Pale, Rabid, Aging Hipsters

I managed to crawl out of my Saturday morning bed, complete with a white fluffy comforter dappled with sunlight and a warm and snore-less Shug to make it to Slowtrain for Record Store Day.

Bad decision.

Even though we'd managed to make it to the shop about half an hour after they opened, most of the records sweet Shug were drooling over were already gone.

Where did they go? Multiple copies were trapped in the clammy grasps of about five or six anemic, graying hipsters whose main source of income was clearly eBay, the only rationale I could come to, since one individual had about a dozen copies of a single record clutched to his sunken chest, along with dozens more.

The small space was crowed and eye contact was avoided at all costs, except with my apparently enrapturing boobs. Personal space bubbles were being destroyed all around us and the anxiety levels were starting to make ME uncomfortable.

The silver lining to taking "the girls" on an unannounced parade was that Slowtrain was busy...and making money!

And side note to these poor lads who ventured out into the public to score some Record Day treasure: Sunscreen.