Search Result for “sweatpants”

They say it takes ten years to become a New Yorker. I have, what I assume will be, a short six years left to go but I am in absolutely no rush to become a New Yorker. What does becoming a New Yorker even mean, really? I have lived in

Photo from FoodNetwork.com It’s easy to see why people think you need to be rich in order to be healthy. Whole Foods is more expensive than McDonald’s. Bally’s Total Fitness costs a hell of a lot more than say, sitting on the couch and shoveling potato chips in your mouth.

You’re smart, sexy, and sophisticated. And cheap. Anyone would be thrilled to date you, which is why you don’t need to empty your pockets for someone else – in fact  leave those hands in those pockets because you’re going to take yourself out on a five-finger date. Whoever said that

I am the proud owner of a set of bangs.  Like bang ambassador Zooey Deschanel, I have sported face-eating fringe for my entire life– try as I might, I have never been able to grow them out without feeling like my forehead looks a touch too “Teresa Guidice from Real

I am a workingman. My alarm goes off at 7:30 am. I’m ready to start work by 9am. At 11am, I hit the gym for an hour then eat lunch. Afterwards it’s back to work until 6pm. I am a workingman. Sometimes I have deadlines and my keyboard rattles rhythmically

These are my resort-themed Mom capris: They’re covered in colorful hibiscus-print, and have the names of exotic locales like “Martinique” and “St. Lucia” stamped all over them, in a font that can only can be described as “Tiki-esque.”  They’re high-waisted and saggy-legged and cut at the most unflattering part of

The sexual tension in this photo is almost as taut and thick as this woman’s inner thigh. I bet the guy is not exactly slack-muscled either. I always hear people complaining about their girlfriends (and sometimes boyfriends) being expensive. First off, you’re dating the wrong people. Secondly, it doesn’t have

Okay, actually, I mean my daddy issues.  And I don’t mean all of that psychological hoo-ha about abandonment and male authority figures or whatever.  I’m talking about having the hots for guys in khakis and Hawaiian shirts.  As soon as I see a strapping twentysomething in the same outfit that