Skip to main content

Sharing the road with a punk

OK, I do have something to say this evening. An event in my everyday--I had pulled up to a stop sign in my marginally buecolic (spell?) small town in Ohio. Sun was shining, breeze was reshreshing through the open minivan/stationwagon/suv vehicle (I drive a Chrystler Pacifica--what the heck is that?) Anyway, beside me in my reverie I am forced to share the road with a punk with all windows lowered and a sad excuse for music blaring from his bad speaker system. I mean BLARING. I had had a little disturbance earlier with some work frustration, and I was in no mood for listening to someone else's lack of taste. So, uncharacteristic of my "live and let live" policy, I hollered at the guy--HEY--I said as loud as my mommy voice could holler--and it can travel, believe me. He didn't flinch. So I waved my arms and hollered again--HEY. I believed I was speaking for everyone else at the red light. Still, no flinching. Light turned green, traffic flowed accordingly, and the punk was out of reach. That was the end of that. No satisfaction for the frustrated Pacifica-driving, harried woman who prefers Haydn's horn concertos to what's-his-name-with-no-sense-of beauty-or-quality-of-life.

Live and let live, I say, unless I'm accausted by senseless banging sounds.

Warning to any who might read my meandering writings--I have trouble spelling on the spot.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Cindy Loo Who In October

What is it with people and Cindy Loo Who? Of my last one hundred blog hits, forty have been direct visits from regular readers, and fifteen have been as a result of people searching for "Cindy Loo Who," the little pixie from Seuss's How The Grinch Stole Christmas . A couple of years ago, I posted an image of the original Seuss illustration as compared to the TV cartoon image, and for some reason, that post is bringing in the crowds, relatively. Maybe it's the weather. It isn't even November yet, and already we've had frost and have had to dust off our winter coats. When it gets cold like this, I start to think about Christmasy things like listening to Nat King Cole and decorating the tree. It's ironic because I am offended when retailers start pushing holiday stuff early, but I don't mind my own private celebrations. When my sister and I were much younger and still living with our parents, we would pick a day in July, close the curtains to darken the ...
8 comments
Read more

The Ultimate Storyteller—in Life AND in Death

I wrote about The Autobiography of Mark Twain in yesterday's edition of Small Town Newspaper. You can read it here , if you want. This is the photograph I had in mind while I read Clemens' dictations. He really was a masterful storyteller, even when rambling on about the poorly designed door knobs in Florence or in describing the Countess Massiglia, who he described as a "pestiferous character." About her, he said, “She is excitable, malicious, malignant, vengeful, unforgiving, selfish, stingy, avaricious, coarse, vulgar, profane, obscene, a furious blusterer on the outside and at heart a coward.” And I laughed out loud.
2 comments
Read more