Rock/Roll.

People, FXA gets back on the rock train this Saturday on Cape Cod. It's been awhile, but the tunes will still give you a case of ass-kickitis which, unfortunately, is incurable. Ah well.

Speaking of Cape Cod and all things unrelated to it, I, your trusty narrator and dearest friend, was almost killed this morning on my bicycle. As I made my way down Beacon Street a big white van pulled out right in front of me and stopped. I hit the brakes like a brake hitting maniac, and with some cute little swerving I narrowly avoided my tragic end. Of course I was mad as hell and started CURSE-ing. I threw out just about every word I know, including (gasp) the F-bomb. However, as I was about finished with my rant, this 700 year old woman leaned out of the van and said "I'm so sorry dear. Are you OK? Oh, I feel terrible." I of course said it was all OK and climbed under a rock.

Point of the story? This seems to be my life, not expressing justifiable anger to those people who really deserve it, but going off on poor old ladies who prolly don't hear the F-bomb all that frequently. Arg.