My weekends are generally free of Punk Infection. Most consist of huge breakfasts (the only point in the week where I eat anything before 12pm), uncontrollable sadness and working on the FTP print zine.
Turns out that I could've just gone to this fuckin' thing and been terminally infected with Flat Tire Punk.
Instead, I remain an enormous failure.
Kudos to anyone who saw this. Your life is infinitely cooler than mine.
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