I basically never cooked anything for real until after college.  I grew up in a take-out household, and when my mom did decide to cook it was usually “healthy”, aka dry and sans salt, seasoning, fat or anything else that gives flavor.  So yeah, it was a few years of

Art museums are great and all, but in NYC they are always mobbed and usually charge admission.  But the truth is, any motivated broke-ass fool can cobble together a few quarters for the suggested admission at the Met or hit up the Free Saturdays at Brooklyn Museum. The real challenge

I’ve got some awesome news! We received a grant from the Civic Joy Fund to put out a literary magazine celebrating SF and acting to counter the stupid “Doom Loop” narrative. It’s a gift to the people of San Francisco. And after months of working on this project it’s now available

By now everyone, living or dead, knows about our girl Kari the “Hipster Grifter” who parlayed the urban white males offensive fetishization of Asian women into big, big money. When the folks at Vice magazine met her they fell hard for that edgy haircut, childlike eyes and of course the

It’s hot out, y’all, and beautiful.  On the streets of NYC folks are shedding layers like snakes on a rock, caterpillars emerging from their cocoons into  butterflies, or beefy, red-faced roadies peeling off their flannel outer layers to reveal the sweaty, fetid Queensryche shirt beneath.  It’s time to show those

Her music is weird and her style is weirder. It’s official: I have a total gay crush on Natasha Khan from Bat for Lashes. Not a half-assed ‘girl crush” where I wish she was my BFF or something, but a fully sexual, gay crush. I would get with Natasha Khan

As promised a few weeks back, I did finally fight the fear and I headed over to TopsShop last week to check things out. The store itself is terrifying, with multiple levels, flashing lights, loud music and a sea of Long Island-looking girls dragging their bored, glassy-eyed boyfriends around by

In college I had some seriously embarrassing posters on my wall.  One of those “My Goodness, My Guinness!” vintage beer ads (ha ha, get it? Sometimes I get drunk!) a corny, fake-introspective Van Gogh interior and some horrifically lame William Bouguereau abomination with frolicking cherubs so feminine it practically had

Thursday in New York, was a beautiful spring day, the kind that makes you remember why you moved to this town in the first place. It just feels like a picnic lunch, a dress and a light spring coat, smoking a joint on the fire escape overlooking the flowering trees