It’s November in NY. Those bastards made us trade an hour for sunlight again. The homeless people are beginning to pack more coats and look for better places to hang themselves. The leaf’s have changed and so did your ex’s relationship status since cuffing season started. By the time you

I know that NYC hasn’t been disgustingly cold this season, but someone’s still got the wintertime blues (that “someone” is me). This time of year, I always turn into a humongous B– cackling at any poor soul who dares approach me as I perform my cold weather rituals of swaddling