I’ve been meaning to read Christopher Moore’s books for a long time.  The dude has like 10 of them, so you’d think I’d have gotten around to it by now.  Plus my best friend, Jeremy, has read most of them and says he’ll let me borrow one.  But you know

Some weeks back, I mentioned Wright’s Pink Popcorn in a post I wrote about the Stow Lake Boathouse. Wright’s Pink Popcorn is one of those items one finds on dusty corner grocery shelves and at sports concessionaires that is a certain class of ancient snack on par with the likes

With the spring time comes the phenomenon I first learned about in Bambi: every little animal is putting out pheromones and looking to attract a mate. This includes humans. If you find yourself trying to plan a hot date on a Tuesday night, I suggest Nita Nita in Williamsburg. Bottles

What I am about to suggest may seem wrong for a website for and about broke people.  I think the restaurant I am writing about is considered ‘˜upscale’ and maybe even ‘˜expensive’.  But here is the twist.  If you eat here once, you will never have to eat again.  That

In college, I learned that drinking wine out of a mason jar was socially acceptable. Unfortunately, that habit didn’t translate well in my post-grad life. Real adults think jars are tacky — although, I’m willing to concede that this might just be a San Francisco thing since a lot of

  As Americans, we aren’t used to getting shit for free, so when we do, we often act completely inappropriately. It’s not our fault really, the Capitalist system we grew up in has reared us towards an “I’m gonna get mine motherfucker!” mentality, and living in New York only exasperates

I have a strong premonition that you’ll be feeling the effects of St. Patrick’s Day Shitshow 2010 on Thursday morning while you’re getting ready for work, avoiding your ghastly reflection in the mirror at all costs and wondering what you should be more ashamed of:  the dangerously irresponsible amount of

How do I know spring has sprung? The son-of-a-bitch birds explode with an endless array of cheery chirps outside my window every God-forsaken morning. It’s like clockwork. An hour before my alarm goes off! And there’s one ballsy little fucker – a male cardinal, or as I like to call