Usually I despise Times Square, just on principle. It is the not-so-secret headquarters of every tourist who ever walked very slowly down a street in New York. It is overpriced and busy and crowded and obnoxious.
Today, however, as I decided that if I did not get some new music I would, in fact, be killing myself by teatime, I had to venture north to a Virgin Megastore to pick myself up a little something. I had originally intended to buy a Eurovision compilation, as I have just learned of the existence of this very exciting contest celebrating all things Bubblegum Europop. Sadly, even Virgin did not have a copy on hand, but happily, Happy Hardcore has a brand-spankin'-new album out: Happy 2B Hardcore, Volume 7, A New Beginning. Oh, oh, oh yes. And plus the Thoroughly Modern Millie cast recording. That Sutton Foster is such a cutie-pie-face.
Anyhow. Times Square did not make me want to scrape off my face with a rusty fork today. Despite having to force my way through a very tightly packed crowd of people screaming "Hogan! Hogan! Hogan!" around a line of limousines outside the ESPNZone restaurant twice (there and back again), the sunshine let me ignore them all. Plus, the girl at the check-out register smiled at me, and then while I was signing my receipt she told me that my bent-antique-fork-ring-from-Portobello-Road was gorgeous. And a guy on the street stopped me to tell me that my hair is "fuckin' bad-ass." And I saw my very first in-person Segway, that lovely little Human Transporter that I so covet, as I do with most things ridiculously technological. Some guy was just tooling down the sidewalk on one, and it really looked like a lot of fun.
Then we got to the mob of Hoganites, and as there was absolutely z-e-r-o room to get by, he just kind of had to stand there, balancing, for a minute, and then decided to go all the way around the block. Despite the fact that I'm rather fond of the Segway, this really made me laugh. What good are your fancy-schmancy gyro-stabilizers going to do now, Mr. Richy Segwaypants?
Now, if you will excuse me. I have some Happy Hardcore to pour deep into my ears -- Good thing my boss does not mind me having aural sex at my desk.