When I was working on my NYC book, a cat named Wade dropped some info on me about some of the strange and unknown things in New York. One of them was that there are seven secrets about Grand Central Station. He had seen a TV program about them, but

The love story of a boy, some cheese fries and an Afghani man named Abdul…well more or less.

This originally appeared in Broke-Ass Stuart’s Guide to Living Cheaply in New York. Oh Kenka…Kenka…Kenka…Kenka. You are one of the weirdest fucking places I’ve ever eaten in my entire life and for that, I salute you. I’m literally sitting here in front of my computer trying to find the proper

This originally appeared in Broke-Ass Stuart’s Guide to Living Cheaply in New York. Out of my 3 books, it is without a doubt the best. With $5 Budweisers, this place goes against one of the basic tenets of Broke-Assdom, that the cheapest beer in a place should cost no more

When I first discovered this place, I told Paul about how I found this amazing little gem of a dive bar in the West Village that would be perfect for the book. When he asked me the name of it, and I told him it was the Corner Bistro, he

  While the original use for this huge bar was a paint factory, the only things currently being produced here are very drunk people.  With the exception of me that is.  Every time I come here I’m already too drunk.  In fact, the first time I was here was when

The world needs O’Connor’s more than O’Connor’s needs the world.  I say this because O’Connor’s lets us believe that there are still some things worth romanticizing.  How else would you describe a bar that opened in 1931 (prohibition wasn’t repealed until 1933) and who, as of a few proprietors ago,

Neon beer signs and red lighting reflect off a black and white checkered floor, while people trade strange stories at little tables, each individually lit by it’s own pinkish colored lamp. You scan the crowd and see a couple old drunks, tall, hot model-looking girls, guys in jackets from a