They will dump all those lessons from their over-feminized childhood and adolescence. They will join what the Boston Globe has called the “Menaissance.” And they will buy titles like The Alphabet of Manliness (K is for Knockers, Q is for Quickies), The Retrosexual Manual, Being the Strong Man a Woman Wants, and actor Jim Belushi’s recent Real Men Don’t Apologize.
That Shockey wasn’t there with him. A gun that’s fired after it’s accidentally dropped, there’s no telling where he would have been shot. Meanwhile, the Ladies of Bourbon Street should be nervous about now…
In honor of the Thanksgiving holiday, the [redacted] offices will close at 3PM today and remain closed through Friday, November 28, 2008. We will return to our normal business hours on Monday, December 1, 2008.
Seeing pictures of Julia Allison with her magnificently-sweatered grandmother makes me feel the same way I did whenever I’d see pictures of Obama with his adorable daughters (particularly the hammy younger one, with whom I feel an odd kinship.) Which is to say, it makes me … want to vote for her? I dunno.
I was late for the gym this morning, waiting to catch a cab, and I realized, “you know, her cab-light analogy for relationships was quite apt, now that I think about it.” No sooner did that cross my mind than a cab without its light on pulled up to me and offered me a ride. THINK ABOUT IT.
Yes, but some girls are offered the ride, while others pout when the cab doesn’t stop despite their arm-waving. There’s a wealth of difference in those two world views, no?
I’ve had enough of this. Sad that you got laid off, but so have a lot of others who wrote more than 250 words a week. If Ms. Insatiable is worried she’ll be strapped for cash, I have a suggestion: let Gael edit Restaurant Girl’s Daily News reviews/trainwrecks. Reap what you sow, honey.
I want La Nacional to remain open, just for its enjoyable qualities as a destination, but I never thought the tapas there were the reason for a visit. Weird Spanish dudes, sure, but I’ll take my decidedly less authentic uni panini from El Quinto Pino and just meet you there.
“Those closest to the chaos in Afghanistan say that throwing more soldiers into combat won’t help. “More troops are not the answer,” a senior United Nations official in Kabul tells me. “You will not make more babies by having many guys screw the same woman.”—Rolling Stone
I read the books—even the boringish essay collections—watched the shows—defending the dinner with Wylie Dufresne epidsode of No Reservations—and appreciate your take on things. But if you are responsible for the death and/or ruin of Sophie’s, one of the East Village’s greatest dive bars, I will bury you. It was at Sophie’s where I first made it to closing time, saw my first cocaine booger, got flashed by a woman in a tube top and watched Derek Jeter’s midnight home run on the 2001 World Series. Heck, it’s where I scored my first real phone number. So please, please, please, don’t fuck it up. I already said goodbye to it once, when it was slated to close last year. A zombie Sophie’s filled with people who think they are cleverly slumming it instead of NYU students tickled pink their fake IDs passed muster would break my heart.
Other than that, keep up the attacks on Sandra Lee and Rachel Ray. They’re sure to snap eventually.
Later on during the Colts-Bolts game, there was a bumper shot of turkeys in a pen. (I assume they had to wait for Madden to go to the bathroom, lest he start sewing additional legs on the things). Al Michaels then said “Even though the markets may slide another 1,000 points, we’ll still have a better week than those guys.” Indeed! ‘Cause they will soon all be slaughtered and eaten. Presumably, that means they’ll have to get their Christmas shopping done early, which is a huge pain.
I’m not sure what the national obsession with living turkeys is during the holidays, but between the pardons and the Palin fiasco and this, it’s creeping me out. It’s just so morbid. I mean, I’m a happy meat-eater, but I don’t recall signing up to gloat about it to the animals themselves. Yes, turkeys have stupid expressions on their stupid turkey faces, but must we make mock? If you see a turkey on the street, just smile and nod appreciatively. You don’t have to be a jerk about it.
After slogging my way through post after post on Thanksgiving, I’ve decided that Serious Eats is the hyper-earnest girl or boy you date Freshman year at college. Everyone else is throwing up at the Village Idiot, and you’re stuck listening to how important it is to respect each other’s feelings, and when should our families meet, and I’m so sorry I didn’t call you back for two whole hours, and let’s wear matching sweatshirts.
A few years later, they’ll make a good partner for someone who can’t take care of themselves particularly well, but the constant obsession with nesting (or I don’t know, going out to Sunset Park and photographing pork shanks with noodles) is halfway between sweet and desperate. I’m glad someone wants to do it, but you’ll find me at the Village Idiot*.
*Note: The Village Idiot is now Scarpetta, but you’ll probably still find me there.
Rob Sheffield on the JFK/RFK/MLK unitary conspiracy theory in Legacy of Secrecy. It makes me sad that I grew up in the Prodigy/AOL era of the Internet. I really liked conspiracies in high school, so Lord knows I might not have ever left my room if Wikipedia existed then.
If, by some chance, there was a freak fermentation accident at City Winery last night, we would be 100% food-blog-free this morning. How would I find out what happened on Top Chef?
Meanwhile, whether you buy into the idea of an $8,000 wine barrel of your own or not, do take note that sometime-Attractions keyboardist Steve Nieve is slated to perform there in the new year with “special guests”, hint-hint.
Anyone Else Noticed that the BBC World Service has been on Fire the Last two Days?
Yesterday, in their story about the Somali pirates, they discussed how said pirates have their own restaurants and catering (Filipino food, mostly). Today, they’ve featured a sound bite from a representative of the “English Collective of Prostitutes” and also a discussion between someone against sex slavery and “a man who has used prostitutes”. He’s currently arguing that the prostites were like therapy with full release, and that it’d make our society better because men would be more relaxed. Thanks, BBC.
As a New York Bartending School graduate, I can say without bias that the ability to look good in black pants is at least as important as knowing how to make a Woo-Woo*, if you’re applying for a job behind the bar.
*That’s a Very Pretty Chick, for those who like mnemonics.
How is it that this artist/band has become the musical wet dream of every webnerd under the Goddamn sun?!?!
it’s the same reason that family guy is so popular. it’s a lot of references, thrown out in a semi-incoherent manner, that pulverize brain stems into a constant ‘ah, remember back then, when things were so much less shittier than they are now?’ state (even if things were not in fact better then).
It’s new music for people who don’t have space in their lives for any new music.
Hi. My name is Neal, and I work in an industry that’s falling to pieces as we speak.
That is to say, I work as a journalist.
Today, I found out that a well-known publication that I write on a regular basis for was folding. The word is, their web site would exist only as an archive and no more new articles would be coming out.
This publication was the third magazine/website I’ve written for that’s folded in the last month.
The first magazine shutting I got notice of was for an edgy, insightful and oftentimes brilliant print publication that was required reading for a certain crowd. I was working on a 2000+ word piece for them that would have been my first byline in the mag. As I was working on a third draft of my article for them, I got word they were kaput.
The second casualty was a semi well-known website who I’ve written for a few times before in the past. They paid decently (which, in the world of the web, is awesome) but I only wrote for them irregularly due to day job/grad school commitments. Despite that, I was on the website’s listserv and was kept up to date on new developments. Two weeks ago, they gave the word that their parent company was folding them into a larger email blast publication… meaning that, for all intents and purposes, they were gone.
The third piece of bad news relates to the luxury travel spinoff of a well-known print institution that I’ve written for several times in the past. Today, I heard some bad news that they had laid off their full-timers and were no longer accepting freelance work… and then subsequently Gawker and FishbowlNY reported the news.
Meanwhile, I have enough freelance work and savings to stay solvent for the time being… but my heart’s going out like a motherfucker to the full-time people who were apparently laid off over there.
What the hell is happening to this industry?
It’s days like these that I feel like I’ve invested my life’s energy into starting a Betamax rental store or pushing the need for everyone to switch to direct current.
I like ladies too, but you’ve currently got posts up on drinking with the “Beauteous Rohini Dey” of At Vermilion and a video of the “coltish” and “rangy” Jill Snyder of this season’s Top Chef. When I was a college freshman, a senior took me aside a few months into the fall semester. We had been frequenting one East Village bar where I really, really, really liked (flirting) with the service. This fellow explained to me, as you would a child: “Nobody ever goes home with the waitress,” and he was absolutely right. So let’s tone it down, eh?
I knew Nick Swisher seemed familar for a reason! Here’s the article on his 2006-2007 off-season workout regimen. To whit:
While many baseball players have gone new age with their training methods, Swisher opted for the oldest program he could find. He drove out to the Midwestern countryside and swung a sledgehammer until he could swing it no more.
He chopped trees. He leveled walls. He busted concrete. When there were no trees or walls or concrete left, he found a monster-truck tire, and he whaled away on that. And after he was finished, he had gained 20 pounds.
Not that he’s a Yankee, maybe he can work on a construction site in New Jersey until the season starts.
Also, is he endorsing Swisher urinals yet? ‘Cause it’s important to me that it happen sooner rather than later, if not.