You have exactly ten seconds to change that look of disgusting pity into one of enormous respect.

I spent Saturday as a tourist in New York City.

I hate that. I hate being a tourist. I don't mind showing out-of-town friends a good time and such, but I can't stand Times Square.

I saw the Producers, featuring that prominent actor featured in such films as Ferris Bueller's Day Off and Walking to the Waterline, which was good. I became taken aback yet again at Times Square.

I don't particularly like Times Square, mostly because everybody who comes to New York City wants to go there. There's absolutely nothing to do in Times Square, save the periodic shouting at windows or unclad buckeroos. Still, it's something to see, essentially a 10-block assortment of Warhol Gone Wild. And I can't stand it cause I've seen it. And now I wish to move on.

I followed that with dinner in Chinatown and dessert in Little Italy. Which was good.

And no, I did not check into my hotel that I booked on Priceline.com shortly thereafter.

I couldn't afford Priceline.com. I stayed home.

Asshole.