Punk Rock

The Weekend’s Punk Rock Awards Go To…

The man at the Hess station, for refusing to help me on Saturday night, despite the fact that it was freezing, snowing, and blustery, and despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, and despite the fact that the sign on the pump said “PLEASE SEE CASHIER.”

The guy in the car behind me during the snowstorm, for deciding that I wasn’t driving fast enough, tearing around me, spending a good 10 seconds driving on the wrong side of the road, then hitting a patch of ice and spinning around and around.

Plainview, for not at all bothering to plow Old Country Road, possibly the busiest street in the town, after the dreadful weather we had Saturday night/Sunday morning, adding a fun dune-buggy effect to my driving experience the next day.

The man at my register, for smirkily acknowledging that he was disobeying the express lane rules, and then refusing to leave even after I told him he should go on another lane.

Me, for telling the man he should go on another lane.

Chip, for managing to smash to the ground: my wine glasses, wine decanter, and lamp, all in one fell swoop.

Dr. von Rockenstein, for vomiting twice Sunday morning, then immediately trotting to her dish and meowing for breakfast.

Every girl at Field of Dreams, for defying laws of physics with chin-level cleavage.

Babz, for drunkenly throwing her rifle at the hunting videogame, after the bucks evaded her yet again.

And the Ultimate Punk Rock Award goes to…

Megan, for:

– getting drunk at Stingers on Saturday night
– leaving at 4:30am
– heading out to walk home in the brutal snowstorm
– thinking better of it
– walking to a police station
– politely and nonchalantly asking the cops for a ride home
– getting one!

© January 16, 2006

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