“So how did you guys meet?”
If you are in a relationship, you will be asked this question over and over. It’s silly to not be prepared, people want a story.
I love a good “how we met” story. So much so I could be accused of trying to make relationships work simply because of how great the origin story was…
How did I meet my first New York boyfriend? On a Central Park bench my 2nd day in Manhattan! It’s a great story! Remember the story of the 20-year-old I met in the check-out line at Trader Joe’s? Another good story! Then there the two fellas I met literally on the streets New York. Stories so good you’d expect them to be scenes in the next Sex and the City movie. One was a hipster I met while walking up 9th Avenue who was carrying a banjo and I flirtatiously teased him about it, the other finance bro I met on 33rd and Lex outside Brother Jimmy’s, who asked if I’d join him and his buddy for a drink and I said yes.
My more significant ex I met at work. Which should be a boring story but isn’t because we were working at a freaking Renaissance fair. Read More
There are certain things that unite all New Yorkers. From cursing the MTA to hacking the harrowing housing market. Moments shared by anyone who has ever called this city home. The universal feelings of biting into the brunch you waited over an hour for and stepping out of your building on the first crisp day of autumn.
If you live in this city (and have a soul) there will be times when your heart swells. These New York minutes may be unexpected: like discovering a tiny child belting out Journey hits on a subway platform. Sometimes we seek them out: braving the crowds to visit the Rockefeller Christmas. Even the most jaded of us find ourselves overcome on occasion.
This is the greatest city in the world. Goddamn, I am lucky to live here.
If there is one thing most of the pathetically polarized American populous can agree upon these days I propose it is this:
CHEESE IS AWESOME.
This uniting sentiment is why I found myself in a beautiful event space in Brooklyn, my hands covered in curds and whey.
A perfect modern update on Little Miss Muffet but no spiders NOR cockroaches sat down next to me, thank you very much!
I attended a cheese making class where we learned how to turn milk into mozzarella.
My favorite time of year is winding down and I’m desperate to suck up every last moment of summer magic I can manage. Slurping it up like the season is a glass of frozen hot chocolate from Serendipity 3 and I’m an NYC blogger (with a formidable sweet tooth). If you’re like me and want to squeeze as many summer adventures as possible before Labor Day, I have one for the top of your list.
The Jazz Age Lawn Party on Governor’s Island!
It’s my favorite party of my favorite season! (I don’t say that lightly as my birthday party is in July!) The Jazz Age Lawn Party swings into Governor’s Island this weekend, August 26-27. The best news for all you cats and dolls- tickets are still available for both days! You won’t find a more delightful event in the whole Tri-state area, nor a better excuse for uttering such phrases as, “It’s the bee’s knees!”
How do I love the Jazz Age Lawn Party on Governor’s Island? Let me count the ways!
There are rare moments when New York City comes together as a community. It’s a beautiful thing. All too often the inspiration or impetus is a negative one. There was that feeling of community, the majority of the 6 million of us occupying the same head space, after the 2016 election. It’s easy to unite over the currently constant “FUCK TRUMP” and “FUCK THE MTA“. In times of crisis, New Yorker are there for each other in a way an outsider might never guess. I saw this on a intimate scale when I almost fainted on the subway on on a large scale the days following Hurricane Sandy.
Today the New York community showed up over something intrinsically essential, entirely a-political, primal and beautiful. Awesome in its truly awe-inspiring definition. We set aside our BUSY, BUSY, FUCK OFF, I’M BUSY attitudes and gathered in droves to stare up at the sky for
The Solar Eclipse 2017
When you have a friend who’s a personal trainer, it’s sorely tempting to want to abuse them. They suggest hanging out and you silently wonder if “grabbing drinks” actually means “giving you a free work out!” Every time you see them, you stop yourself from begging, “You hold the secrets to my dream bod! TELL ME! TELLLL MEEE!!!”
My friend Michael Eisenstein is a personal trainer and one of the raddest people I know. He’s known to casting directors throughout NYC as “The Nerdy Assassin” (seriously: http://www.thenerdyassassin.com/), a moniker he coined himself, that not only describes his look but his interests as well.
This is a guy who looks as comfortable in suspenders as he does in a muscle shirt. Who you’re equally likely to find on a Thursday night riding his motorcycle or playing Magic cards. Mike’s a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and also learned how to freaking FIRE EAT while working at a Renaissance fair. RAD AF, right? Read More
A typical birthday celebration in NYC involves telling your friends to stop by a bar. Perhaps, if you’re feeling intimate, a meal at a restaurant. I’ve had several birthdays like this. They’re crowded, loud and, if you’re a lightweight like me, you get completely shitfaced as people keep buying you birthday beverages.
All it takes is one birthday barfing to make you never want to have a one of these typical NYC bar parties ever again. Read More