By Rachel Fogletto My friends are always asking me how I’m able to exercise and drink most days of the week. Motivation to work out is a struggle, even more so when you’re broke, hungover, depressed or even exhausted. I used to make a lot of justifications for not working

As I regained awareness of my surroundings (ahem…coming out of a blackout), I realized I was stumbling out of one of the Lower East Side’s ubiquitous filthy houses of debauch. The night had been a resounding failure. No one enjoyed my humor, the opposite sex somehow found me unappealing, and

On days when I attempt to walk down Bedford Avenue on a Saturday night I am quickly reminded of why I don’t do it more often.  It sucks.  Aside from the droves of drunk ass 21 year olds out in front of Spike Hill’. aside from the piles of hipsters

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

Anna gave her account of this place a few months back.  I just thought I’d weigh in with mine as well: Recently liberated bras dangle from the ceiling, bearing silent witness to the mayhem below, while drunk young things struggle to hear each other’s pickup lines over intolerably loud country