Ah… expectations of ’09. You’ve been keeping me up at night. As I lay in bed with the holiday cheer wearing off like a hangover: sweat and smokers’ breath, I’ve come up with a few theories, each one bleaker than the last of what the new year will bring. I don’t know about you, but I’m . . . → Read More: Happy New Year!
The economy is in the shitter and everyone I know has been working OT to get that cheddah. The problem now isn’t how much to spend, but when and where to shop. Let’s face it, all that planning and budgeting and list making doesn’t mean a damn thing in the final stretch. There’s always someone . . . → Read More: Holy Shit Holidays!
(Photos: Nicole Wasilewicz)
At first I thought: this must be a joke. Some sexy, pervy looking Parisian papa in sunglasses whose electronica album (aptly titled Sexuality) is only available in American Apparel stores and contains a song called “Sexual Sportswear”?
Then I listened to the album, felt like Air and Daft Punk made music babies . . . → Read More: Sebastien Tellier
I’ve always been a cat person. I identify with their inherent hunger for individuality, their effortless cool, their blasé attitude towards humanity. Also, they have really cute tummies and ears.
Growing up, our household was sans feline because my father was deathly allergic to them. He made jokes about strangling kittens with his bare hands or . . . → Read More: Catwoman in Dogtown
People. Out there. In the World. Who go to restaurants. Or salad bars. And order food: Stop saying bueno.
And gracias for that matter.
You were raised in Connecticut. You sound ridiculous.
Here’s what I mean: While ordering my salad from one of those Choose-a-Topping places yesterday, the kind where a bunch of Mexicans toss . . . → Read More: No Bueno
Working on the Upperish West Side I’ve caught Barbara Walters and Anthony Kiedis lunching al fresco–not together. I’ve spotted a very dazed Jeff Goldblum stumbling around Columbus Circle in a porkpie hat.
One not fun sight is a species of woman I call the rich fish lady. Rich fish ladies are that rare breed of . . . → Read More: Something Fishy in the Fountain of Youth
November 23, 9:30 pm, New York Penn Station:
The squalid, brown masterpiece that is Penn Station is filled to the brim with Rangers fans. It’s the first hockey game of the season and everyone is bursting with beer and hot dogs. They lost, and they lost it bad. There’s a tipsy aggression in the air . . . → Read More: Unforgiving Thanksgiving In Virginia