Dear NASCAR,
I hate you.
No love,
Heather
***
Dear NASCAR,
No, really, I don't think you understood my last note. I really, really hate you. Like, not only do I not want to have sex with you ever again, but I'm totally telling everyone that you have crabs and sleep with sluts.
No love,
Heather
***
Dear NASCAR,
Maybe you didn't quite understand from my last note. I never want to see you again. You've hurt me for the last time. You cheated on me with a Californian. A crybaby Californian at that. And no, I'm not talking about Jeff Gordon. Or Jimmie Johnson. And don't even mention Casey Mears. He had every reason to cry. No, I'm not talking about Harvick either, or Allmendinger or...
You know, never mind. I don't know why I'm wasting my breath. You love California more than you love me.
No love,
Heather
***
Dear NASCAR,
I hate you kind of this morning for sure and never want to see you again and all a night's (abbreviated) sleep has taught me is...well, yeah, I'll be watching at one.
But you owe me, you bastard.
Grouchily yours,
Heather
***
Dear NASCAR,
In all seriousness, 2-fucking-a.m.? You were going to inflict a 2 a.m. race time on those drivers? Let's mention jet lag. Let's mention the fact that their schedules are already fucked up. Let's mention the part where most of them have had to wait around all day for something to happen.Let's mention that some of them are tired from fucking Kasey Kahne. Oh, wait, that's just Ellyut. For god's sake! Have pity on all the fans who already left the freaking track because they're exhausted and wet. Have pity on all the fans at home who just want to sleep for a bit. Wait a day and freaking run the entire race, okay?
Oh, and you owe Casey Mears an apology. And Denny Hamlin. And the collateral damage (Junior, Hornish, Sorenson) from that Mears wreck. Really, anyone who slid because of the weeping track.
Very tiredly yours,
Heather
I hate you.
No love,
Heather
***
Dear NASCAR,
No, really, I don't think you understood my last note. I really, really hate you. Like, not only do I not want to have sex with you ever again, but I'm totally telling everyone that you have crabs and sleep with sluts.
No love,
Heather
***
Dear NASCAR,
Maybe you didn't quite understand from my last note. I never want to see you again. You've hurt me for the last time. You cheated on me with a Californian. A crybaby Californian at that. And no, I'm not talking about Jeff Gordon. Or Jimmie Johnson. And don't even mention Casey Mears. He had every reason to cry. No, I'm not talking about Harvick either, or Allmendinger or...
You know, never mind. I don't know why I'm wasting my breath. You love California more than you love me.
No love,
Heather
***
Dear NASCAR,
I hate you kind of this morning for sure and never want to see you again and all a night's (abbreviated) sleep has taught me is...well, yeah, I'll be watching at one.
But you owe me, you bastard.
Grouchily yours,
Heather
***
Dear NASCAR,
In all seriousness, 2-fucking-a.m.? You were going to inflict a 2 a.m. race time on those drivers? Let's mention jet lag. Let's mention the fact that their schedules are already fucked up. Let's mention the part where most of them have had to wait around all day for something to happen.
Oh, and you owe Casey Mears an apology. And Denny Hamlin. And the collateral damage (Junior, Hornish, Sorenson) from that Mears wreck. Really, anyone who slid because of the weeping track.
Very tiredly yours,
Heather