORT: OMG SO GREAT!

So, I'm channel surfing tonight after staying at work way too late and I see that Junior is the guest on The Daily Show.

Confession: I don't watch TDS. Jon Stewart is clever and quite cute, but I loved when The Daily Show had Craig "Ginger Hotass" Kilborn as the host and they did the Five Questions before the end of every show. Around '96, I remember VInce Vaughn (back before he was Mr. Aniston and fresh off of the success of Swingers) was a guest and he had to answer a question regarding how many rolls of toilet paper to keep on hand if you had guest for a week. He said three -- and he was right. And they called each other "a tall drink of water" and argued about who was taller and I really have no idea why I have such a vivid memory of that segment.

Anyway, so, yeah, all that to say: I don't watch the show. Tangent much?

So, well, Junior. I gotta watch. He's ginger, and not really a hotass in my regular opinion (Although, dude, his #### in that Wrangler commercial? *buys her husband a pair*), and I just wouldn't be a budding NASCAR fan if I didn't tune in. Especially since I laughed my #### off after reading about how Junior joked about Sadler's crash-out last week -- something like, "there goes my ride home!" because the Candyman was going to give him a lift on his plane.

So, I thought, if anything, he'd be an entertaining interviewee, right?

Seriously, could I be more wrong? The entire interview was a cringefest -- I don't know if Junior's PR folks didn't prep him, or if it Jon was just off, or what, but the whole thing was totally uncomfortable to watch. I think most of the guests are waiting for Jon to make fun of them, or something. Maybe the fact that Jon (and the show) pretty much represents the generic Northern liberal  market -- does that have had something to do with it? I don't know. I don't think so. I'm just trying to puzzle this out. I found it really interesting that a guy who I had seen be really personable and charming and witty in quite a few interviews was totally out of his element, and the Jon Stewart, who I think is a great interviewer, couldn't bring it back.

The shots of the #8 in the background were gorgeous, at least. And, I got Junior talking about how he likes racing w/ my man, T. Stew. Because it's all about my love for the Smoke, don't ya know?

My tawdry affair w/ NASCAR was born out of necessity. Trapped at my in-laws' house on Father's Day, every single television in the common rooms was tuned to the race. Surround-sound, well, surrounded us, the flat screen television they gleefully demonstrated for us the moment we walked in the door that morning crisply showing even the smallest details on the cars, in the stands. My husband disappeared to entertain himself w/ the multitude of animals that overrun his parents' house, and I collapsed on the couch next to my father-in-law, glad to be out of my car, out of city traffic, and out of the unseasonably warm 90 degree heat. He stared at the television screen, clearly broadcasting, that, "No, he did not want to make small talk." I know that look well. He wears it during Cops, Walker: Texas Ranger, and really terrible action films. So I watched, too.

And something strange happened.

I began to be really interested (and impressed) with the logistics of the race. The number of people in the stands, the mechanical engineering required to build the race cars. Even the onscreen graphics floored me -- how the camera was able to follow the cars and how the little bubble telling me the stats was able to stay anchored to the car. I started to ask tentative questions, getting interesting (and interested) responses from my F-I-L. Our conversation was derailed for a moment as a bright orange car got mangled on the television screen. My M-I-L ran in as my F-I-L said, "Ohhh, he's gonna be mad."

This was my introduction to Tony Stewart.

My F-I-L then proceeded to tell me that Stewart ran terribly the previous race, his collarbone broken and his car in not any better shape. I shrugged, and asked, "Wouldn't anyone be mad, then?" And he laughed, his eyes on the screen as he watched the pit and garage coverage. "Oh, but he's real mad." I looked back at the screen to see this bear o####uy in a fire suit brandish a sledgehammer and get underneath the car, ####ing out the body around the right front tire. My F-I-L laughed and my M-I-L scoffed -- "Figures," she said, but she was smiling.

I had to know more. I knew enough about NASCAR to know that the driver wasn't really the person who fixed a race car. To me, NASCAR was Jeff Gordon being all smarmy on commercials and country music videos set on repeat on that channel I skip over when I'm surfing. NASCAR was Budweiser beer and big hair and Wrangler jeans. More specifically: NASCAR was not me.

But I had to know. I came home, emailed up a few of my friends from the Carolinas and demanded a run down of who was who and what was what. They laughed, and then laughed some more, and then said, "Wait, what, are you serious?" A few of my friends really took to it, giving me all sorts of info, explaining to me what the hell a restrictor plate was, why it was bad when the yellow flag came out ("Dude, doesn't it let you, I don't know, catch your breath or something?"), and clued me into little known fact that only they would know that I would want to know: Tony Stewart has a pet ####. Tony Stewart drives a souped up hearse. Tony Stewart is #### insane. Greg Biffle's commercials are the funniest. Greg Biffle almost had his #### kicked by Jeff Gordon. If you wear your helmet out of the car, it means you're looking for a fist fight. Tire wear is very serious. Only a certain number of people can come over the fence during a pit stop, which is why they have that funny looking long thing to clean the front grill.

I was shocked. I had no idea so much went into NASCAR, the rules, the regs, the process. I had no idea the personalities involved. I didn't know that I would feel a moment of glee and cheer like a crazy woman when Dale Earnhardt, Jr., nudged his way to the front of the pack. I didn't know that I would throw pillows across my living room when Ryan Newman caught up in Tony Stewart's bumper -- or that I would shout at my television days later when an Altell commercial came on. I didn't know I could loathe a car as much as the 07 - Bowyer rubbed me the wrong way before Pocono, he still rubs me raw. I didn't know that I would come to adore the one racer that everyone either loves, hates, or loves to hate, with a boatload of nicknames (good and bad) that I'm still learning.

A few weeks after my introduction, I watched Tony Stewart climb the fence at Daytona, jump into the crowd like a rock star, my little heart exploding out my chest. Later, I heard he said something like, "a fat kid only compresses so much," and I seriously felt the need to make him cookies or something. He's endearing and generous and completely nuts and totally villianized and completely deserving of the mud that gets slinged and I love it.

My husband thinks it's a fad -- jokingly asks me where his wife went. I may not be what you'd expect of a NASCAR fan, and I'm sure I'll continue to take flack from my friends who think I've lost my damned mind (and coworkers who continue to steal my "Smoke" trading cards from my desk corner and tack them up around the office with incriminating thought balloons), but I'm enjoying myself. It's been a long time since I was able to follow a sport and keep interested and not feel obligated. Maybe because it's really not a sport -- it's a life style. Budweiser tells me so, don't you know? And if that life style means I get to shout and cheer and chill out on my couch w/ my bemused husband and easily startled cats or spend way too much money on tickets for the Chase Race at Loudon this September and beg a scanner off my F-I-L to listen to the pits, well, I guess I'm living it. I guess NASCAR is me.

So, here lie the confessions of a Yankee newbie NASCAR fan with a red MINI Cooper cheerfully adorned w/ an orange sticker pledging her allegiance to the Nation (but not the Red one).

Now if I only understood what that damned green-and-black checkered flag really meant.