boogity, boogity, boogity

Okay, I really want to see this. No, I don't know why. I don't like stock car racing. I've never been. I don't understand the appeal of watching cars drive around in a circle for four hours on a hot Sunday afternoon. My parents do live across the way (in a manner of speaking) from Darrell Waltrip, but the only thing I know about him is when my friend who lived next door to the Waltrips went to sell cheese at their house for a third-grade fundraiser, Mrs. Waltrip was pregnant with one of their daughters. "She bought a lot of cheese," he said. And plus Darrell owns the Franklin Honda dealership.

None of this is enough to 'splain my fascination with this stupid movie, though. Maybe it's the heat.