It’s that time of year. The sun is out, allergies are kicking up, and clothing starts to shed. You can always tell when spring has finally sprung based on necklines getting lower and hemlines getting higher (applies for guys as well with the advent of the deep V-neck). It’s a

Breakfast dates. Kinda awkward sometimes, right? I don’t know who these people are that go on breakfast dates, but it’s just kind of weird to me. Like, there’s clearly no possibility of going home with the other person, you just sort of awkwardly part ways afterward and carry on with

Watching comedians on TV is all right, but the beeps where there should be swearing really detracts from the overall enjoyment. It’s not anywhere near as tragic as when movies get edited for TV and they replace words like “sex” with “the session” and you die a little bit inside.

I generally buy books. I either buy them on Amazon or at The Strand or sometimes even full price at a place like McNally Jackson or St. Marks Books because I am all about supporting local outfits. All of that made me sort of forget about the fact that there

I am passionate about many and varied things, but they all essentially boil down to one of the following: food, booze, sex or culture. It’s especially nice when one thing covers two or more of those categories. I get to kill a few birds with one stone, perhaps, and still

I swear to god, people, I’m not making these up.  Here’s the latest from my inbox: Dear Anna, As a single gal in NYC, I’m done dealing with the pretentious shallow cakeboys of Manhattan. I love hearing about your dips in the dating pool of Brooklyn  and think you can

Since I’ve moved to New York in 2005, this winter has by far been the coldest, windiest, and most blizzard-y one.  Now more than ever I feel myself much less inclined to step outside, especially when the wind sounds like something in Misselthwaite Manor, a la The Secret Garden.  Though,