Can anyone guess what this is without scrolling down?

Give up? It’s the entrance to an inflatable tunnel at a local fair! What were you thinking?

If you think this looks odd, you should see what it looked like when they came out the other end. All sorts of anatomical horrors were called to mind.

I was passing by the Aéropostale store on 5th Avenue and saw a big hub-bub. A gaggle of tourists and clicking cameras on a busy Manhattan street can only mean one thing: celebrity sighting! I’ve lived here a long, long time and let me tell you something; spotting a celebrity NEVER gets old. I moved in for a closer look. I had faint hopes that it was one of my two pretend girlfriends; Mary Louise Parker or Marissa Tomei.
As expected, I was sorely disappointed in the extreme. It was the cut, hunky young man whose poster adorns the entrance. It was an in-store promotion. That guy has 0% body fat! The girls swooned. You know, they only want him for his washboard abs and exposed boxer shorts.

They don’t care one whit about his mind. If I saw my Mary Louise or Marissa, I’d ask them a lot of questions about their aspirations and pay attention. I wouldn’t stare longingly at their heaving breasts while they answered.

As I’ve admitted in the past, I’m just a big old Anglophile so, yes, I got sucked into the Royal Wedding madness just a bit. I know I should be too old and too detached to care but what can I say? There are taxi cabs roaming around town that carry a congratulatory message for the Royal Couple. I think this is so fine! It’s New York tipping our hat to London.

Every morning before work I have a cup of coffee at the same corner deli. There’s always a flat screen TV playing the A.M. talk shows. The sound on the TV is turned down and they stream the local lite rock radio station in the background. I got my coffee and sat at a table to watch the wedding coverage. Big stupid smile on my face wishing I was there. The carriage had left Westminster Abbey and was well on its way to Buckingham Palace. As it turned a corner, the radio station blasted Barry White’s disco classic Can’t Get Enough of Your Love. It was so perfectly timed that it made me wonder if it was intentional.

I got to my office and booted up to watch the balcony kiss from my desk. I thought the BBC was the place to go for the best coverage. Go to the source! I got this very British response when I clicked the “watch live” link:

Shouldn’t the BBC have assumed that streaming traffic would be extraordinarily heavy that morning and somehow found a way to up their bandwidth? Who’s running that joint?