Thursday, July 23, 2009

When in Lakewood- blog in all night coffee shops.

I punched a man in the face last Saturday night-

and it was quite possibly the most bad ass moment of my young life. But before I can unveil more about that, I should fill you in on the events leading up to the single best moment of my life so far. Let's rewind to Tuesday, July 14th of the year 2009. On this fateful aforementioned night, I resigned from my most current relationship with this guy...Fellow bloggers, meet Al. Now, I know he looks like your typical angst ridden punk, and in reality, he is. But this ferocious lad is also so much more. For one, he's one of the four people who's DNA makes up my best friend, along with The Asian,Killer and Cait. He's also one of the most adorable kids I've ever met...but that's not why I clocked him in the face. After my resignation he left me with a paperweight in my chest and became, for lack of a better term, a punk. Now young Al had a good thing going for him. He was in a decent band and had decent friends. He was a decent guy. Until one day, his tiny world exploded. Now he has no friends, quit his decent band, and became a ghost of the adorable young lad I once knew and subsequently, adored. Now back when we were together we had an agreement between us.When young Al said or did something remarkably stupid- [granted, this was not often] I would give hm a tally. If and when he got to 25, I was allowed to punch him in the face. far trade? I'd like to think so. Towards the end of our time together he had accumulated far more than 25 tally's and was well aware of this fact. But young Al made one fatal mistake- he refused to believe me every time I threatened his adorable little face. Now this lad had one final show with his decent little band before he so tastefully decided to give his band mates the proverbial middle finger for reasons unknown to the rest of us. Now this lad was pushing the show pretty hard- I guess he wanted to go out with a bang or something that seemed logical to him at the time, so we all bought tickets, and pushed our limits to make it out to Misdirected Aggression's last show as a decent band. Fast forward to the few moments we had to smoke a quick cigarette and book it back inside to see Left Alone-an incredible ska band from California.Aside from having a moment with the bassist as he stared deep into my eyes and gave me the type of shit eating grin that can ONLY mean one thing- the men below my perch on the balcony had begun to form the usual mosh pit you can only find at an underground punk show. The pit was loud, fast and full of men-until something happened. I found myself tossing aside my cigarettes and glasses, and hurling myself down the stairs into the mass of sweaty lads who were busy beating the shit out of anyone who came too close. I found myself in the midst of the beating of a century, my lungs screamed at me to get out, but the paperweight in my chest seemed to evaporate on the spot. I found myself relaxing as I was thrown brutally in between men twice my size, hands and elbows hit my face,arms and every other exposed appendage possible. And to my surprise, I found myself hitting back just as hard. All too soon the set was finished, and the pit broke apart in a wave of high fives and requests for cigarettes.I joined the current of people headed for the back patio and found the people I was looking for. I stood in a semi-circle alongside Al, smoke hung lazily overhead as the single greatest moment of my life was rapidly approaching. He turned his head for an instant to reply to a friend, when I found myself winding back and prepared to issue three months worth of misdirected aggression straight to his face. In that split second it took for my fist to make contact, I watched his face turn from passive, to astonishment, to disbelief as my knuckles made full contact with his temple. The greatest moment of my young life so far was in that second where my fist found Al's face, and within the next few minutes where it made it's way to his collar bone and stomach, respectively. I had finally done what I said I would do much to his surprise and it felt absolutely amazing. Well, there you have it fellow bloggers. Three months worth of pent up aggression, all let out in about three minutes.
The moral of this story: the best way to win a lad's heart, is to punch him in the face.
Until next time, stay classy kids.

1 comment:

  1. Oh, moshing at local punk shows. Good to know I'm not the only crazy girl from Akron who gets a kick out of getting pushed around by men twice my size, and more power to you for being just as violent as said twice-as-large-as-you men. And even more power than the aforementioned more power for punching someone who (I assume, though the whole story isn't here...) was a dick to you in the face.