After the successful conclusion of an eBay auction last week, I bought myself an iPod^*. During a 60-minute hole in my afternoon schedule, I went down to the Apple store on Prince street. Okay, I’m going to make this short, since it contains nothing that hasn’t been said a million times by other bloggers:

1. Everyone in that store is freakin’ begging for a gigantic wedgie, including:
   
   
   
   • “Omar”, the sharp-jawed white guy with the big ol’ dreadlocks demonstrating the iSight camera with a toothy shit-eating grin on his face.
     
   • The 34-year-old art director with the black nylon Eisenhower jacket and the messy frosted rocker hair listening to Omar.
     
   • The 60-year old lady in the expensive car coat asking the salesperson if the model of iPod she’s buying will be obsolete next year.
     
   • The 24-year-old salesperson who works as a physical trainer telling the lady “Uh, I don’t know, ma’am, they don’t give us that information.”
     
   
   I’d like to blow-dry my hair, put on a yellow polo shirt with a standy-uppy collar, burst in through the tall glass doors of the Soho store with a pack of smug, blond jocks and leave all those losers swinging from the coathooks outside the locker room, wide swaths of tidy whities proclaiming their shame.

2. The iPod is really super-great. Really super-great.