2002-05-17 3:42 p.m. So, if I make it through this weekend without a.)dying or b.)getting in a fight, I'll consider it a success. Saturday is the 127th running of the Preakness Stakes, the second jewel in the storied Triple Crown. Actualy, I have no idea if the Triple Crown is storied or not. I know next to nothing about horse racing. Oh, I know about the Derby and I know about Belmont. But beyond that all I know is that 'dem horsies run in a big ol' circle and that jockies are short little sissies. And also not to piss them off b/c they could seriously bruise your shins. But I'm going. To the Preakness. Why, Charmcity? It sounds to me like some society function and you are *so* not society. Well, you're right. And also, fuck you. The Preak (as I renamed it earlier today) makes a big deal of their 90,000 to 100,000 attendees. What they neglect to tell you is that perhaps 70,000 of those are in the infield. And in the infield is, from what I understand, thr biggest drunk fest east of the Mississippi and north of spring break. Everyone drinks, many of the girls decide to show us what god gave them (to which I say, thanks G!) and the general moron level is at astronomical proprtions. I can't wait! But I've also heard that people pass out in the mud. And also that the testosterone if a-flowin'. Now here's a little secret about me. I'm a lover, not a fighter. When given the opportunity. To love; not fight. So I just hope there's not some big drunk idiot (shut up! i meant other than me.) that wants to start something. Regardless, I'm sure it'll be a day to remember. Or not at all. downtown----uptown leave me a note, fool!

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