new york latest
Broke-Ass Art Spotlight: John McGregor
I just moved recently, and if there’s something more annoying than spending money on new art for your walls (and actually moving), I’d sure like to hear about it. I was pleased to find out that my roommate had purchased a print (below) from none other than my former neighbor
R.I.P. Corey Haim-The Lost Boys at Knitting Factory
Via the great folks over at Gothamlist: “Come pay tribute to the life of the ultimate 1980’s teen heartthrob, Corey Haim. The Knitting Factory will be celebrating his film work with Brooklyn-based comedy group, the Raspberry Brothers. We’ll be toasting the Haim with drink specials (Corey Haim was Canadian-born, so
The Cottage
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 ‘œI’m gonna get mine motherfucker!’ mentality, and living in New York only exasperates this.
Broke-Ass of the Week- Sketch Comedy Group, Good Neighbor
Every week we feature a different person from the community shedding a little light on their life of brokeitude. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn something about the human spirit…probably not.
A Prayer to St. Patrick
Dear St. Patrick, Please let me go somewhere fun on YOUR DAY. Please let me eat some of that awesome corned beef and cabbage that I love! Please let me find my green face makeup and shamrock necklace in my apartment somewhere. Please let my friends agree to go to
FREE Jameson Shots at Savalas
In case you couldn’t tell by the groups of people wearing Leprechaun hats and shiny green plastic beads with giant shamrocks, it’s St. Patrick’s Day. It’s one of the few minor holidays where you can close your eyes, spin in a circle while pointing, go into whichever bar you land
Ring in Spring with a FREE Rita's Italian Ice
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