Do they realize how hard it is for a girl that grew up in the ’80s to walk into work in a suit and prepare for a meeting with the assistant dean right after hearing the Violent Femmes on the drive in? I had no choice but to be singing along at the top of my lungs, driving too fast, and causing pre-coffee adrenaline to spill into my bloodstream. I got to work wanting to yell obscenities, smash a few things, and tell all the establishment sell-outs how they just don’t get it. I think I deserve special props for having a nice, civilized meeting with the assistant dean, and for being able to somehow convince myself that, despite the suit and the nice, civilized meeting, I am not one of those establishment sell-outs. I will wait patiently for my lunch hour before smashing things.